The Rakath Saga

[Zilcho]

Chapter 1: Leaving Home

On the eastern slopes of the Rakath mountains, a small village lay. It was home to a small clan of orcs, perhaps only 130 strong. They managed to scrape by in the rough landscape. Their hunters managed to get enough food to feed the village. Their lumberjacks got enough wood to keep the village warm during the harsh, mountain winter.

To the east, further down the mountains, was a larger clan of orcs, beginning to expand. It was over 250 orcs strong. Between the Rakath orc clans there were various traditions that were kept, and breakers of these traditions were treated harshly by the other clans. One of these traditions is that war may not be declared on another clan without legitimate reason, whereas humans, dwarves and minotaurs could be attacked freely, whenever a clan pleased. The large clan was always looking for reasons to declare war on its neighbours.

One day a lumberjack was gathering wood in the forest. It was nearing sunset, but the sun was nowhere to be seen, as is the case most of the time in Nocturnus. A mist hung over the forest, creeping in between the tress. A figure was walking towards the lumberjack, although he didn't notice it. It was an orc. He was wearing a leather tunic that went to his ankles. He also wore a small sheet of chain-mail on his torso. He carried a short sword in one hand and a shield in the other. The shield was made by the Troll clan, the most powerful clan in all of the Rakath Mountains. They controlled many of the trolls in Rakath, and had a booming weapons industry, printing their clan insignia onto most of their apparel.

"You have entered the territory of the Zindek clan and exploited our resources," the orc said to the lumberjack. "Return to your village and prepare for war." The lumberjack's eyes widened and he ran towards the city to warn them. He dropped his axe, he knew there was no point fighting, the village had no chance.

At the village he informed the elders and the alarm was risen. The orcs were to flee west of the Rakath Mountains, where the chieftain's cousin led a clan. A small force of brave orcs were to hold off the attackers while the rest escaped.

20 orcs stood bravely as a force of around 60 came charging towards the village. They impacted and the noise of metal striking metal sounded throughout the village. The battle was over quickly, very few of the attackers died because the defenders were not as well equipped nor as well trained. A company of archers prepared to unleash a volley of flaming arrows on the wooden village. They dipped their arrows in a rare, slow burning oil, found in the Nocturnus swamps, then ignited them on a torch held by another orc. They pulled the strings back. They fired. Most of the arrows hit the thatched roofs of the small huts, which quickly ignited. People were screaming as they suddenly found their escape routes blocked by walls of flame. The attackers advanced into the village.

While the first battle was raging, Orkusan, a retired hunter, led his teenage son out of the house. "Orkusack, you are the fastest runner in the village. Go. If you take me with you, we will surely be killed." He said as he wrapped a scarf around Orkusack's neck. Orkusack, despite his inner-feelings, did not disagree. There was strong obedience in orcs to their elders. "Once you reach the snowy peaks, use all your energy. You will not survive there for more then a couple of days. Go now! They're coming!" Orkusack touched his hand on his father's chest, a local equivalent of waving good bye, and dart off between the huts. He carried with him his father's hunting knife, as well as some provisions for the journey.

The orcs were close behind and they chased him through the burning village, igniting more flames as they went.

Orkusack had left the village and was now making for the mountain peaks. He could see very few of his fellow clansmen following behind him, and he despaired for those who would be made slaves or killed. The Zindek orcs gave up their chase, deciding to focus on rounding up the surviovors in the city to take as slaves.

In 2 days and 1 night, Orkusack had reached the peaks of the Rakath mountains. The view would have been amazing, had it not been for th heavy clouds that lay on the peaks. The snow was thick, and Orkusack found it hard to move with great haste. He had to carry his supplies above his head to prevent them getting wet from snow. He wrapped his scarf around his head, to shield him from the bitter cold.

[Maxim I]

Wow man, you are a really great story teller!!! That part of the story was already amazing!!

Also 2 nice scenes to accompagny the story

[Kai NRG]

Nice scenes, the snow one especially! Can't wait to hear more of what happens in the story!