The War of Blood and Bones: Orcs

By Kenneth Guthrie

Lark's desire is to end all humans. The cunning orc decides that only a full scale war between the orc nation and the humans will suffice to sate his thirst for vengeance. This war will be so great that the thought of peace will never exist in the minds of its participants. It will be a war to last the ages and one that will never, ever be forgotten. A war that leaves behind only blood and bones.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lunatic Ink Publishing
• Release date: Jul 14, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465784506

Kenneth Guthrie

Kenneth Guthrie is a writer of sci-fi, fantasy and crime novels.Profile image credit: Vincent Gerbouin at Pexels.com

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THE WAR OF BLOOD AND BONES: ORCS

Kenneth Guthrie

Copyright 2011 Lunatic Ink Publishing

Find more at Kenneth Guthrie’s Book List

For all the people who think orcs should be evil too.

LARK

Lark crouched on the small hill looking down at the ground in consideration of what he had just found. The foot prints were clearly human and he could see the booted imprint of the steel heals that the humans who preferred to ride on the backs of those four legged beasts liked to wear.

Lark considered his mission here. He had been sent to find local towns and villages and to destroy or severely damage the food sources that would keep the human army moving near their lands.

Lark was eager to find one of these villages. He was new to leadership in the small pack of orcs that had been given over to his leadership on the death of the past leader. In Lark's opinion that one had been too weak for leadership anyway. He hadn't found it particularly difficult to hack off the weakling's head and take his current role. It had barely been a struggle really - something Lark was still disappointed with.

Lark yearned to find a human settlement and he knew that his pack members felt the same way. He had broken his favorite human skull a few days ago during a particularly boisterous celebration party and had been feeling sorely at a loss since it had cracked open on his subordinate's head.

He looked down at the foot print in the earth at his feet. It was just one, but could it be the print of a scout sent out from one of the walled forts that humans tended to enjoy building near to this area.

Lark didn't particularly care whether it was a large fort or a small farming village. In his tribe, the young orcs would begin raiding very young, so that they might taste the rich flavor of human blood at an early age. Lark yearned for that blood.

He starred out into the distance from the small peak that he stood on. They would be close - he hoped.

Turning to the short skinny orc, named Pit, who served as Lark's second in command, he ordered the pack to move out. Somewhere out there was a human settlement and he was looking forward to being first to draw blood from those filthy humans that dared to invade his land.

*****

Lark hacked and hacked. The big axe that he always carried with him was perfect for creating a beautifully gory corpse.

He had found the scout much more quickly than he had thought it would take originally. The strange pale creature had moaned at him in its strange language that Lark couldn't even comprehend why anyone would want to speak and then had tried to draw its tiny silver stick of a sword from the sheath at its side.

Lark laughed heartily as he chopped off the little things arm and kicked aside the bleeding heap of flesh so he could chop again at the side of the dead eyed piece of flesh that once was a human being.

The other orcs stood watching with blood lust in their eyes. If they had been the first to find this ugly creature, they would have had their chance to rip and tear at it with the joy and abandon that Lark now displayed, but, due to him being the faster, this would be his pleasure to enjoy.

Lark watched as the creature's insides spilled out from the great rending hole that Lark had created as he went to cutting the little beast in to as many small pieces as he could. This human was weak and in orc society that meant that it should, no must, be killed and mutilated to display the error that came from being weak. This had been the way of the orcs for centuries and Lark held true to these beliefs.

Weakness was an error and an unforgivable one. Lark still remembered his younger brother's weakness in taking a blow from a weakling farmer. The creature had skewed him through the stomach with its little stick. Lark had taken great pleasure in beheading both of them and he still remembered his father's pride shining from his eyes as he looked on the cleanly cut pair of heads that Lark had brought him.

Lark's strokes became a frenzy of blood and chopping. After a few short moments of excitement the corpse was a corpse no longer. Before him lay the many small pieces and chunks of flesh, bones broken and organs spewed in all directions, that had once been the dirty, little monster that had dared to enter his lands.

Lark turned to his pack, his eyes red with rage, anger and lust, and brought his gory axe above his head.

For our lands! he screamed in a great bellow that invited any other humans in the area to visit him for punishment.

The orcs screamed in a flurry of passion and excitement. They had enjoyed the sight and it had been good for Lark to be able to show them his power and ability to reaffirm his leadership of them. There would certainly be challengers for his position in the coming days and he would have to find new orc warriors to take the positions of those that would be punished by his axe, but, eventually, the attempts would lessen as the group began to understand his dominance of them and he would need to kill less and less of them.

Leadership was a hard business to undertake. Subordinates tended to get out of hand very easily and so it often meant that one had to take discipline to rather large extremes to ensure proper behavior. He would have to work hard.

He signaled to Pit and moved over to the four legged creature that the thing was sitting on prior to its death.

The creature shied away from him and tried to run away, but Lark was faster. The beast was fast of the mark, as their kind usually were, but it only took Lark a few sprinting strides to take the creature down with a leap and a massive slashing chop that took the rear leg off the ugly thing.

It fell to the ground with a giant squeal. At least it has a stronger voice than its master, he thought as he cleaved the brown flesh of the thing that Pit had once told him was called a horse.

Its insides flowed to the ground with a satisfying hiss as blood spurted into the air and covered the front of Lark's body. It was warm and comfortable like the moment that a small orc baby was born. Lark felt joy and happiness at receiving the four legged one's life blood. He would not wash himself for a few days to