Medieval Midtown

              Snow fell from the sky covering the green grass in a blanket of white. The tall wintergreen trees which survived the cold of winter inevitably fell victim to the biting frost. Wind blew fiercely slamming hard against loose windows scaring small children to retreat under their blankets. Houses lined the streets, smoke billowing from their chimneys. It was a harsh storm, one that Midtown hadn’t seen in a very long time.
         
            Tucker James stood at his tenth floor window staring intensely at the blizzard roaring just outside his apartment. His forehead wrinkled slightly as a whistling gust of wind shook the glass in front of him. Shaking his thick brown hair he turned around in his apartment and smiled. The storm broke the monotony of his boring life. Looking around his room he saw his fantasy novels lining the large bookshelves and took comfort in them.
         
            Tucker by every definition was a geek, but not just any ordinary geek. When he went to high school he mingled with the jocks as well as the nerds and kept a nice medium between those two separate worlds. One day he would be found in the gym playing ball with the football team and the next in the library attending a chess club meeting. By and by he was an average person, and everyone liked him.
         
            Now fresh out of college he had started a web design business and when he wasn’t working diligently on a project he would be found reading a classic adventure book, or ordering another weapon online. Over time he had gathered a respectable amount of both of these and took great pride in his collections. Almost every day he could be found on his roof testing out his new find online, whether it was a replica sword from the latest fantasy movie or a forged steel battle axe from England. This had become a nightly habit and this night was no different.
         
            Tucker had just received a large twin-bladed battle axe from a Norse distributor and was excited to see how well it would hold up in combat, whether or not he would ever use it he didn’t care, he just had a lot of fun pretending he would. Walking up the stairwell to the door leading out to the roof he remembered that he had forgotten his coat, and with a storm roaring like he had seen out of his window, it would be necessary. As he started walking back to his apartment a large crack emanated from outside. It shook his building slamming him hard against the wall of the hallway.
         
          Gaining his balance he quickly ran back up the stairwell not caring whether he had a jacket on or not. Kicking the door open he bolted to the edge of the roof. Looking over the safety rails he witnessed a series of dark purple clouds that he had never seen before in his life. As they collided with one another they created bright piercing bolts that struck the ground. Tucker watched in amazement. The cold wind bit deep into his skin, but he hadn’t cared, the sight in front of him was astonishing. He couldn’t take his gaze from it.
         
            The two largest of the clouds slammed into each other bringing forth a giant bolt of blue lightening which cracked like a giant whip shaking the earth to its core. Tucker was thrown from his feet. The air was forced from his chest as his back met the hard rooftop. Only by luck had he kept a firm grasp on the axe. Scrambling to his feet he coughed trying to bring precious air back into his lungs.
         
              Looking over the edge once again, Tucker became overwhelmed with fear. He was having a difficult time keeping his balance as he watched in horror. The main street heading towards downtown was splitting apart. Green humanoid creatures began to flood out of the wounds in the earth. Clad with primitive armor and weapons they crowded the streets and ran into the city.
         
              “My god…” Tucker exhaled, “Orcs?”
         
                He exploded through the door back into his building. Running down the hall he slid before his door and launched himself inside. Striding across his living room he pressed his face to the window and looked outside. The scene in front of him looked like it was straight out of a movie. His eyes widened dropped the axe and put his hands to the window and yelled.
         
                A man walked out of the post office across from Tucker’s building. Flipping through bills he looked up and stared into the smile of a giant green orc. An eyebrow rose as he looked on. The orc laughed and slimy spittle splashed onto the man’s mail.
         
              Tucker pushed his window open and yelled down, “Run! That thing will kill you man!”
         
              The orc growled and looked behind his shoulder, a leather battle harness strapped across his massive chest made a rubbery sound as he turned. Tucker stared straight into the orc’s beady red eyes. He yelled as the orc turned back around swinging his sword slicing through the man’s neck. His head fell to the ground with a thump followed by his body. The letters dropped from his hand and flew away carried by the wind.
         
              Gaudy laughter exploded from the orc’s throat then turned his attention on Tucker, his legs pumped charging like steel pistons. With every step the orc took it shook the bulb atop a street lamp until it fell from its perch crashing onto the street below. The orc jumped brandishing his sword and grabbed onto the ledge of the first floor. Sticking his blade into his teeth he reached up with his hand and grabbed the window pane above him and hoisted himself up.   
         
              “He isn’t!?” Tucker gasped and slammed his window. He rushed to his computer and logged onto the internet. Clicking keys he brought up a mythology website. His eyes skimmed the frames and then double clicked on a link named The History of Orcs. He read aloud, “The orc, a humanoid relative of the goblin and ogre. Legend has it that the orcs were banned to the island of Insi Orc off the coast of Ireland. Deriving from Grotto Del Orco, an Etruscan tomb where in a fresco wall mural portrayed the awaking of the underworld where Satan would unleash his army of orcs to cleanse the earth. The name Orc originated from the Old English Orqendi Ogressi translating into Ogre Demon.”
         
              Tucker stared at those last few words for a moment and yelled out, “Ogre demon!?”
         
              He jumped from his computer chair and rushed to his rack of weapons. Shuffling through the many blades and maces he couldn’t find anything he thought could handle an ogre demon. His head twisted hearing the orc grunting from the outside and noticed the Norse battle axe lying by the window. Instinct kicked in and he vaulted for the axe. Grabbing it he rolled into an offensive position just in time to see a massive green hand break through his window.
         
              “Come and get some demon!” Tucker cried out.
         
              The orc lifted himself into the room and grasped the sword from his teeth. Blood dripped from the blade and dribbled down his chin. The orc came at him fast and swung its blade in a wide arch. Tucker jumped to the side avoiding the blade and slammed the front of the axe into the orc’s gut. It roared in anger, reached around on his battle harness and pulled off another sword. Tucker ran backwards into the kitchen. He grabbed a cleaver from the knife rack and threw it hard at the orc.
         
                It sliced into his left shoulder spraying blood every where. A grueling whelp escaped his lips as he pulled from his flesh. The orc was angry and it yearned for the taste of Tucker’s life. In a rampage he charged crashing over a recliner. His foot stepped onto the ataman release and the back of the chair flew backwards sending the orc flying head over heals slamming hard into the wooden floor. Tucker saw the opportunity and seized it. Bringing the twin-bladed axe down hard it sliced like butter through the orc’s skull.
         
              Gray matter splattered every where and the stench of rotted meat emanated through out the apartment. Tucker had to muster everything in his body to keep from vomiting. A pool of blood already began to form around his chair and he had to back up to keep from stepping in it.
         
              The orc had been defeated. This made Tucker feel pretty good but it was far from over. This was one of a thousand orcs piling into his city. Snow blew in from the window making Tucker feel the hard bite of what was happening. He was abrasive to look out of the window. As he peered through he looked down and was shocked to see that surrounding his building was over a hundred eager Orqendi Ogressi.
         
                With axe in hand Tucker walked from the window. He pulled the leather harness off the dead orc and strapped it around his own chest. Walking to the weapon rack he grabbed a long sword equipped with a scabbard and tightened it around his waste. He grabbed two long fighting daggers and put them into the orcish harness and then put the axe over his shoulder and placed it on a rung on his back. On the wall hung an elvish style bow, he grabbed it and rapped the sinew around his shoulder. Below it on the floor was a quiver full of arrows and put that on opposite the bow.
         
                He was ready for battle. Opening the door to his apartment he headed down the hall and into the elevator. A bing sounded as he reached the ground floor and stood there as the sliding doors opened. Tucker grabbed the bow and pulled it out and around. He stepped out and smelled the pungent aroma of ancient sweat.
         
                As he turned left to find a safe way out orcs began to file in through the glass door. More poured in, the glass shattering under their wait. Pulling an arrow from the quiver he placed it on the sinew and drew it back. The arrow flew straight and true and imbedded itself in the first orcs forehead. Down another hall way he ran to escape the mob. He approached a fire escape and kicked out with his foot opening it. As he flew out of the door into the open air he stepped into another group of orcs.
         
                “What the hell?”
         
                The apparent leader of the group stepped forward and with a grungy deep voice said, “We are the army of Satan and the rise of hell has begun.”
         
                “Over my dead body!” Tucker cried out pulling the axe from the harness.