[The Z]

He was thrust to the ground headfirst and not for the first time. Blood and sweat trailed down his face, a bitter mixture that hung on his tongue as it seeped through parted lips. The blows came swiftly and surely, screaming and stinging. The child was a victim of having half of his blood spawned from an orc, and for that small, uncontrollable facet, the youth of Athkatla would rather see him caged – bound and broken – then let him traverse the slums – his home. The scornful giggles, the gut wrenching curses upon his race, they shackled his soul and crushed his livelihood. As the uncontrollable rage overwhelmed his consciousness, the half-orc saw the hypocrisy of Man for all that it was in a single thought that branded itself in his mind. Civilization was supposedly what put humans on a pedestal above the so-called lesser races. But this fallacy only seemed to motivate sadistic practices against those considered uncivilized and foreign. He wondered who was really the barbarian – him or those who would lash out at him for his ancestry. The child’s eyes glazed over in a tide of crimson and he roared as he threw his oppressor from his back.

Erudish stared coldly at the prisoner. She was an elf – a ranger – who’d made the mistake of venturing too closely to the orcish legion’s encampment. For that, she’d ended up chained and hung naked from the support beam of his tent. With evident disdain, she spoke to him.

“Have you come to ravage me as your father did to your mother? Or have you come to futilely beg for information I would never give?”

“Neither,” he replied in perfect Common, “I’ve come to bring you agony.”

The half-orc yanked the woman’s beautifully shaped pointed ears and rammed her head against his plated armor. Snarling, he continued in a harsh, guttural tone.

“Go ahead, spit upon my mother again! Do it so I may break your bones, one at a time to give you an inkling of the suffering she was forced to endure for my sake! Make me break you, I dare you to.”

The elf was still dazed from the blow he had dealt her; unceremoniously, Erudish grabbed her wrist and wrenched it from its socket. As her shrill scream of pain flooded his quarters, the half-orc grinned menacingly, pleased at the havoc he had wrought. His conception was the beginning of an endless circle of violence that he had embraced – reluctantly at first. But watching faces twist contortedly was like a masterful painting and listening to cries of anguish was as symphonic as an Elvish choir to him. The ranger’s weak voice squeaking from a now overly pale face awoke Erudish from his thoughts.

“I….will give you….nothing…”

A shield was slammed into her side, cracking ribs and opening a wicked cut on the torso that spewed the elf’s insides. The half-orc’s growl grew to a roar as he hammered her body with his fists and slapped her face with the force of a battering ram. She howled, and was smashed again and again by a furious assault that ended with blood on his hands and tears dripping down her slender face. Erudish’s face was now only inches away from hers as he choked her.

“And I want nothing. Except for you to understand that all of you civilized races’ arrogance is a façade to hide the twisted nature that dwells within. You may think that I’m an evil, cruel, and sadistic individual. But I’m repaying the people that would treat my people like cattle in a slaughterhouse. At least I’ve given you the honor of being a prisoner, albeit, for a very, very brief period of time.”

As he released her neck and turned, the elf coughed and grimaced with relief. But Erudish returned, clutching a massive great axe with both hands. Her soft blue eyes widened but she could make no sound as fear took control.

“This…is for the Orcish race…” he hissed.

The axe sung through the air.