Tancrede: Origins - Chapter 1

His gracious guests attacked their meals ravenously, and Odo wondered if one boar would be enough for 5 battle hungry Orcs. He sipped quietly at his glass of wine while they each tore a thick chunk of meat from the boar carcass and began to feast.
"We Orcs are a proud people, perhaps to a fault. Any Orc worth his weight can hold his own against any single member of another race and on that I would swear my life." This comment brought several nods and grunts from around the table.
"As Kron we here in this room are even greater still among our people, for being a warring society, we have advanced to a height that few can claim. Each of us has his own talents that make him excel at battle. That brings you respect, and the respect brings you power."
"I will speak less formally now, having established the basis of respect that I have for each of you and I'm sure you have for eachother. We are brothers in leadership of our lesser Orc warriors."
"Gurk, youngest in the circle. You are said to be able to track a bird in flight on the darkest night and your arrows are said to fly truer than any other Orc."
"Burba, the Warriors call you Gordak, the mountain. Your strength is unmatched even by giants and Ogres. Your warhammer and towering shield have been the stalwart wall behind many Orcs have sought refuge during what seemed a hopeless battle. You turned the tide every time thanks to your determination and endurance."
"Finskarge, your ability to read a battlefield and decide strategies and tactics makes you invaluable. You perhaps more than any here have been cause of more death for our enemies just because of your planning. The schools teach your ways now, and in the future when our children are fighting their battles they will be more prepared than ever before."
"Odis Ty, you are the leader of the Warloks, a position that has power beyond measure. Your magic bolsters the sheer number of our troops with explosive consequences and our enemies quake at knowing you are behind our lines."
"Berg Arda. You used to be feared as the Black Tusk, but with age your tusks failed as all ours will eventually. Now they fear the Crag Tusk, and rightly so. Perhaps you have seen so many battles that you already know what moves your opponents will make by sheer repetition, or perhaps your reflexes are still the best even at your age. Regardless of how you do it, you have remained undefeated on the battlefield and in the dueling arena for over 80 years."
"I'll spend no time boasting my own achievements. The night draws long and I fear you would finish the meal before I finished listing my greatness." The joke went unnoticed, their patience was nearing its end. Odo needed to catch their attention now and draw them into his web. This next part was crucial.
"I intend to overthrow King Galimshan, he has held the Orkin Mantl for far too long and I shall wear it better than he ever did." His guests stopped their chewing, a couple coughed in surprise, and Burba left his seat. The Orc dubbed the mountain towered over the others in the tent, a testament to his reputation. Though he looked intent on striking Odo, his wisdom took hold and allowed him to see the truth behind Odo's words.
As the giant sat down, Odo continued.
"Everything will be done as tradition dictates, I shall challenge him in single combat and afterwards I will be open to attacks from any Orc foolhardy enough to attempt to steal my crown. I bring you hear tonight to hear your thoughts, and to wish you all to my side. Any of you could stand against me and I would find myself hard pressed to find victory, but if we stand together as one you will see the dawn of a new era. Within the month I will muster every able Orc and call to arms every garrisoned warrior our race has to offer. We will strike out decisively against first the Goblins, then the Trolls, and lastly the Deamons. With sound strategy and strength of arms we shall devour the entire continent of Drago, then after we have fortified our positions here we will move against the other continents. I offer each of you a seat by my side. Be my advisors and generals in this campaign to rid the world of anyone not of Orc blood. What say you?" Odo finished dramatically, standing and throwing his arms out wide in a gesture of friendship.
First, silence permeated the air. It was uncomfortable, unnatural, like the very air around them ceased to exist while awaiting the fateful decisions about to be made inside the tent. Berg Arda stood slowly, gripped his great axe, Maundengrom, by the head and threw it to Odo's feet.
"Galimshan shames Orc blood with fear and peace...Not the Orc way. Odo has my Axe and my pledge." Berg Arda took his seat again and stared around the room looking for judgement in the eyes of the others. He found none.
One by one, each of the great Orc generals threw in their weapons, pledging themselves and the lives of their men to Odo. Much more was not said. They embraced as brothers in arms, and discussed nothing more of the coup. The next day they would march back to the Orc capitol, right up to the throne room of King Galimshan and Odo would kill him.


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Odis Ty left the meeting with Odo when at last the others had stopped wagging their tongues. Now the Warlok leader stalked through the Orc encampment with purpose. He needed to know more about Odo, his future king. As he passed camp fires, conversations grew hushed. The Warloks were respected and feared even among their allies, for their power over the magics entwined around the soul was strong. The only thing most Orcs knew about Warloks was that their magic mostly came from studying Daemon writings.

The Warlok leader was a position very near bearing the Orkin Mantl. Odis Ty had no use for such things, his desires lay less in the material and more in the power he could gain through magic. He did, however, need to know how Odo expected to use his crown once taken. If Odo's plans ran a different direction than Odis Ty's then he may not succeed in his coup. For this information he would rely on his closest brethren, his fellow Warloks.
He entered the ring of blood red tents circled around the black burning fire. Symbols of power were written on the ground, on the tents, and even on any stone large enough to bear a mark. This area was off limits to any but the Warloks. This was their temporary place of power, where they could quickly recoup their expended power by feeding on the souls of the dying. Immediately upon entering the boundary, Odis Ty felt the unholy power surging into him. His step was much lighter by the time he reached the black flame, a typical Warlok spell that could be used for many purposes from scrying to syphoning the souls of the recently deceased.
Odis Ty noticed several Warloks in communion around the fire. They sensed his presence as well entering the area, and one by one were aroused from their meditation. When at last they all sat in silence waiting for their leader to speak, Odis Ty began.
“Kron Odo, do any of you know of him?”
A single Warlok stood and stepped forward. “I am Krom from Soltap village. Odo was my school mate and I know him well.”
Odis Ty dismissed the other Warloks to continue their feeding while he and Krom went to his private tent. Food and drink was brought and after brief formalities were exchanged Krom began to tell Odis Ty all about Odo.


Odo ran hard and fast from the battle house, his wooden sword sheathed at his side rapping on his leg with every stride. Even the most curious onlookers paid him little mind, for Odo was looked down upon by his people. His family was not one of great renown. They had no great warriors in their history, his father was a farmer and his mother was a pitiful sickly thing. Though the adults just ignored his family, the children, as is the norm, were much more cruel.
Odo had suffered attacks every day of his life once he had started going to battle school. This sort of play was encouraged, it toughens the young Orcs up and prepares them for the harshness of a real battlefield. But when they fought Odo the odds were stacked greatly against him. Often he had to defend himself from 10 or more attackers, and what was worse, his father had witnessed several of these beatings and not stepped in or offered a single word of defense.
So Odo ran, through the farm land around the village, with half a dozen of his school mates on his tail. Months of this scenario had resulted in Odo being able to outrun most of his enemies, but today the older students were after him. Their longer strides made a simple flight impossible, he needed a new strategy and he needed one quickly.
He ran through a copse of trees and out the other side, into a stand of tall grass and there he waited. He worked hard to calm his breath, hoping to possibly fool them to thinking he had kept running.
Four young Orcs sprinted out past the copse of trees and kept running, but two stayed near the copse of trees, unconvinced that he had continued on past here. They talked hushed between themselves for several moments, then started searching the grass around the copse of trees.
“Where you go Odo?” Grunted the larger of the two. He was fairly close to Odo, swinging his club to search the tall grass and sniffing the air thickly. “We smell you here, clean one. You not run further. You hide.”
Clean one, they called him. Normally Orcs didn’t bathe, but Odo enjoyed a regular schedule. He washed the smells and grime off in a nearby river at least weekly and rubbed himself with ground up plants to make himself smell pleasant. He was a strange boy, for an Orc.
The boy turned just in time to see Odo’s dull wooden blade for a split second. Contact was made, there was a sharp crack of bone or wood breaking. Odo inspected his blade and there was no break, however the elder Orc boy didn’t fare so well; he was unconscious with an obviously broken jaw.
The other elder bellowed a loud roar, alerting the others that their quarry was caught. Odo readided himself and the youth charged, wielding a heavy club. Two wide swings and an overhead chop were easily dodged by Odo’s nimble body and quick reflexes. Odo stepped in for a retaliation strike, but his opponent wisely backed away.
The next volley of club strikes was significantly more advanced, possibly the height of the boy’s training, but Odo was a natural fighter. Though he was several years behind his opponent in training and size, Odo dodged and parried at a slow retreat. He feigned openings, only to be gone when his foe tried to exploit them. The more attacks he missed, the more his enemy became enraged, and the easier it was for Odo to continue his defensive dance.
Finally on another wide club swing, Odo stepped back and knocked the swing even more wide. His foe lost balance and stumbled forward, eyes wide in shock. Odo quick stepped out to the side and landed three precise blows. One to the arm supporting the club, one to the back of the knees, and one to the neck at the windpipe. The club flew from his enemy’s hands as he hit the ground clutching at his throat. The other 4 had arrived and circled around Odo while he took a few steadying breaths. 2 Juniors and 2 from Odo’s own class. The juniors brandished large axes while the sophomores wielded long sticks, usually an indication of poor fighting skill.
Odo fought and screamed as he swung his sword back and forth, fending off four attackers at once. They came at him with no organization, and he dispatched one of the younger ones, but ultimately their numbers won out. The pain was short lived as was his consciousness.

At the story’s end the leader of the warlocks sat with his chin in his palm. The black flame had begun to whither, so he waved his hand at it, breathing new life into the dancing black blades with barely a thought.
“So, outmatched and outnumbered, the outcast was forced to make a stand and still he took three of you down. He must have been extraordinary even then.”
“He was, and that was before he could use magic. That very night the blood moon rose full, and when the scouring came to our town both Odo and I were chosen.”
“I see,” prompted Odis Ty.

The lightning woke him. He could barely hear the patter of the rain through the thick walls of the student barracks, but the thunder reverberated back and forth shaking the entire room where the 2nd years all slept.
Krom sat up in his cot and looked around, nobody else seemed to mind the storm. He was the only one visibly awake, but something was wrong. He looked around the room once more as his senses sharpened, then saw the empty cot. Without even thinking about it, he knew it to belong to Odo. The outcast had become even more strange over the past year. He was always talking about things none of the other students understood, and still he washed away his smell. Krom quietly slid from his bed and put on his trainee’s garb and heavy overcloak. It was mostly a cheaply sewn together bundle of rags, but given the casualty rate of new mages Krom couldn’t blame the school for not supplying better clothing. He crept past Odo’s empty bed to the wall, noting as he passed htat Odo’s robes were gone as well. Another flash of lightning illuminated the blackness outside and Krom saw Odo, the outcast, leaning against the wind as he walked determinedly toward the training grounds.
Out the door, down the hall, and through another door out into the rain Krom ran. He wanted to know what Odo was doing, no he needed to know. Why anyone would go out in the storm in the middle of the night was beyong his understanding, so he followed the outcast deep into the training grounds. When Odo finally stopped it caught Krom off-guard, and he took several steps closer before he realized his lead was no longer moving but standing still in the rain.
Fearing he had been caught, Krom ran several yards to a nearby copse of trees. After several moments Odo still hadn’t moved, so he let himself breathe again. As he sat and watched Odo the rain soaked through his clothes and chilled him, it was raining harder than he’d thought. When he’d watched Odo standing like a statue in the storm for a while, he was just about to give up his curiosity and leave, until Odo started his rutual.
At first he just swayed back and forth waving his arms, his fingers busy in the air. More and more exaggerated motions, faster and faster. Krom realized what was happening just before Odo finished his dance, he was casting a spell. Odo threw his arms forward, and a ball of fire about the size of a grown Orc erupted from his hands and streamed down the training grounds.
Krom sat, mouth agape as Odo terminated the spell in a fiery explosion. Then, pulling the explosion to him, Odo concentrated the flames and power back down into the same ball that caused them. He brougnt it up in the air, high before himself, then down and out to his left and right sides practicing his control. He let the ball of flame alight on his hand and his body took on the flame, only a light orange glow at first. Then the flaming suit increased in intensity, and Krom had to shield his eyes from Odo’s glow.
The rain hissed into steam as it fell onto Odo’s flaming armor and the ground was quickly covered in thick white smoke. Odo waved his hand in front of him and several roughly Orc shaped forms appeared from the mud. A moment later, Odo launched a volley of fireballs at the mud-men, turning them to dust in a flaming explosion. Each ball he shot dimmed his flaming armor, and Krom could see Odo inside it now, smiling maniacally. Again Odo waved his hand, this time creating several dozen of the formless mud-men. Odo roared and the night came alive with fire and dust as he entirely depleted his shield destroying the small army of mud-men in an instant.
The rain picked up and the winds howled fiercly as if in answer to Odo’s challenge. When Krom’s eyes adjust ed to the darkness again, he saw Odo on one knee breathing heavily, soaked through with the rain again with the dismissal of his suit of fiery armor. The night flashed bright and a deafening boom shook Krom as a brilliant spear of lightning hit the earth near where Odo was training. In answer, Odo threw back his head and bellowed a great roar into the night, and he too let a stream of lightning shoot from his hands into the night sky.
Krom ran then, back the way they had come. The rain poured heavy all around him and he ran, not knowing why but knowing at the very least that what he saw should not be possible.
No second year apprentice should know such power as that.