Rude Awakening

Thorac woke up from unconiousness. The battle (for him) was over before it began. He woke surrounded by his dead brethren, children, and women was a horrid sight. As if the Devil himself swept the valley. He knew what had happened, that gloomy day. The day he lost his wife, child and brothers, his whole world. They were slain by monsters. These monsters came on horses, horses of fiery metal and long pikes. Tools an orc had never seen. He picked himself up and looked at the tall portal, through which they arrived. He contimplated going back, but did not. For, behind that portal lay desolate wastelands, that used to be his home. The Warlock No'org, promised peace, land, a whole new world. He broke that promise.

      These pale-skinned monsters wore metal, and used a weapon unlike the crude axe or maul. They used animals and used sticks of fire and brimstone. They swept the valley like a plague.

      He lay back down and waited, to live, to slip into some sort of false death. He fell asleep, only to wake up to a long piece of shiny metal in his throat. The creature behind the long piece of metal looked like the monsters that destroyed his new hope. He didn't understand the creatures dialect.

"GET UP" the creature screamed.

      The orc in misunderstanding, stared at the ceature and slighty tilted his head.

"RAISE TO YOUR FEET, I SAY" scream the creature louder than before.

    Thorac's mind rushed with anger and fear. This creature was much smaller than him. He glanced to his right. He saw what looked like a large stone hammer a couple inches from his meaty, orcish hand.

In Orcish, Thorac said. "Put down your weapon."

    It just seemed to make the creature more irrate. The creature raised his weapon as if to strike. Thorac took this advantage and grabbed the hammer with his  hand and brought it down on the ceatures knee. The sound of bones breaking, the sweet sound to an orcs ear. The creature cried out in pain. It fell to its knees. The creature feebly swung his odd weapon of metal. Thorac, still on his back caught the creatures arm. Thorac squeezed the creature's wrist until he dropped the weapon. Thorac then got to his feet. Looking at this pitiful creature, Thorac saw his wife, child, and bother flash in his head.

    In Orcish:

"You screwed with the wrong Orc, creature." Thorac said.

With one final strike, Thorac raised his hammer and brought it down upon its head. The skull shattered so completely, It appear as if the creature never had a head at all. Grey matter spewed from the creatures ears and nose. Thorac gave out a mighty war cry. A cry so loud it shook the trees. He took the blood of his kill and smeared it on his brow and on his cheeks. He looked up on the hillside. A sight for soar eyes. Orcs! There standing in the flesh, the Orc King, Duratin.

    Thorac ran as if he was a talbuk on the once green plains of Nagrand. He met with the group of Orcs, happy to see them.

"Duratin, my king" Thorac said

"My family, my brother, my whole caravan was wiped out by these......MONSTERS!"

    Duratin looked at his comrade and said

"My friend, they are no monsters, they are humans. And with time we will heal our land and defeat these puny creatures." The group of orcs raised their axes and hammers and shout as if to shake the Spirit Mother. "FOR THE HORDE!"