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"We were kinda rough with him last time... Reckon he would show up for today's game?" asked the man behind the steering wheel.
"Don't know. All I can say is that I've never seen an Orc run that fast in my entire life even if he does have a beast inside of him somewhere," the driver's companion replied thoughtfully while idly scrolling through his phone until he came across something. A moment of silence later, it was almost comical how the passenger's face extended forward both in disbelief and surprise at the same time. "...Yeah, he's coming, alright."
"Oh?"
"I kinda..." the passenger gulped audibly, "If that thing that he brought with him is what I think it is, even as a prop..."
"What is it?" the driver asked, slightly annoyed at his companion while the other man was still staring at his phone and desperately trying to zoom in on the photo of a big Orc pulling into the parking of the entrance to the local nature reserve with an absolutely massive something in the trunk of his pickup.
***
"Still haven't seen him anywhere but everyone says his playing today." the soldier of the group grumbled, adjusting the grip on the heavy shield he was carrying.
"So what if that guy plays or not? He's just one guy and there are five of us!" replied the priest. It was her first game and she wasn't familiar with this mysterious person her party mates were talking about cautiously.
"Yeah! We totally had him last time!" the militiaman chimed in trying to uplift everyones' spirits, his deposition as cheerful as ever.
The party was moving forward at a leisure pace, catching up on recent real life events with each other, joking and laughing, but the players from the opposing faction where still nowhere to be seen. The soldier didn't pay that any piece of mind at first but then a sense of creeping doubt started settling in, eating away at his resolve. They were a scouting party, making sure the way is clear for the main forces, but they would be of no use if they were to be eliminated this early in the game.
It was too quiet for that part of the forest, especially on a clear early spring day such as that. The birds should be chipping away like mad, welcoming the warmth and the rebirth of life. Yet it was deathly silent.
Coming out from the veil of the trees, the party found themselves in a small clearing, but it too showed no signs of the other players. It made no sense - they've almost made it to the place that was agreed as the other faction's base and once that was captured it would be game over. Something was not quite right...
All the chatter has long died off and the players were visibly tense now, progressing forward even slower and expecting an ambush to fall on them any second.
"HALT!" a booming gruff voice pierced the silence not unlike an avalanche, making the now concerned men and women almost jump out of their skins and turn around as fast as they could towards where it came from.
It was him. Literally only several feet behind them. Standing all on his own but tall and straight, almost proud, with his ivory tusks gleaming in the early morning sun.
Gasps and cried of distress rang across the clearing - the advancing party clearly did not expect a player from the other faction to either sneak up on them like that, or ...just how intimidating the big Orc would be as he towered over them menacingly with an absolutely ridiculously large, and expensive-looking, axe just casually resting on one of his shoulders.
A second later and that axe fell on the forest floor with a loud thump, it's blade embedding itself securely in the soil, while the owner of the weapon raised an enormous by human standards clenched green fist and grinned a wicked tusky smile.
"I, Blackwood of the Razorfang Clan, forbid you from going forth, invaders!" bellowed the Orc further stunning the humans as faint rustlings of leaves came from every direction around them. The archers of the opposing faction had them in their sights, their bows taunt and ready to fire.
"Jesus..." the priest let out a breath she wasn't aware she was holding and gripped her staff as tight as she could, making her knuckles turning white. "This is bad!"
"He really got into the character this time..." the militiaman briskly swore under his breath and stepped forward while calling out, "So those cowards lowered themselves to allying with the likes of beasts such as yourself, Werewolf! Fine then!"
The haunting smile on the Orc's tusked face grew only wider as the man who chased him halfway across the woods with a stick the previous weekend turned out to be his adversary.
"To get past me you'll have to face the trial of HONORABLE COMBAT!" the Lycanthrope bellowed, effortlessly picking up his massive axe with one big hand and instantly charging forward making everyone else but the militiaman, who got rooted in place like a deer in headlights, scatter to the sides. The shocked lone man, clearly not expecting such turn of events, could only lift up his swords with trembling arms hoping to parry the incoming blows.
There was an unmistakable joy in the glowing amber eyes of the Orc as he rained strike after strike at the man while the poor priest, scared half to death, could only exclaim in panic, breaking the immersion for herself and others: "HE KNOWS THAT HIS IS NOT A REAL FIGHT, RIGHT? RIGHT?!"
A terrific piece created by
TaoRen for this year's Orctober!
"Don't know. All I can say is that I've never seen an Orc run that fast in my entire life even if he does have a beast inside of him somewhere," the driver's companion replied thoughtfully while idly scrolling through his phone until he came across something. A moment of silence later, it was almost comical how the passenger's face extended forward both in disbelief and surprise at the same time. "...Yeah, he's coming, alright."
"Oh?"
"I kinda..." the passenger gulped audibly, "If that thing that he brought with him is what I think it is, even as a prop..."
"What is it?" the driver asked, slightly annoyed at his companion while the other man was still staring at his phone and desperately trying to zoom in on the photo of a big Orc pulling into the parking of the entrance to the local nature reserve with an absolutely massive something in the trunk of his pickup.
***
"Still haven't seen him anywhere but everyone says his playing today." the soldier of the group grumbled, adjusting the grip on the heavy shield he was carrying.
"So what if that guy plays or not? He's just one guy and there are five of us!" replied the priest. It was her first game and she wasn't familiar with this mysterious person her party mates were talking about cautiously.
"Yeah! We totally had him last time!" the militiaman chimed in trying to uplift everyones' spirits, his deposition as cheerful as ever.
The party was moving forward at a leisure pace, catching up on recent real life events with each other, joking and laughing, but the players from the opposing faction where still nowhere to be seen. The soldier didn't pay that any piece of mind at first but then a sense of creeping doubt started settling in, eating away at his resolve. They were a scouting party, making sure the way is clear for the main forces, but they would be of no use if they were to be eliminated this early in the game.
It was too quiet for that part of the forest, especially on a clear early spring day such as that. The birds should be chipping away like mad, welcoming the warmth and the rebirth of life. Yet it was deathly silent.
Coming out from the veil of the trees, the party found themselves in a small clearing, but it too showed no signs of the other players. It made no sense - they've almost made it to the place that was agreed as the other faction's base and once that was captured it would be game over. Something was not quite right...
All the chatter has long died off and the players were visibly tense now, progressing forward even slower and expecting an ambush to fall on them any second.
"HALT!" a booming gruff voice pierced the silence not unlike an avalanche, making the now concerned men and women almost jump out of their skins and turn around as fast as they could towards where it came from.
It was him. Literally only several feet behind them. Standing all on his own but tall and straight, almost proud, with his ivory tusks gleaming in the early morning sun.
Gasps and cried of distress rang across the clearing - the advancing party clearly did not expect a player from the other faction to either sneak up on them like that, or ...just how intimidating the big Orc would be as he towered over them menacingly with an absolutely ridiculously large, and expensive-looking, axe just casually resting on one of his shoulders.
A second later and that axe fell on the forest floor with a loud thump, it's blade embedding itself securely in the soil, while the owner of the weapon raised an enormous by human standards clenched green fist and grinned a wicked tusky smile.
"I, Blackwood of the Razorfang Clan, forbid you from going forth, invaders!" bellowed the Orc further stunning the humans as faint rustlings of leaves came from every direction around them. The archers of the opposing faction had them in their sights, their bows taunt and ready to fire.
"Jesus..." the priest let out a breath she wasn't aware she was holding and gripped her staff as tight as she could, making her knuckles turning white. "This is bad!"
"He really got into the character this time..." the militiaman briskly swore under his breath and stepped forward while calling out, "So those cowards lowered themselves to allying with the likes of beasts such as yourself, Werewolf! Fine then!"
The haunting smile on the Orc's tusked face grew only wider as the man who chased him halfway across the woods with a stick the previous weekend turned out to be his adversary.
"To get past me you'll have to face the trial of HONORABLE COMBAT!" the Lycanthrope bellowed, effortlessly picking up his massive axe with one big hand and instantly charging forward making everyone else but the militiaman, who got rooted in place like a deer in headlights, scatter to the sides. The shocked lone man, clearly not expecting such turn of events, could only lift up his swords with trembling arms hoping to parry the incoming blows.
There was an unmistakable joy in the glowing amber eyes of the Orc as he rained strike after strike at the man while the poor priest, scared half to death, could only exclaim in panic, breaking the immersion for herself and others: "HE KNOWS THAT HIS IS NOT A REAL FIGHT, RIGHT? RIGHT?!"
A terrific piece created by
TaoRen for this year's Orctober!
Category Artwork (Digital) / All
Species Orc
Size 905 x 1280px
File Size 216 kB
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