Page 6 of Scoring the Orc
"Captain," he rumbles, his deep voice resonating with the gravity of the moment. "If we claim victory, the human is yours, right?" His question isn’t about greed—it’s about order, about knowing who leads and who follows.
I nod firmly, meeting his gaze. "Yes, the prize will fall to me. But it's not about owning a slave—it’s about proving a point." I let my gaze sweep over the circle of my team, ensuring each of them understands the stakes beyond the physical. "We're not just fighting for victory in the arena; we're fighting against Aleryn's arrogance, his disrespect."
Murmurs of agreement ripple through the group, their usual rowdy energy turning into a focused, fiery determination. They understand what I am driving at—not just a win, but a win that humiliates our rivals and throws their plan back in their faces.
"We use what he thinks is a weakness as our strength," I continue, my voice rising with my building passion. "We show him that we're not distracted by the stakes; we’re empowered by them. We fight harder because he thinks he can manipulate us with them."
Grunts and nods of approval answer me, the orcs clenching their fists and banging their chest plates—a heartening display of unity and readiness.
I snort, the sound rough and dismissive. The very idea of owning such a creature as a human slave holds no appeal. What use would I have for one? Feeble, frail, always requiring protection rather than providing any strength or resolve. The notion itself is almost laughable, if not for the irritation bubbling within me.
Humans are only good at housekeeping and quick fucks. That’s it.
And I have many orc women desperately waiting for a chance to slip into my bedroom these days. How can a human woman compare with them?
Aleryn's audacity to use this as a tactic gnaws at my insides. It's a mockery, a slap to our faces—thinking he can unnerve us with such a paltry offering. He underestimates us, thinks us simple, easily swayed by the prospect of owning another life. But we are orcs, not collectors of weak trophies.
With a guttural growl that rumbles from deep within my chest, I clap my hands sharply, the sound echoing like a war drum across the training field. "Back to work!" I bellow, my voice carrying the command of a leader unswayed by petty games. “Give everything you have into this training. Work as if your lives depended on it!”
The Bloodcrushers fall into line with a renewed intensity that even the ground beneath our feet seems to feel. We attack the training equipment with a ferocity that would make the mountains tremble. Each hit against the padded dummies is a promise, each dodge a rehearsal for the upcoming battle.
I watch as Krodash slams into his target, the dummy barely withstanding the force of his wrath. His movements are a dance of destruction, each step, each swing, each grunt infused with the raw determination to crush our adversaries.
“Think of each strike as a blow to Aleryn’s arrogance!” I shout, moving among my warriors, pushing them to exert every ounce of their strength. “Let the dark elves feel the quake of our resolve!”
The air fills with the sounds of grunts and the thud of impacts, the scent of sweat and dirt mingling with the crisp evening air. My heart pounds in rhythm with their efforts, my own blood heating with the visions of victory, of seeing the shock on Aleryn’s face when he realizes his gamble has failed.
Our victory over the dark elves will be euphoric.
The evening deepens as we, the Bloodcrushers, gather in a tight-knit circle under the fading light. Exhausted yet exhilarated, each breath is a testament to the day's hard work and a pledge for the upcoming match. Around me, my brothers stand tall, their eyes alight with the fire of warriors ready to demolish any opponent.
Hrogun, ever the stalwart, claps a hand onto my shoulder—a solid, reassuring weight. "Solid work today, Jurto," he rasps, his voice a hoarse echo of our day's efforts. His grin splits his face, not disguising his scars but highlighting them—a warrior's proud badges.
Krodash, a tower of strength among us, nods with a satisfaction that rumbles deep within his chest. "Aleryn won't see us coming," he booms, a chuckle threading through his words, the sound like rolling thunder promising a storm.
Beside him, Borka matches his ferocity with a growl of his own. He flicks his braided hair back, his eyes sharp and ferocious. "Let's shock them. I want to see their faces when they realize they've misjudged us," he growls, the thrill of the challenge vibrant in his voice. And the desire to win is ever present in his eyes.
Kraag, fierce as any seasoned zyrphix player, clenches his fists, his features set in a determined scowl. "They'll remember this game for ages," he declares, his energy infectious, sparking a round of approving nods and grunts from the group.
I survey my brothers, feeling the unbreakable bond that has been forged through countless battles and shared victories. "We are more than a team," I declare, my voice slicing through the evening chill. "We are brothers. When we face Aleryn’s team, we fight not just for victory, but to uphold the honor of the Bloodcrushers."
A roar of approval erupts from the group, a primal sound that would send chills down the spine of any who hear it.
As they begin to disperse out of the practice arena for some well-deserved rest, I remain behind, my gaze fixed on the horizon where the last light of day gives way to the night. Thoughts of Aleryn, with his cunning and contempt, flicker through my mind like sparks from a fire.
Silently, I make a vow, my resolve hardening like forged metal. I will be the one to face him on the field. My eyes will meet him as I deliver the decisive blow, a blow that will crush his arrogance. For every slight, every disdainful look he has dared to cast our way, I will repay him tenfold.
Tonight, I will rest, and my dreams will be of the game. But on the morrow, Aleryn will come to know the true cost of underestimating the Bloodcrushers. And I will ensure his pride is thoroughly shattered beneath the might of our brotherhood.
5
EMILIA
“Get up.”
“Hm?” I mumble, eyes still closed and body still aching for sleep. I hardly know what’s going on before someone roughly grabs my right arm and yanks me out of bed. “What--”
“Get up!”