Growing up under Moredliv's wing, Tuldilla had become one of the Orcs. He would talk like them, act like them and fought like them. He was loved and respected by the village folk. Except for one: Nergui. Nergui was Moredliv's son and heir to his throne. Ever since his father adopted Tuldilla, Nergui had hated Tuldilla for the sole reason that he was not a native orc and did not belong amongst their people. Despite Nergui's opression, Tuldilla grew into an amazing mounted archer and ranger for Moredliv's Orcs. An ambitious young man, he believed that Orc expansion and domination would lead to peace and prosperity among the races. Deep in his heart, he knew that there was more to them than simple plains nomads...The potential of an Empire was there for the Orcs.
One day, when Tuldilla was around 28, and his sister Magdolna 30, and brother Attiath 38, Moredliv consoled his adopted son. He stared over the plains with a look of dread in his eyes, the wind blowing through the plains. Tuldilla looked up at his father. Tuldilla had long, dark brown hair, a grey glaze of facial hair, and blue eyes. He wore a lamellar armor set of steel and leather. His father looked down at the ambitious Tuldilla and smiled. "War is coming Tuldilla. I will ride off to battle tonight against the combined forces of the Monodranis military. I have confidence that I can beat them...But rumors have risen up that I am soft. There are traitors among the Orcs."
Tuldilla nodded. Truth be told, he had felt treachery against Moredliv in the tribes too. Moredliv was accepting and a fair king...Some ignorant Orcs believed that he was "soft". "Father, I beg you to give me a chance to prove my worth! I am ready for the Monodranis, you yourself said that I was the best ranger in your forces." Moredliv motioned to one of the young Vindlae boys, rangers in training, to fetch his horse. "Tuldilla, you must accept the possibility that I may not return. I have brought many of my reserves into combat, and I don't think I will survive. If I do not return, you and Nergui shall ascend to the throne."
Tuldilla looked like he was about to say something, but paused. He bowed before his father. "May Taemgris bring you vengeance against the hated Monodranis. I love you father." Moredliv nodded, before riding away, his thousands of troops following him in a stampede across the plains. Truth be told, Tuldilla had nightmares of his father's death for quite some time now. He wanted to tell him of these dreams, but decided against it as they would only make him angry. He walked into the village where he sat inside his Yurt. Magdolna sat praying. She had raven black hair and was rather attractive for an orc. She had large yellowish-brown eyes, and was marked in Orcish war-paint. "You know he's not coming back, don't you?" spoke Magdolna.
Tuldilla sighed. "We don't know that Magdolna. He's gone up against oceans of enemies and come back victorious. He is Talaekonae, a ranger of Taemgris..."
Magdolna turned around and looked up at Tuldilla, shaking her head. "Don't you understand? Moredliv is getting old, he is not the athlete he once was. He and his most loyal troops are going on a suicide mission to try and weaken that bastard Slaveen's forces. Once they're weak enough, he'll send in the Minotaurs and drive them out...But he's not coming back."
Now, Tuldilla really did start to tear up. He hugged his sister as he cried, his eyes becoming red. "Why didn't send me? I wouldn't let one Monodranis touch him! I'd fight them off till my legs gave way."
Tuldilla and Magdolna heard a malicious and cruel laugh. Turning around, they saw Nergui. Nergui was a massive orc, a full 8 ft tall and brimming with muscle. His tusks hang out, one of them cracked. His skin was marked with scars and war paint, his skin a light-brownish green.
"Because he thinks you are his future...You and me anyway. You know, he really is lucky that he took the easy way out. I would've had him suffer slowly. Letting non-Orcs into our fair society...Disgusting. Keep your eyes open Tuldilla, I'd be watching your back...Before I stick an arrow in it..."
Nergui walked away, laughing softly. Tuldilla left the Yurt and walked into the field, his axe in one hand and his shield in the other. He took a deep breath, and began to practice. Swinging, hacking and slashing with his axe, and swinging and bashing with his shield, he grunted and sweated profusley as the hours passed. Still, he continued, as the Orcs would need a true ranger to lead them.
Log in to comment