[The Z]

The blood of three human children drenched his clothes while his own wounds flowed freely. As the crimson haze that had flooded his vision faded, the tears of innocence took its place, fleeing a tainted vessel. In an instance, the pillars of youth had crumbled, smashed by the unforgiving hammers of a barren world; and, the realization that a torrid journey had just been made more dangerous by flashes of dark red lightning overwhelmed the helpless child. There would be no reconciliation amongst the brutal folk that dwelled in the darkest alleys of Athkatla. The Amnish Guard had little sway in the affairs of a haven for criminals. He had become a murderer in the eyes of the public – a symbol of unrighteousness in an already bleak world and a quick few hundred gold pieces for would-be-heroes who didn’t care for explanations behind closed doors. Adventurers would think that they were eliminating a threat to society but they’d be slaying a victim of the very thing they strove to protect. It was yet another display of the hypocrisy of Man: it’s only murder if an ‘innately evil’ creature kills. The child’s knees buckled from this epiphany and the fleeting tears began to wash away the blood. Though his nature had become that of an adult, the purity of childhood remained in the mind and so, the broken child fled to the only sanctuary he knew of: his mother.

“Run that by me again?”

“Boss Erudish…them druids not killed by attack. Too much nature magic. We forced to retreat. They still there. Scouts say they might be hurting bad. Maybe we attack again?”

Erudish’s aide seemed a little too eager to waste soldiers far away from the legion’s real focus, but bloodlust – especially after losing a battle – was to be expected, the half-orc had felt it’s sweet grasp many a time. But sacrificing so many trained and battle-ready troops would certainly hamper their chances of succeeding in a massive assault on the elves. Not that he actually knew whether that was the intended goal of this campaign, but it was his best guess. His job was to deal with the druids.

“No, we’ll need something a little more planned and focused this time, something other then a steady stream of troops.”

“Uh….foe-kussed?”

The half-orc grunted, forgetting that most orcs weren’t as fluent as he was in Common. At times communication was so frustrating that he wanted to rend the entire camp limb from limb. He, himself, was unable to speak Orcish due to his background, which didn’t help matters. Still, it was better then trying to talk to humans, all of whom he’d ever had the dubious honor of engaging, condescended upon him as if he were a child. In fact, most of them ended the night in a casket, bitten by his axe.

“Forget about it, I’ll think of a way to deal with the druids myself. As for you, go and ready the rabble, but make sure that no one leaves this camp for the grove until I tell them to, or I’ll personally feed the troops your carcass when I get back.”

“Er…yes boss. I go right away.”

As the officer left the chamber, Erudish returned to cleaning and polishing his axe. Its previous owner had been a haughty dwarf who had too much to drink one night and decided that challenging a half-orc to a fist fight would further his reputation. Unfortunately for him, it ended up with the his eyes ripped from their sockets, his arms in the rafters and his large bulk being fed to a pack of wolves. The memory always brought a chilling grin to the Erudish’s face.

He couldn’t decipher the runes, but he could feel deadly energy pulse through the weapon whenever he touched it. The axe cleaved through bones as well as it did flesh and was perfectly balanced – a lethal combination in the hands of a skilled fighter. He couldn’t count the number of souls he’d sent to their gods with it and didn’t care. Anyone he killed had suffered less atrocities then he ever had simply because of what they were. For that, they deserved to perish by his hand.

But it would do him no good against a large group of druids, especially since every being in the entire region knew how large the legion was and was waiting for the inevitable siege. He hacked off a piece of firewood and hurled it into the blazing inferno, musing about how many ways fire could bring agony to men. For a long while, he stared blankly into it, memories of suffering and pain haunting his train of thought intermittently while various plans of action passed through his mind.

Finally Erudish let loose a hearty but guttural chuckle as the fire utterly consumed its prey, sucking the life from it. The half-orc vowed that for every one of his brothers that had been slain that day, there’d be two druids burnt to death at the stake. Slinging the axe onto his back, he grabbed as many of his oil-drenched bundles as he could and left his quarters, eager to spill blood - ready to reap vengeance upon his enemies. A bleeding sunrise awaited in the shadows for all of Tethyr.