Post by Olorae on Sept 30, 2008 16:30:47 GMT -8
Chapter One
The boy let out a whimper as he fell, thrown to the deck by the short, squat orc. The rough wood bit at his palms, but as he struggled to pull himself up, the orc stepped on the middle of his back.
“Look, boys,” the orc called out to his mates. “Found us a sneak-thief! What’d ya’ say we string ‘im up an’ eat ‘im!” The roar of the other orcs was deafening, shaking the boy to the core. He hadn’t meant to be here, not when they were. It had only been a dare, to sneak onto the pirates’ ship and filch something from the captain’s cabin while they were ashore. He hadn’t counted on them returning early. He hadn’t counted on them catching him.
“No,” called another, slightly larger orc. By the way the others gave way before him, the boy was easily able to identify him, even without looking: Uthanka, terror of the southern seas. “Put him in chains. Work him down, then you can eat him.” The air of disappointment was almost oppressive, but the orcs did as their captain commanded, slapping the boy into chains below decks.
Four years passed, and the boy grew into a young man. He survived through pluck and quick-thinking, always humbling himself before the captain and ensuring he was still seen with value. That, at least, kept him alive, though it had not kept him in one piece. The beatings came regularly enough he had learned to accept them, but the branding that had long since scarred over was still as a fresh wound on his mind. He despaired of ever finding freedom again, resigning himself to a captive’s life at sea, forced to work the labor that even orcs would not do.
That despair, interestingly enough, came at the moment when hope showed itself. He had been caged in the ship’s tiny brig, the cell barely large enough to contain his legs if he sat, the ceiling so low he could not stand straight, while the crew anchored and rowed in to pillage the small fishing village he once called home.
He listened to the screams as the orcs rampaged, listened as the militia took arms against them and drove them back. All went quiet, and he knew what would come next: the Captain would take whichever hostages he’d managed to find to the north shore of the island and he would kill them. It was a ghastly ritual, and one he’d only sat through once.
But this night was different: this was the night Uthanka died.
It had been three days before anyone came to the boat, the boarding party cautious and well-armed. The few guards left behind were easily dispatched by the superior numbers, and the hold was quickly looted.
The young man let out a yell as soon as he’d heard the voices, then bit his cheek to silence himself, knowing of the other raiders that would take a chance to pillage the orc’s boat. He had been heard, however, but was overly relieved to discover the raiders were, in fact, a part of the town militia. He was freed, and quickly found himself on the rowboat back to the island.
He had asked after the fate of his captain, his master, and was told that the orc met a gristly end at the hands of a warlord, the son of a fisherman murdered by the pirate. Inquiring, he learned the man had already left the island for the mainland. He had a name, but that was all.
Someday, he vowed, he would repay the warlord for setting him free.
The boy let out a whimper as he fell, thrown to the deck by the short, squat orc. The rough wood bit at his palms, but as he struggled to pull himself up, the orc stepped on the middle of his back.
“Look, boys,” the orc called out to his mates. “Found us a sneak-thief! What’d ya’ say we string ‘im up an’ eat ‘im!” The roar of the other orcs was deafening, shaking the boy to the core. He hadn’t meant to be here, not when they were. It had only been a dare, to sneak onto the pirates’ ship and filch something from the captain’s cabin while they were ashore. He hadn’t counted on them returning early. He hadn’t counted on them catching him.
“No,” called another, slightly larger orc. By the way the others gave way before him, the boy was easily able to identify him, even without looking: Uthanka, terror of the southern seas. “Put him in chains. Work him down, then you can eat him.” The air of disappointment was almost oppressive, but the orcs did as their captain commanded, slapping the boy into chains below decks.
Four years passed, and the boy grew into a young man. He survived through pluck and quick-thinking, always humbling himself before the captain and ensuring he was still seen with value. That, at least, kept him alive, though it had not kept him in one piece. The beatings came regularly enough he had learned to accept them, but the branding that had long since scarred over was still as a fresh wound on his mind. He despaired of ever finding freedom again, resigning himself to a captive’s life at sea, forced to work the labor that even orcs would not do.
That despair, interestingly enough, came at the moment when hope showed itself. He had been caged in the ship’s tiny brig, the cell barely large enough to contain his legs if he sat, the ceiling so low he could not stand straight, while the crew anchored and rowed in to pillage the small fishing village he once called home.
He listened to the screams as the orcs rampaged, listened as the militia took arms against them and drove them back. All went quiet, and he knew what would come next: the Captain would take whichever hostages he’d managed to find to the north shore of the island and he would kill them. It was a ghastly ritual, and one he’d only sat through once.
But this night was different: this was the night Uthanka died.
It had been three days before anyone came to the boat, the boarding party cautious and well-armed. The few guards left behind were easily dispatched by the superior numbers, and the hold was quickly looted.
The young man let out a yell as soon as he’d heard the voices, then bit his cheek to silence himself, knowing of the other raiders that would take a chance to pillage the orc’s boat. He had been heard, however, but was overly relieved to discover the raiders were, in fact, a part of the town militia. He was freed, and quickly found himself on the rowboat back to the island.
He had asked after the fate of his captain, his master, and was told that the orc met a gristly end at the hands of a warlord, the son of a fisherman murdered by the pirate. Inquiring, he learned the man had already left the island for the mainland. He had a name, but that was all.
Someday, he vowed, he would repay the warlord for setting him free.