Orc Training Camp

Grogg opened his eyes. The first rays of sunlight were creeping their way
into his tent. Somewhere in his dream he had heard the bell that signaled a
new day at the orc training camp. His orc brain was slow to respond to the
waking process, and several thoughts went through his head as he tried to
struggle against the grasping roots of drowsiness. Grogg thought back to
what he was dreaming about. He could remember it had to do with his mother.
He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on her visage.

"Grogg, wake up," she said that in that dreamy voice only an orc mother
could have. To Grogg it sounded like a cross between a crystal mountain
stream trickling through the rocks and a saw blade chopping wood. He liked
his mother's voice. It felt very comforting to him. "Wake up, Grogg," she
said again. "Today is a very special day!"
Ah, yes, today. The day Grogg would be sent to the orc warriors' training
camp. As with most young orcs his age, he would be sent to the training camp
to learn the ways of survival and warfare, to one day protect the dear orc
lands from the trampling footsteps of the intruders. Grogg had learned in
school that the orc territory used to be vast and covered much of Norrath,
but with the invasion of humans and elves and their elite weapons, the orc
numbers had been cut back drastically; and now the orcs were struggling to
survive in ramshackle camps with what meager possessions they could loot
from the bodies of their victims. Grogg's father had been an orc warrior.
A very proud man, and Grogg respected his father, loved him as only an orc
child could. But, unfortunately, his father had been slain by the hand of
the invaders several moons ago. Grogg vowed that one day he would avenge
his father's death. Orcs hold a very strong bond for their kin.
"Time to wake up, Grogg," his mother called again. He realized he had
almost drifted back to sleep. Slowly, he crawled out of his straw mat on
the floor and stood up. He stretched a full stretch, then donned his green
training tunic that would carry him to the waiting orc training camp. He
made his way into the main section of his tent-home where his mother was
placing a small wooden bowl of bat wing crunchies cereal on the old oak
table. Grogg did not speak. His mother was cheery. She knew it was an
important day for her son. She let him eat in silence though while she
tidied up the tent and soaked the cooking pots in already dirty water.
Shortly after breakfast, there was a rapping on the tent frame. "Hail!"
came the call. "Come in!" his mother responded still cheery. The tent flap
opened and Grogg watched in awe as the biggest orc he'd ever seen in his
life walked in. He was twice as wide as Grogg was from shoulder to
shoulder, and stood at least twice as high. His armor was shiny gold and
quite impressive. Around his waist he wore a large belt decorated in
various motifs and lined with numerous slashes. He was a giant of an orc;
the likes of which Grogg had never seen.
"I am Legionnaire Gor, assistant headmaster at the Orc Training Facility,"
he began in a booming voice. "I am here for Grogg."
Grogg shyly stood up. He barely came up to the man's belt. His mother
stood behind him. She placed a comforting hand on Grogg's shoulder. "Yes,
I'm very proud of Grogg," she said with that saw blade trickling water
voice. "I am sure he'll make a very fine warrior some day, like his father
was."
The Legionnaire looked down on Grogg. "Yes, looks stout for his age. I
bet your father was a fine warrior," he said, kneeling down to be eye to eye
with Grogg. Then he said, in a quieter voice, "Son, you understand these
are tough times we live in, right? Well, being an orc warrior is not easy.
To tell the truth, countless have died, but we do what we can. There's no
shame to die in combat. Many orcs consider it the greatest honor to die
while protecting their homelands. Now if you're strong of arm and strong of
will, then I know that you too can be the great warrior your father once
was. So what do you say? Would you like to be an orc warrior?"
Grogg was near paralyzed. It was all too much to take in at once. He
could not find his voice, but he knew he wanted it more than anything else.
Slowly, he shook his head. "Very well, then!" said Gor regaining his full
composure. "If you have your things packed then we'll be off. We have a
long day ahead."
Grogg had already packed what little possessions he owned. His mother
handed him the rucksack. He looked at her still unable to speak. The tent
was silent now. Gor let out a small cough recognizing the situation. "I'll
just step outside and check the horses while you say goodbye to your
mother," he said. With that, he turned on his boot heel and promptly
exited.
His mother was the first to speak. "I'm proud of you, Grogg," she said.
Her voice was more water than saw blade now. "And I know you'll make our
family proud. Your father would definitely be proud. I want you to write
as often as you can. I will miss you, you know that." Grogg felt tears in
his eyes. He suddenly hugged his mother very tightly. He let the tears
flow as she comforted him. He did not want to let go. But out of the
corner of his eye he saw Gor standing in the entrance. "We must go now,
Grogg. Daylight moves fast on Norrath."
"Goodbye, Grogg," his mother said finally. He knew inside she must be
feeling terrified, but she was trying to remain strong to not show it.
Grogg still couldn't speak.

The bell had rung again. "Grogg, wake up!" He heard the even harsher
voice of his drill instructor calling him. "March time! Out of that bed,
warrior!"
"I wish I had said something," Grogg muttered under his breath.
"Today's a special day, warrior!" ranted the drill instructor. "You wouldn
't want to be late would you?"
Suddenly it came back to Grogg. Today was a special day. Today was the
day he would be leaving orc training camp. Grogg was graduating. He would
be a full-fledged warrior now and receive his first assignment. As the
realization hit him, he suddenly jumped out of his sleeping sack and donned
his best training tunic. It was gold like Gor's armor had been, but not as
fancy. "I'm ready," said Grogg.

The ceremony had been a short one, though it had been festively decorated.
Alongside Grogg, his other training mates had also been graduated. They
each had to pass a podium and shake hands with the High Chief as they
received their diplomas. As Grogg stood on the platform he searched the
audience for his mother but he could not find her. When he heard his name
called he stood as straight as possible. The High Chief said,
"Congratulations, Grogg! You are awarded the honored Deathfist Belt. Wear
it in pride, and may you make many slashes in it!"
It had been explained that the Deathfist Belt was given to new graduates of
the orc training camp, and they would wear them through the rest of their
service in the orc legion. The slashes represented how many invaders they
had slain in combat. Grogg wondered whatever happened to his father's belt.
As he stepped off the platform, one of the senior officers pulled him aside
by the shoulder. "Orc Chief wants to see you pronto," said the officer.
Grogg wondered what it was about. He made his way to the High Chief's
office and knocked on the door.
"Come in, Grogg," said the Chief. His voice was also booming like Gor's
had been. It sounded more like bones crunching bones though.
"I have some bad news, Grogg." The Chief stood with his back toward him.
He looked out a window at the remnants of the ceremony. "I just received
word that your mother has been slain." He turned around to face Grogg, but
said nothing further.
"When?" asked Grogg.
"Last night. The invaders came through. We had armies stationed in that
area, but they were overpowered. An entire platoon was slaughtered. These
times are bad for orcs. The intruders are getting smarter. Getting better
equipment. It's hard for us to maintain an edge."
"And my mother?"
"She has been buried alongside the other orcs. A marker has been placed.
You will be allowed to return there before reporting to your first
assignment. "
"Thank you, Sir," said Grogg.
"And, Grogg, on a more personal note, I am sorry. I know you loved your
mother. And for what it's worth, I knew your father when he trained here.
He was a good orc and a brilliant warrior. I was also sad to hear of his
death. I am sorry, Grogg."
"And what of my father's belt?" asked Grogg. "What happened to it?"
"Who knows?" replied the Chief. "Looted perhaps. These scoundrels are
notorious looters."
Grogg was silent. The Chief noted this. "You can go," he said. Grogg
turned on his heel as Gor had once done and slowly walked out.

He had visited his mother's grave. He placed some flowers on it. When he
tried to find the words to say a small prayer, all he could think of was "I
wish I had said something." Then Grogg cried quietly until the tears had
run out. Calmly, he picked up his sword and headed off to his first
assignment.

"You will be stationed in the Commonlands," the High Chief had said. "I
know you had lived around that area, and I know it's close to your mother's
grave. You will be promoted to the rank of Centurion. There are
weaponsmiths there who can help you, and if you need spiritual guidance due
to the loss of your parents, there is also an orc oracle. Plus I have
assigned some of my high chiefs to periodically check on the camp. I think
you should like it.
If you survive your tour of duty there, you will be sent to the High Pass
zone. Many good orcs are there to lead your way. However, that's a very
dangerous area as the High Pass Citizens are constantly at war with us. The
intruders make their way into the zone to buy and sell their goods also. Be
safe and cautious, young Grogg."

Grogg reported to the Commons. He reported to the High Chief in charge, a
very grim man with no sense of humor. He was also a man of few words. All
he said was "Welcome to Orc Station One. I hope your survive."

The day was quiet. There were not many travelers in zone. The orcs went
about their business making their weapons and practicing their skills. It
was about near dusk when the alarm was sounded. Instantly, orcs began
shouting and running around him. Grogg responded slowly. But he grabbed
his sword, tightened his Deathfist belt which had begun to show some newly
made slashes, and ran along with the others toward the melee. It was a
small group of invaders - only six of them, but they looked very decked out
in high quality armor and yielding shiny expensive looking weapons. Grogg
knew it was going to be a hard battle. He took a deep breath and rushed
into combat with his battle cry:

"Orc stomp, Orc kill! Orc weapons, blood spill!"

He focused on the nearest to him, slashing away as fast as he could. The
intruder was a tough opponent, an equal match. Grogg wondered if this was
how his father felt just before he was slain. A strange sort of battle calm
came over him then, and even though he slashed away on reflex, he noticed
the sky was turning a dark shade of gray. He could tell it was about to
rain. The fog moved in fast. His mind was aware that he was feeling pain.
He looked down and noticed blood was seeping through his golden breastplate.
He stared at his opponent, not wanting to realize the truth. Grogg was
about to die.
With one mighty stroke of his sword he gave a final effort. The blade fell
short as he saw the huge two-handed sword of his opponent came crashing down
on his armor. Grogg fell over. He looked up at his opponent. He thought
of his mother and father. "I'm coming to join you, father," Grogg thought.
"MY COMRADES WILL AVENGE MY DEATH!" he shouted, but it was no use. The last
thing he saw before his eyes closed permanently was that of his opponent
stripping away his beloved Deathfist slashed belt.

THE END

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