The Chronicles of Outsider: Humble Beginnings by Justin Wayne
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Outsider dropped a second pouch on the ground which erupted into a smoke cloud between the boulder and the closest patch of darkness and he made his way through it. Passing from the light, he made his way around the ring of fire that had now spread widely, and circumvented the battle to attack from the side.
All the orcs’ attention focused on escaping the flames or the fighters, they didn’t notice the elf emptying his small quiver into them. Four arrows and dead orcs later, he was standing straight ahead with knives glistening.
The remaining orcs, fifteen of them, formed a line formation then as a powerful voice boomed out commands. Spears and axes were lowered in a fence of death. Outsider slowed and stopped before them.
The line parted as Ulgvhen made his way through. He held his chin high and eyed the bounty hunter. A face of pure contempt watched the elf’s subtle movements. He swung the mace about lightly despite the fact it weighed over fifty pounds and grit his teeth.
“You have a lot of nerve coming in like this.” he snarled. “You have killed far too many of my tribe to allow you to leave this place. Though I respect your skills I must end their use.”
Outsider eyed him warily. This orc was nearing the realm of berserking, a natural Warrior, and would prove extremely dangerous. “I was attacked first. Am I not to defend myself?”
Ulgvhen snorted and waved his hand carelessly. “Defending yourself and setting a coward’s trap are not the same.”
“No more cowardly than sending a whole tribe after a single man.” the elf countered. Ulgvhen went silent at that and Outsider knew he had hit a nerve. “So let us settle this on even ground. One on one in single combat.”
The orc beta thrust out his chest and jutted out his boar-like tusks. “Agreed.”
The line of orcs spread out into a circle to watch the fight. They chanted in their guttural language and banged their weapons on the ground. Outsider tried to find his friends but couldn’t see through the ring of thick orc fighters. He hoped they were okay but found himself obligated to put them off.
He turned back to Ulgvhen, his bare chest covered in dozens of scars and rippling with powerful muscle. He noted the strained lines across the orc’s flesh, signs of age, the lessening of muscle mass he knew. Then his eyes watched the pendulum motion of the mace attached to the chain as an immense flail.
“It is only right you should die by my hand!” the beta called. “I am the most veteran of our tribe, the elder; it is my duty to judge. And you are guilty.”
They circled one another, keeping their backs away, and waited for the other to make the first move.
Outsider watched his body language. The slight sag of the right shoulder showed the weight of the flail, and his other arm was still wrapped in a bandage. His footfalls were uneven, suggesting a wounded knee, and his eyes flicked repeatedly to the elf’s legs.
Outsider knew Ulgvhen would move first.
The orc came on suddenly in a rage, flail swinging into an uppercut that whistled past the elf’s head as he dodged the slow swing and struck out with Darkbane, slicing a long, thin line across Ulgvhen’s ribs. The orc ignored it and carried his momentum from the uppercut into a wide arc that forced the elf back.
Outsider came in low, catching a punch from the orc’s off hand to the side of the head that sent him off balance. The orc caught him and lifted him into the air by the throat. His beady black eyes stared hard at him.
Then Ulgvhen slammed him into the ground so hard all the air was pressed from his lungs and Darkbane flew from his hand. Stunned, Outsider stared up at the sky then at the flail coming down at him.
He rolled to the side and jumped to his feet. While the orc lifted the flail from the small crater in the frozen ground, the elf charged forward and flicked his spare knife into the orc’s arm, just above the bandage. The orc shrugged it off and hurled the flail about in a surge of adrenaline. The heavy mace collided with Outsider’s cloak as he ran past and caught, carrying him with the swing until the thick fabric ripped and he was thrown to the ground.
He rolled with it and came up instantly. He eyed Darkbane, on the other side of Ulgvhen, its blade gleaming white.
Ulgvhen swung the flail over his head on its chain, a loud whirring drone filling the air over the chanting and roaring. Timing it, Outsider came in fast, ducked the swing, and slid between the orc’s legs to scoop up Darkbane.
What he didn’t expect was Ulgvhen to release the flail and turn on his heel to catch Outsider with his now-open hand. He dragged him back and cast him aside to premium range for the heavy mace. But the elf flicked out his knife and slid it down the orc’s wrist as he was thrown.
By the pull of the razor sharp blade he knew he had severed muscle and possibly a vein. He turned about to face his opponent and judging by Ulgvhen’s pained face he knew his guess was correct. Taking advantage of the wound, Outsider sprinted ahead with both daggers and leapt forward with a kick that caught the orc’s chest, propelling himself off and into a backflip. But the orc didn’t budge under the kick and swung out, the chain catching Outsider’s legs and sweeping them from under him.
He landed hard on his shoulder and back but scrambled to his feet quickly as another heavy blow dented the ground with a loud thump. Sweat now ran down the elf’s neck and his body ached. Ulgvhen too was covered in sheen perspiration and his wounds were bleeding freely.
Most noticeable however was the way his arm sagged; never lifting the flail off the ground except to swing.
“Getting tired, old one?” Outsider called. Ulgvhen laughed a deep, throaty chuckle and unwound the chain from his arm. The flail was set aside and replaced with only the length of metal links. He wrapped it about his fist in an oblong shape and punched his palm, testing the chain.
“Not yet.” And he came forward deceptively quick without the weight of the mace holding him back. The chain-fist slammed into Outsider’s stomach and blew him off his feet. Then followed through by kicking him in the ribs repeatedly until he rolled away.
Outsider clutched his side and gasped for air. He could feel the cracks in the bone with his precise fingers and cursed his cockiness. This was the second time they had been fractured by these orcs; if not for having enough time to heal between, he might be dead.
Fixing his grip on the daggers, he set his mind to finish the fight quickly.
Ulgvhen came in then, swinging precise jabs to conserve energy. Accurate and fast, they were a good plan to follow through with. But the elf was faster. He bobbed and weaved behind each blow and struck out in return between each with his blades, leaving small cuts and incisions that gradually stacked upon one another.
Blood oozed down the veteran warrior’s chest and lined the tips of the bounty hunter’s blades. The ring of orcs were at a fever pitch now as the fighting escalated and real blows were made.
Outsider took a heavy fist to the hip and was knocked flat, but he countered with a twist of his hips that brought him to his feet and into a wide arc that drew a line of blood from Ulgvhen’s right shoulder to his left rib. Then he followed through with a stab from Darkbane that slid in several inches beneath his arm before he was batted away.
Ulgvhen felt that one. He winced as every breath brought a searing hot pain, blood bubbling out from the wound. He gazed at it then up to the one responsible. Outsider’s face, hidden beneath his hood as always, was impassive. But his voice was strained.
“I just pricked your lung.” He took a deep breath during the reprieve; his ribs aching. “If you stop now you might be able to have it stitched. Or,” he motioned with his hands like a scale. “You can keep fighting. And it will tear. And you will die.” He let the statement hang as cold, hard fact.
Ulgvhen looked around at the crowd that had grown silent. The faces of his men so battered and tired. Burns and cuts and raw areas from the bitter cold they had marched through. Theirs were looks of despair. He saw the pain in their eyes and knew it to be reflected in his own. He looked down at his bleeding
He shook his head.
“All this for one man?” he whispered. He shook his head again. “All this for one man?” he said more forcefully. The ring around him were all watching him alone now. “All this for one man!?” he roared and the others echoed his question. “I will not lead myself and my tribe into such devastation over one man!”
The others cheered and cried out in approval at their beta’s words. All along they had hoped for this, prayed he would save them from the murderous and detrimental ways of Cleave Rend who saw all of them as expendable. Finally they could return home and to their ways of hunting and raiding.
“Your tribe?” a bass filled voice inquired. “I thought this was my tribe?”
All faces turned slowly as Cleave Rend entered the ring. He turned from Outsider to Ulgvhen, giving each the same scornful look of contempt within those empty eye sockets.
“You are not fit to lead, Cleave Rend, and no longer an orc.” the beta replied, gripping the chains wrapped about his hand. “I am taking control of the tribe as the eldest and brother to our last leader, Uvrikh.”
Cleave Rend nodded his skull. “Is that right?” he murmured quietly. He turned his back to the orc then spun about, launching the black axe at him impossibly fast. It embedded itself deep within Ulgvhen’s chest with a smack like slapping water.
Ulgvhen stumbled against the impact and dropped to one knee. Crimson drenched his trousers and poured down his front. He coughed and spat up yet more. His eyes seemed hollow and fading.
“You see, brother,” the skull sneered the word. “You will not be taking control of the tribe. For I, Cleave Rend, am the only chief. The last chief.” As he said it he pushed Ulgvhen over onto his back with his foot. “For I cannot die. I will not disappear as you will. I shall remain and propel this tribe into a power they are all too stupid to imagine.”
Ulgvhen gripped the handle of the axe in his chest. He opened his mouth to speak but only blood came forth. His grayish-green skin was pale and the pool beneath him continued to grow. Instead he gestured to the skull then closed his hand into a fist.
Recognizing the sign, the ring of orcs closed in on Cleave Rend.