“What news do you have for me?”
Standing over a table out in the middle of their current camp, Roka-Ra looks over the map spread out across it. At her side stands another orc, who grunts as he points out a few of the settlements marked on the map.
“Tribes have reported successful raids here, here, and here. Defense minimal, Paladin presence nonexistent. Empire never sees it coming.”
Roka-Ra smiles thinly, though the Dark General can’t quite bring herself to feel the same level of pride and pleasure that her fellow orc is currently expressing via the tone of his voice. But then, there’s a good reason for that. For him, each report of victory is a triumph. For her, all of this is just a means to an end and a way to draw out the Dark Lord.
There’s a reason she hasn’t called for all of the orc tribes to come together into one massive orcish warband under her leadership. That would be as good as declaring war. The Holy Empire would HAVE to respond. And while Roka-Ra does HOPE it will come to that, she knows they aren’t ready yet. In the end, it will be up to the new Dark Lord to decide whether it is to be war or not.
Without the Dark Lord, they might never BE ready. The Dark Lord was a force multiplier, an army in and of itself. Roka-Ra had only gotten a couple chances to see Gral-Ra in pitched combat, but each time had been a true delight to witness. Unfortunately, wherever they were, the new Dark Lord hasn’t caught wind of the orc attacks just yet. Still, she knows if they keep this up, it’s only a matter of time.
Marking the settlements that the orc beside her has pointed out with big red X’s, Roka-Ra hums as she gazes at the map with fresh eyes for a moment. One of her thick green fingers travels along the row of sporadically spaced out ‘border towns’ that the Empire is so fond of propping up. All of them are within what used to be orc territory. What the Holy Empire called the ‘wildlands’ and dared to claim as within their borders was also ancient orc territory. The difference was the so-called wildlands was the orc territory they hadn’t lost to the expansionist Empire quite yet.
Unfortunately, there just weren’t enough orcs to defend all of their ancient lands. There hadn’t been for a long, long time. As such, as much as it pissed Roka-Ra and her people off, they’d been forced to cede more and more land to the so-called border towns, especially in recent decades. Some of her orcs even traded with those towns, something that Roka-Ra would not condone… but neither had she condemned the practice.
At least not before. As of right now it was expressly forbidden, and any orc found to be siding with the Empire would be summarily executed as a traitor to the cause. They might not be at war yet, but it truly was just around the corner. All they needed was the Dark Lord. All they needed was-
Her finger stops suddenly, and Roka-Ra’s brow furrows as she looks down at a border town without a red X just yet. This in and of itself is not too terribly odd. For one, there are dozens of border towns all over former orc territory, and not nearly enough orc tribes left for all of them. As well, her instructions to start attacking Empire settlements were still fresh and hadn’t even reached every tribe to say nothing of the individual responses from those tribes.
However, even with all that said, it was a little odd that the border town settled furthest into what the Empire called the wildlands had not been raided yet. Seeing where her finger is sitting, the orc at her side lets out a grunt.
“The Snarling Tusk Tribe laid claim to that town days ago, General. But we haven’t heard word back from them yet about the results of their attack.”
Roka-Ra frowns at that, her brow furrowing. To be fair, there were plenty of reasons why they wouldn’t have heard back yet. Perhaps the Snarling Tusk Tribe got waylaid and were only just now arriving at the settlement. Or perhaps they were enjoying themselves too much to send word. There wasn’t as much discipline among the orc tribes as the Dark General would have liked after all this time. Certainly not anything compared to what they’d had back in the day under her Big Sis.
You never really knew what you had until it was gone. Roka-Ra had been just a child when Gral-Ra had Awakened as the Dark Lord. She’d grown up under the aegis of the first orc Dark Lord they’d had in centuries. Her Big Sis had united the tribes and unified their people in a way Roka-Ra had come to realize was undeniably unique. There was a reason the Holy Empire had been able to break the back of the orc tribes centuries before, and it wasn’t entirely because of the Empire’s strength. Their people were easily divided, as painful as it was to admit.
Still, something was eating at her. As she stares down at the map, there’s something scratching at the back of her mind when she looks at that particular border town. Opening her mouth, Roka-Ra makes to speak… but the words never get to leave her lips.
“CHIEFTAINESS ROKA-RA! I WOULD HAVE WORDS WITH YOU!”
Immediately, the Dark General straightens up from the table, eyes narrowing as they dart to the edge of her camp, where a hulking male orc strides forth, his tribe filling into the camp behind him.
… This was the other reason that many of the Empire’s settlements had not been attacked yet. Not every orc tribe heard Roka-Ra’s call and actually answered it. Some ignored her entirely. And some, instead of taking the fight to the Holy Empire… decided to come straight to her to take issue with her issuing orders to them. As if she didn’t have the right..
Gritting her teeth, Roka-Ra pushes past the orc next to her and leaves the map table, stomping forward to meet the Orc Chief halfway. They stop about ten paces from one another, both of them sizing the other up.
Before her stands Chieftain Trol-Kar, of the Bonegnawer Tribe. He’s bigger than her by a fair bit, broader in the shoulders and taller than her by a head. Covered in the furs of the beasts he’s slain but with a bared chest, the orc has two nasty-looking war axes at his sides. Any human would have to use both hands for just one of the axes, but Trol-Kar dual wields them with great skill by all accounts.
In comparison, Roka-Ra stands fully armored, wearing the glinting black steel that her Dark Lord had gifted her upon her promotion all those years ago. It and the long, black sword sheathed on her back are the last things the Dark General has from her Big Sis.
Crossing her arms over her chest, Roka-Ra snarls.
“That’s General to you, Chieftain.”
Trol-Kar’s lips curl up in a sneering grin as he lets out a laugh at that.
“Aye? I don’t see a Dark Lord behind you backing up that claim!”
Roka-Ra’s fist clenches and the metal of her gauntlet grinds as everyone in the camp and Trol-Kar’s party watches the exchange. Gritting her teeth together, Roka-Ra glares the Orc Chief down.
“I was given my title by the Dark Lord Gral-Ra herself. I earned it with my blood and my sweat and not a day goes by that I don’t live up to the expectations she had for me.”
For a long moment, Trol-Kar just stares at her. Then, he turns his head and spits.
“Dark Lord is dead. Ain’t no such thing as Dark Generals anymore.”
She almost launches herself at him then and there. But no, that’s what he wants. If she attacks without warning, then she also attacks without honor. He and his tribe would come at her, all at once. Her own forces might back her up… or they might not. The Bonegnawer Tribe is not the first Orc Tribe to come here instead of raiding one of the border towns as she’d ordered.
This is not the first pigheaded Orc Chief that Roka-Ra has had to deal with. Plenty of the orcs in her camp were only loyal so far as she stayed top dog. If they saw an opportunity, they’d take it. No, this was a battle of words, at least for the time being.
“The Destined Hero is back! And that means the Dark Lord is out there somewhere! It is time for us to set aside our petty differences and come together once more. The orcs have ALWAYS served the Dark Lord. Will the Bonegnawer Tribe prove themselves cowards and refuse to answer the call?!”
There’s rustling all over the camp at that. To be fair, plenty of the orcs in the larger-than-normal camp have heard that exact same spiel from Roka-Ra’s lips already. THEIR Chiefs all fell in line, so now she’s put the onus back on Trol-Kar. If the Orc Chief refuses now, then it will be he and his ilk that the orcs will fall upon and savage.
Recognizing this, his beady eyes glittering with intelligence, the fur-covered Orc Chief snorts and snuffles for a moment before finally speaking.
“Aye. If the Dark Lord shows himself, the Bonegnawers will answer the call. But no telling who the Dark Lord will name as his Dark Generals. Could be you… or it could be me.”
He leans forward at that, as if to use his greater size to intimidate Roka-Ra. Certainly, she knows he’s painting an inviting image to the other more physically minded orcs on both sides of this exchange, what with how he’s looming over her. Roka-Ra just smirks, entirely unintimidated by his size.
“The new Dark Lord, whoever THEY may be, will recognize strength, honor, and most importantly talent. I have every faith that they will see what I have built for them and recognize my worth. I cannot say the same for YOU who saunters into this camp with little to his name. A handful of orc warriors. A few furs from mindless beasts paraded around upon your shoulders. You certainly seem confident of your value, but all I see is a boastful FOOL.”
Trol-Kar rocks back a bit, as if struck by her words. Then, he snarls. For a moment, it looks as though HE might attack for the insult she’s dealt to him. But he’s smarter than that. Not much smarter however, given the next words out of his mouth.
“I challenge you to Tah-Mak-Ah! If you win, I will submit! If I win, YOU will submit!”
Roka-Ra bristles at the way he looks her up and down at that last bit. Even though she’s getting precisely what she wants, his ogling still pisses her off. Tah-Mak-Ah was the ancient orcish custom of battle between Chiefs to decide who was the stronger. If she’d challenged him, then she would have tacitly acknowledged that they were the same rank, that she wasn’t actually a Dark General, but instead a Chieftainess as he’d named her.
However, by goading him into challenging her, Roka-Ra still had the high ground. If she lost, she would quickly lose it… but so long as she won, her claim to the title of Dark General would remain unassailable. Exactly as planned.
“Hmph. I accept.”
No sooner have the words left her lips then Trol-Kar draws his war axes and lunges forward. He’s quite fast for his size… blindingly quick in fact. But Roka-Ra is no slouch herself. Drawing her sword from her back, she brings it up just in time to block his initial swings. The big black sword is in fact less of a sword and more of a slab of metal, truth be told. It fits her fighting style quite well, however. That is to say… she doesn’t really have one.
“GRAAAAAAAAAAH!!!”
Her enraged shout echoes through the camp as Roka-Ra grows in size right then and there. Her armor expands with her, enchanted for magically fitting to her body no matter how big she grows. Hidden underneath the black armor, the Dark General’s muscles grow and bulge, and she snarls as her eyes go red with anger. Suddenly, she’s just as big as the Orc Chief in front of her, if not a tad bigger.
To his credit, Trol-Kar doesn’t so much as blink. Even though they now see eye to eye, he does not balk in the face of a fairer fight. Instead he lets out a savage sort of laugh and rears back for another swing. Roka-Ra doesn’t let him get it off. He’s clearly expecting her to try and make space to be able to swing her own much larger weapon more effectively. His swing aims to catch her on her way out of his reach.
However, that’s not what Roka-Ra does. Instead, she steps INTO his space, moving past his swing and SLAMS her forehead into his nose in a picture perfect head-bash. Blood spurts from the Orc Chief’s nose as it breaks, and he goes stumbling back. Instead of her having to pull away, it’s Trol-Kar who makes the space between them for her.
In that moment, she could have swung her sword and ended his life in one single motion. Slab though her black steel sword might be, it could still swipe a head from a body with ease. And they both know it too. But she doesn’t. She stays where she is, waiting for him to recover, even as the orcs around them all roar with approval or disapproval. Trol-Kar is not the first Orc Chief to show up with intentions of belittling and diminishing her. He’s not even the first to be goaded into challenging her to Tah-Mak-Ah.
That said, the LAST two to do so both begrudgingly bent their heads after the little maneuver she just pulled. Trol-Kar is the first to steady himself, and upon realizing she’s showing him mercy, get angrier rather than contrite.
With a howl, the Orc Chief surges forward again, his axes flashing through the air with even greater speed than before as he seeks to cleave her head from her body. It is, after all, the only part of her that’s unarmored at the moment. There is in fact a helmet that goes with the armor her Big Sis got for her, but Roka-Ra doesn’t need to be fully kitted out to deal with children like this.
Ducking, dipping, and dodging around his wild swings for a moment, the Dark General waits for an opening. He snarls at her, growling angrily, but Roka-Ra is nothing if not tactical despite her Barbarian Job. As Trol-Kar gets more and more desperate, his movements fast but sacrificing defense at the same time… she finds what she’s looking for.
In an instant Roka-Ra drops into a crouch and brings her weapon around, slamming the flat of the metal slab she calls a blade into Trol-Kar’s right knee. There’s a meaty pop and a high-pitched scream as he goes down, his knee destroyed in a second. He drops one of his axes in order to grab his leg, snarling as he weakly slices the other one through the air as if to ward her off.
Roka-Ra bats his last weapon away with ease, before stepping into the Orc Chief’s personal space once more. She reaches out and grabs him by his hair, yanking his head back with the strength of her rage. And yet, Roka-Ra was not your average Barbarian. Her Big Sis had made sure of that. Even with her eyes blazing red from the primary Barbarian ability, she keeps her wits about her. All of the unbridled strength and raw power of a Barbarian… with all of her mind intact.
That was what made her worthy of being one of Gral-Ra’s Dark Generals. That was what put her above most of her own people.
Bringing the edge of her thick sword under Trol-Kar’s chin, Roka-Ra sees him go still. He knows she has him right where she wants him. And yet, he sneers at her, snarling rather than submitting.
“… Do it.”
Sneering right back, Roka-Ra shakes her head.
“For what? Your misplaced pride? Surrender, Chieftain Trol-Kar of the Bonegnawer tribe. Submit and join me. The Dark Lord IS out there somewhere. They will need every able-bodied orc when the time comes. I will NOT let our people continue to die to infighting and petty things such as wounded pride!”
For a long moment silence falls over the camp as every orc within it waits with bated breath to hear Trol-Kar’s response. For a long moment, not even Roka-Ra knows what the Orc Chief is going to decide. He trembles with emotion, and she half-expects him to force her to kill him after all. It will be the first orc she’s had to kill since sending out her orders. She’s not looking forward to it, but she will ALWAYS do what must be done.
Perhaps seeing that resolve in her eyes is what finally settles it for the Orc Chief. His gaze dips at long last and his shoulders slump.
“I surrender. I submit… to the Dark General Roka-Ra.”
A roar of satisfaction erupts from those around them at Trol-Kar’s acknowledgment, even from his own tribe. Smirking, Roka-Ra pulls her sword away and reaches down, yanking Trol-Kar up by his shoulder. His knee is still destroyed, and he has to lean on her as she helps him off to the side where some other orcs are waiting to take him to the camp’s growing group of shamans. Once they see to him, he’ll be healed up and fighting fit in no time.
Roka-Ra herself lets out a breath and shrinks back down to her normal size once she’s handed him off, before beginning to make her way back over to the map table. However, before she can reach it, she’s stopped again, this time by another orc. She wishes she could say she knew his name. Big Sis would have known his name. But Roka-Ra is well aware of how poor a replacement she is for the previous Dark Lord. In the end, all she can do is hold down the fort until the new Dark Lord reveals themselves.
“General! A letter!”
Blinking owlishly, Roka-Ra looks down at the sealed envelope with her name on it. It hasn’t been opened yet, which is a little surprising, but then… it is addressed to her and there aren’t many orcs in the camp who are willing to cross her over a little curiosity. Heh, there aren’t ANY orcs in the camp who are capable of resealing an unsealed letter either.
That said, most orcs wouldn’t send a letter either, and her name isn’t written in orcish, but rather, Empire Common. Something else she wouldn’t know if it weren’t for Gral-Ra insisting on drilling it into her head.Taking it from the orc’s hands, Roka-Ra tears it open and pulls out the parchment within. The Dark General’s eyes move back and forth across the page as she reads the letter’s contents, also written in Empire Common.
Her nostrils flare the further in she gets and her shoulders hunch inward as a low, building fury ignites in her chest.
“This…”
Everyone in the camp stops moving. Everyone turns towards their Dark General, including Trol-Kar and the orcs helping him to the shamans. The feeling in the air has shifted. There’s a palpable sense of apocalyptic rage growing from the center of the camp where Roka-Ra is standing.
“… They dare. They fucking DARE!”
She almost wants to laugh at the audacity. But she’s too enraged for that.
The contents of the letter are… lies, of course. Have to be. A tall tale designed to distract her, confuse her, and ultimately lead her astray. There’s no world in which any of it is true. And that someone would even think they could get away with this sort of trickery… it makes Roka-Ra’s blood boil like nothing else. More than boil, even. They think she’s stupid. They think just because she’s an orc, they can lead her around by the nose. It’s the only reason she can think of that they would be so incredibly audacious.
A raging inferno of fury and hatred is born within Roka-Ra’s breast and she suddenly whips around, addressing the entire camp.
“ENOUGH! RECALL THE TRIBES! NO MORE EXCUSES! NO MORE HALF-MEASURES! ALL WILL COME TO MY CALL OR ELSE!”
There’s a rustle through the camp at that, as orcs all look at each other, shocked by Roka-Ra’s sudden change. Finally, the orc messenger who delivered the letter in the first place speaks up.
“Or else… or else w-what, General?”
Roka-Ra’s eyes snap to the orc in front of her, and her lips curl back in a tusky snarl. She’s no longer raging at the top of her lungs, and yet every orc in the camp hears her next words. Especially the ones she makes sure to emphasize.
“Or else I and my WARBAND will go to THEM!”
There’s a beat… and then an even greater roar of excitement rushes through the camp at the word ‘Warband’. But then to be fair… this is a big moment. It’ll be the first Orcish Warband amassed in hundreds of years.
Not even Dark Lord Gral-Ra had let them assemble a Warband, mostly because the Dark Lord had never actually gone to war. She’d expected them to unify, but only as a defensive measure. What Roka-Ra was doing now was the exact opposite of that. She was demanding the orcish tribes come together, not to defend themselves… but to take the fight to the Empire at long last.
Even Trol-Kar lets out a cheering roar at this, but Roka-Ra pays neither him nor the others any mind. Her eyes are fixed on the letter clutched tightly in her fist. After a moment, she lashes out and grabs the messenger by his collar.
“Where’d you get this? Who sent it?”
Blinking, the orc does his best to shrug.
“Uh… human courier? Killed him, found the letter for ya on his person… figured it should be delivered, General.”
… Typical and not at all surprising. Releasing the orc’s collar, Roka-Ra just nods… before shredding the letter into scraps right then and there.
“… What’d it say, General?”
Eyes snapping back to the curious orc, Roka-Ra sneers.
“Nothing but lies. Just a bunch of stinking, filthy lies.”
-x-X-x-
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“What news do you have for me?”
Standing over a table out in the middle of their current camp, Roka-Ra looks over the map spread out across it. At her side stands another orc, who grunts as he points out a few of the settlements marked on the map.
“Tribes have reported successful raids here, here, and here. Defense minimal, Paladin presence nonexistent. Empire never sees it coming.”
Roka-Ra smiles thinly, though the Dark General can’t quite bring herself to feel the same level of pride and pleasure that her fellow orc is currently expressing via the tone of his voice. But then, there’s a good reason for that. For him, each report of victory is a triumph. For her, all of this is just a means to an end and a way to draw out the Dark Lord.
There’s a reason she hasn’t called for all of the orc tribes to come together into one massive orcish warband under her leadership. That would be as good as declaring war. The Holy Empire would HAVE to respond. And while Roka-Ra does HOPE it will come to that, she knows they aren’t ready yet. In the end, it will be up to the new Dark Lord to decide whether it is to be war or not.
Without the Dark Lord, they might never BE ready. The Dark Lord was a force multiplier, an army in and of itself. Roka-Ra had only gotten a couple chances to see Gral-Ra in pitched combat, but each time had been a true delight to witness. Unfortunately, wherever they were, the new Dark Lord hasn’t caught wind of the orc attacks just yet. Still, she knows if they keep this up, it’s only a matter of time.
Marking the settlements that the orc beside her has pointed out with big red X’s, Roka-Ra hums as she gazes at the map with fresh eyes for a moment. One of her thick green fingers travels along the row of sporadically spaced out ‘border towns’ that the Empire is so fond of propping up. All of them are within what used to be orc territory. What the Holy Empire called the ‘wildlands’ and dared to claim as within their borders was also ancient orc territory. The difference was the so-called wildlands was the orc territory they hadn’t lost to the expansionist Empire quite yet.
Unfortunately, there just weren’t enough orcs to defend all of their ancient lands. There hadn’t been for a long, long time. As such, as much as it pissed Roka-Ra and her people off, they’d been forced to cede more and more land to the so-called border towns, especially in recent decades. Some of her orcs even traded with those towns, something that Roka-Ra would not condone… but neither had she condemned the practice.
At least not before. As of right now it was expressly forbidden, and any orc found to be siding with the Empire would be summarily executed as a traitor to the cause. They might not be at war yet, but it truly was just around the corner. All they needed was the Dark Lord. All they needed was-
Her finger stops suddenly, and Roka-Ra’s brow furrows as she looks down at a border town without a red X just yet. This in and of itself is not too terribly odd. For one, there are dozens of border towns all over former orc territory, and not nearly enough orc tribes left for all of them. As well, her instructions to start attacking Empire settlements were still fresh and hadn’t even reached every tribe to say nothing of the individual responses from those tribes.
However, even with all that said, it was a little odd that the border town settled furthest into what the Empire called the wildlands had not been raided yet. Seeing where her finger is sitting, the orc at her side lets out a grunt.
“The Snarling Tusk Tribe laid claim to that town days ago, General. But we haven’t heard word back from them yet about the results of their attack.”
Roka-Ra frowns at that, her brow furrowing. To be fair, there were plenty of reasons why they wouldn’t have heard back yet. Perhaps the Snarling Tusk Tribe got waylaid and were only just now arriving at the settlement. Or perhaps they were enjoying themselves too much to send word. There wasn’t as much discipline among the orc tribes as the Dark General would have liked after all this time. Certainly not anything compared to what they’d had back in the day under her Big Sis.
You never really knew what you had until it was gone. Roka-Ra had been just a child when Gral-Ra had Awakened as the Dark Lord. She’d grown up under the aegis of the first orc Dark Lord they’d had in centuries. Her Big Sis had united the tribes and unified their people in a way Roka-Ra had come to realize was undeniably unique. There was a reason the Holy Empire had been able to break the back of the orc tribes centuries before, and it wasn’t entirely because of the Empire’s strength. Their people were easily divided, as painful as it was to admit.
Still, something was eating at her. As she stares down at the map, there’s something scratching at the back of her mind when she looks at that particular border town. Opening her mouth, Roka-Ra makes to speak… but the words never get to leave her lips.
“CHIEFTAINESS ROKA-RA! I WOULD HAVE WORDS WITH YOU!”
Immediately, the Dark General straightens up from the table, eyes narrowing as they dart to the edge of her camp, where a hulking male orc strides forth, his tribe filling into the camp behind him.
… This was the other reason that many of the Empire’s settlements had not been attacked yet. Not every orc tribe heard Roka-Ra’s call and actually answered it. Some ignored her entirely. And some, instead of taking the fight to the Holy Empire… decided to come straight to her to take issue with her issuing orders to them. As if she didn’t have the right..
Gritting her teeth, Roka-Ra pushes past the orc next to her and leaves the map table, stomping forward to meet the Orc Chief halfway. They stop about ten paces from one another, both of them sizing the other up.
Before her stands Chieftain Trol-Kar, of the Bonegnawer Tribe. He’s bigger than her by a fair bit, broader in the shoulders and taller than her by a head. Covered in the furs of the beasts he’s slain but with a bared chest, the orc has two nasty-looking war axes at his sides. Any human would have to use both hands for just one of the axes, but Trol-Kar dual wields them with great skill by all accounts.
In comparison, Roka-Ra stands fully armored, wearing the glinting black steel that her Dark Lord had gifted her upon her promotion all those years ago. It and the long, black sword sheathed on her back are the last things the Dark General has from her Big Sis.
Crossing her arms over her chest, Roka-Ra snarls.
“That’s General to you, Chieftain.”
Trol-Kar’s lips curl up in a sneering grin as he lets out a laugh at that.
“Aye? I don’t see a Dark Lord behind you backing up that claim!”
Roka-Ra’s fist clenches and the metal of her gauntlet grinds as everyone in the camp and Trol-Kar’s party watches the exchange. Gritting her teeth together, Roka-Ra glares the Orc Chief down.
“I was given my title by the Dark Lord Gral-Ra herself. I earned it with my blood and my sweat and not a day goes by that I don’t live up to the expectations she had for me.”
For a long moment, Trol-Kar just stares at her. Then, he turns his head and spits.
“Dark Lord is dead. Ain’t no such thing as Dark Generals anymore.”
She almost launches herself at him then and there. But no, that’s what he wants. If she attacks without warning, then she also attacks without honor. He and his tribe would come at her, all at once. Her own forces might back her up… or they might not. The Bonegnawer Tribe is not the first Orc Tribe to come here instead of raiding one of the border towns as she’d ordered.
This is not the first pigheaded Orc Chief that Roka-Ra has had to deal with. Plenty of the orcs in her camp were only loyal so far as she stayed top dog. If they saw an opportunity, they’d take it. No, this was a battle of words, at least for the time being.
“The Destined Hero is back! And that means the Dark Lord is out there somewhere! It is time for us to set aside our petty differences and come together once more. The orcs have ALWAYS served the Dark Lord. Will the Bonegnawer Tribe prove themselves cowards and refuse to answer the call?!”
There’s rustling all over the camp at that. To be fair, plenty of the orcs in the larger-than-normal camp have heard that exact same spiel from Roka-Ra’s lips already. THEIR Chiefs all fell in line, so now she’s put the onus back on Trol-Kar. If the Orc Chief refuses now, then it will be he and his ilk that the orcs will fall upon and savage.
Recognizing this, his beady eyes glittering with intelligence, the fur-covered Orc Chief snorts and snuffles for a moment before finally speaking.
“Aye. If the Dark Lord shows himself, the Bonegnawers will answer the call. But no telling who the Dark Lord will name as his Dark Generals. Could be you… or it could be me.”
He leans forward at that, as if to use his greater size to intimidate Roka-Ra. Certainly, she knows he’s painting an inviting image to the other more physically minded orcs on both sides of this exchange, what with how he’s looming over her. Roka-Ra just smirks, entirely unintimidated by his size.
“The new Dark Lord, whoever THEY may be, will recognize strength, honor, and most importantly talent. I have every faith that they will see what I have built for them and recognize my worth. I cannot say the same for YOU who saunters into this camp with little to his name. A handful of orc warriors. A few furs from mindless beasts paraded around upon your shoulders. You certainly seem confident of your value, but all I see is a boastful FOOL.”
Trol-Kar rocks back a bit, as if struck by her words. Then, he snarls. For a moment, it looks as though HE might attack for the insult she’s dealt to him. But he’s smarter than that. Not much smarter however, given the next words out of his mouth.
“I challenge you to Tah-Mak-Ah! If you win, I will submit! If I win, YOU will submit!”
Roka-Ra bristles at the way he looks her up and down at that last bit. Even though she’s getting precisely what she wants, his ogling still pisses her off. Tah-Mak-Ah was the ancient orcish custom of battle between Chiefs to decide who was the stronger. If she’d challenged him, then she would have tacitly acknowledged that they were the same rank, that she wasn’t actually a Dark General, but instead a Chieftainess as he’d named her.
However, by goading him into challenging her, Roka-Ra still had the high ground. If she lost, she would quickly lose it… but so long as she won, her claim to the title of Dark General would remain unassailable. Exactly as planned.
“Hmph. I accept.”
No sooner have the words left her lips then Trol-Kar draws his war axes and lunges forward. He’s quite fast for his size… blindingly quick in fact. But Roka-Ra is no slouch herself. Drawing her sword from her back, she brings it up just in time to block his initial swings. The big black sword is in fact less of a sword and more of a slab of metal, truth be told. It fits her fighting style quite well, however. That is to say… she doesn’t really have one.
“GRAAAAAAAAAAH!!!”
Her enraged shout echoes through the camp as Roka-Ra grows in size right then and there. Her armor expands with her, enchanted for magically fitting to her body no matter how big she grows. Hidden underneath the black armor, the Dark General’s muscles grow and bulge, and she snarls as her eyes go red with anger. Suddenly, she’s just as big as the Orc Chief in front of her, if not a tad bigger.
To his credit, Trol-Kar doesn’t so much as blink. Even though they now see eye to eye, he does not balk in the face of a fairer fight. Instead he lets out a savage sort of laugh and rears back for another swing. Roka-Ra doesn’t let him get it off. He’s clearly expecting her to try and make space to be able to swing her own much larger weapon more effectively. His swing aims to catch her on her way out of his reach.
However, that’s not what Roka-Ra does. Instead, she steps INTO his space, moving past his swing and SLAMS her forehead into his nose in a picture perfect head-bash. Blood spurts from the Orc Chief’s nose as it breaks, and he goes stumbling back. Instead of her having to pull away, it’s Trol-Kar who makes the space between them for her.
In that moment, she could have swung her sword and ended his life in one single motion. Slab though her black steel sword might be, it could still swipe a head from a body with ease. And they both know it too. But she doesn’t. She stays where she is, waiting for him to recover, even as the orcs around them all roar with approval or disapproval. Trol-Kar is not the first Orc Chief to show up with intentions of belittling and diminishing her. He’s not even the first to be goaded into challenging her to Tah-Mak-Ah.
That said, the LAST two to do so both begrudgingly bent their heads after the little maneuver she just pulled. Trol-Kar is the first to steady himself, and upon realizing she’s showing him mercy, get angrier rather than contrite.
With a howl, the Orc Chief surges forward again, his axes flashing through the air with even greater speed than before as he seeks to cleave her head from her body. It is, after all, the only part of her that’s unarmored at the moment. There is in fact a helmet that goes with the armor her Big Sis got for her, but Roka-Ra doesn’t need to be fully kitted out to deal with children like this.
Ducking, dipping, and dodging around his wild swings for a moment, the Dark General waits for an opening. He snarls at her, growling angrily, but Roka-Ra is nothing if not tactical despite her Barbarian Job. As Trol-Kar gets more and more desperate, his movements fast but sacrificing defense at the same time… she finds what she’s looking for.
In an instant Roka-Ra drops into a crouch and brings her weapon around, slamming the flat of the metal slab she calls a blade into Trol-Kar’s right knee. There’s a meaty pop and a high-pitched scream as he goes down, his knee destroyed in a second. He drops one of his axes in order to grab his leg, snarling as he weakly slices the other one through the air as if to ward her off.
Roka-Ra bats his last weapon away with ease, before stepping into the Orc Chief’s personal space once more. She reaches out and grabs him by his hair, yanking his head back with the strength of her rage. And yet, Roka-Ra was not your average Barbarian. Her Big Sis had made sure of that. Even with her eyes blazing red from the primary Barbarian ability, she keeps her wits about her. All of the unbridled strength and raw power of a Barbarian… with all of her mind intact.
That was what made her worthy of being one of Gral-Ra’s Dark Generals. That was what put her above most of her own people.
Bringing the edge of her thick sword under Trol-Kar’s chin, Roka-Ra sees him go still. He knows she has him right where she wants him. And yet, he sneers at her, snarling rather than submitting.
“… Do it.”
Sneering right back, Roka-Ra shakes her head.
“For what? Your misplaced pride? Surrender, Chieftain Trol-Kar of the Bonegnawer tribe. Submit and join me. The Dark Lord IS out there somewhere. They will need every able-bodied orc when the time comes. I will NOT let our people continue to die to infighting and petty things such as wounded pride!”
For a long moment silence falls over the camp as every orc within it waits with bated breath to hear Trol-Kar’s response. For a long moment, not even Roka-Ra knows what the Orc Chief is going to decide. He trembles with emotion, and she half-expects him to force her to kill him after all. It will be the first orc she’s had to kill since sending out her orders. She’s not looking forward to it, but she will ALWAYS do what must be done.
Perhaps seeing that resolve in her eyes is what finally settles it for the Orc Chief. His gaze dips at long last and his shoulders slump.
“I surrender. I submit… to the Dark General Roka-Ra.”
A roar of satisfaction erupts from those around them at Trol-Kar’s acknowledgment, even from his own tribe. Smirking, Roka-Ra pulls her sword away and reaches down, yanking Trol-Kar up by his shoulder. His knee is still destroyed, and he has to lean on her as she helps him off to the side where some other orcs are waiting to take him to the camp’s growing group of shamans. Once they see to him, he’ll be healed up and fighting fit in no time.
Roka-Ra herself lets out a breath and shrinks back down to her normal size once she’s handed him off, before beginning to make her way back over to the map table. However, before she can reach it, she’s stopped again, this time by another orc. She wishes she could say she knew his name. Big Sis would have known his name. But Roka-Ra is well aware of how poor a replacement she is for the previous Dark Lord. In the end, all she can do is hold down the fort until the new Dark Lord reveals themselves.
“General! A letter!”
Blinking owlishly, Roka-Ra looks down at the sealed envelope with her name on it. It hasn’t been opened yet, which is a little surprising, but then… it is addressed to her and there aren’t many orcs in the camp who are willing to cross her over a little curiosity. Heh, there aren’t ANY orcs in the camp who are capable of resealing an unsealed letter either.
That said, most orcs wouldn’t send a letter either, and her name isn’t written in orcish, but rather, Empire Common. Something else she wouldn’t know if it weren’t for Gral-Ra insisting on drilling it into her head.Taking it from the orc’s hands, Roka-Ra tears it open and pulls out the parchment within. The Dark General’s eyes move back and forth across the page as she reads the letter’s contents, also written in Empire Common.
Her nostrils flare the further in she gets and her shoulders hunch inward as a low, building fury ignites in her chest.
“This…”
Everyone in the camp stops moving. Everyone turns towards their Dark General, including Trol-Kar and the orcs helping him to the shamans. The feeling in the air has shifted. There’s a palpable sense of apocalyptic rage growing from the center of the camp where Roka-Ra is standing.
“… They dare. They fucking DARE!”
She almost wants to laugh at the audacity. But she’s too enraged for that.
The contents of the letter are… lies, of course. Have to be. A tall tale designed to distract her, confuse her, and ultimately lead her astray. There’s no world in which any of it is true. And that someone would even think they could get away with this sort of trickery… it makes Roka-Ra’s blood boil like nothing else. More than boil, even. They think she’s stupid. They think just because she’s an orc, they can lead her around by the nose. It’s the only reason she can think of that they would be so incredibly audacious.
A raging inferno of fury and hatred is born within Roka-Ra’s breast and she suddenly whips around, addressing the entire camp.
“ENOUGH! RECALL THE TRIBES! NO MORE EXCUSES! NO MORE HALF-MEASURES! ALL WILL COME TO MY CALL OR ELSE!”
There’s a rustle through the camp at that, as orcs all look at each other, shocked by Roka-Ra’s sudden change. Finally, the orc messenger who delivered the letter in the first place speaks up.
“Or else… or else w-what, General?”
Roka-Ra’s eyes snap to the orc in front of her, and her lips curl back in a tusky snarl. She’s no longer raging at the top of her lungs, and yet every orc in the camp hears her next words. Especially the ones she makes sure to emphasize.
“Or else I and my WARBAND will go to THEM!”
There’s a beat… and then an even greater roar of excitement rushes through the camp at the word ‘Warband’. But then to be fair… this is a big moment. It’ll be the first Orcish Warband amassed in hundreds of years.
Not even Dark Lord Gral-Ra had let them assemble a Warband, mostly because the Dark Lord had never actually gone to war. She’d expected them to unify, but only as a defensive measure. What Roka-Ra was doing now was the exact opposite of that. She was demanding the orcish tribes come together, not to defend themselves… but to take the fight to the Empire at long last.
Even Trol-Kar lets out a cheering roar at this, but Roka-Ra pays neither him nor the others any mind. Her eyes are fixed on the letter clutched tightly in her fist. After a moment, she lashes out and grabs the messenger by his collar.
“Where’d you get this? Who sent it?”
Blinking, the orc does his best to shrug.
“Uh… human courier? Killed him, found the letter for ya on his person… figured it should be delivered, General.”
… Typical and not at all surprising. Releasing the orc’s collar, Roka-Ra just nods… before shredding the letter into scraps right then and there.
“… What’d it say, General?”
Eyes snapping back to the curious orc, Roka-Ra sneers.
“Nothing but lies. Just a bunch of stinking, filthy lies.”
-x-X-x-
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