B3 Chapter 14: Thak’ugund of Clan Gormash

Thak’ugund—Thak to his kinsmen—stared out over the pitiful human city. It’s shiny towers stood tall, taller than the tallest trees of his homeland. The humans spent so much time making pretty things. Pretty things that Thak would take for himself.

He and his brothers had made a few stops on their way here. Small ones, snacks on the way to the true meal. It was the best way they knew to celebrate. They had finally beaten the pesky tricksters of the pass, after all.

They had annoyed them for years. The cowards had hidden atop their walls, using their traps and weakling tactics to take out Thak’s men because they were too afraid to face them in battle.

But it was fine. He had won in the end. The humans could not compete with Thak’s stubbornness and the numbers of his brethren willing to fight and die in battle.

This victory proved he was the strongest of the orcs. And no one would dare stand in his way again.

He had fought many challenges to his leadership, and he had crushed all their skulls beneath his feet. But now, they had arrived. The human city—and everything inside it—would be his.

As cowardly and weak as they were, he had to admit that humans made the best treats. It was one of the many reasons why raiding them proved so satisfying.

Thak licked his lips, a string of saliva slipping off one of his magnificent tusks. He resisted the urge to reach up and feel them in public. As impressive as they were, he didn’t want to appear vain.

“I cannot wait for the attack, warchief,” one of the clan leaders beside him said. The Yurok clan was a strange one, wearing skulls as helmets rather than crushing them underfoot as the Gormash clan did. Thak couldn’t imagine that the trinkets brought them more joy than that satisfying crunch did. But his better judgement was one of the many reasons why Thak was the one in charge.

Regardless of their different preferences for skulls, they both anticipated the coming fight. Even now, they could see the tiny figures of humans running toward their walls, like ants fleeing toward their hill. As though they would save them.

“Why should we wait?” Another put forth the question with a savage smile. “Let us attack at once. Let us charge!”

Thak returned the orc’s grin. A charge was a good plan. A satisfying one.

But as much as his blood sang to rush forth immediately, he managed to hold himself back. He loved the heat of battle, the charge, the feeling of flesh parting before his blade and bones crushing beneath his mighty blows. But his love of battle meant that he always wanted more of it. And what better way to fight more than to win his fights?

“Charging is good. Do you not agree, brother?” Thak turned to look down at the figure beside him. His brother Grund was an unfortunate runt of his litter—only six feet tall when he stood perfectly straight. He was a weakling, his muscles lacking the size and firmness of Thak’s own. It took him at least three swings of a war axe to fell a mighty oak.

Yet despite that weakness, his brother had lived. All his life, their tribemates had seized on the orc’s obvious weakness to challenge him, to beat the warchief’s second in command. They always failed. Grund won every time, even when he should have been easily crushed underfoot.

Of course, Thak had never challenged him. Why would he? Grund was beneath him—in strength, in fighting ability, and in their tribe’s hierarchy. But while Thak fought with strength, bravery, and the ferocity of a lion tearing into its prey, Grund was different. When he fought, it was cold and calculating. He used his head for more than just bashing it into his opponents.

He never went so far as to be called honorless. And while Thak held no doubts that he would still be able to beat his little brother… He still couldn’t help but feel a little glad that he’d never had to fight the whelp.

Grund nodded in reply to Thak’s question. “Yes, brother. Charges are indeed good…”

The orc trailed off unsatisfyingly, as though he had more to say. Thak prodded him. “…But?”

Grund smiled. “But… there is a wall. Can you charge through that wall, brother?”

“Of course we can!” The Yurok clan leader snarled derisively. “No wall can stand between us and our prize. Or do you insult my people, calling us weak?”

Thak frowned. His first instinct was to agree. After all, no obstacle could resist an orc forever. But he had also learned to listen to his brother. And so, he listened.

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Grund shook his head. “I have no doubts that we could use our strength to break through. But every minute we spend throwing ourselves against a wall is a moment not spent fighting our foes. Besides can you charge through a mountain? If we are forced to stop and break down the wall… and the wall is very thik. It would no longer be a charge, would it?”

Thak nodded insightfully. Grund always used many words to say what Thak could explain in few.

“…No.” Thak realized. “It is not that the wall is too strong. But destroying the wall would take time. Time not spent charging.”

The other clan leaders had ranged from skeptical to offended at Grund’s words. But once Thak spoke, they nodded and grunted in agreement.

Grund’s smile widened. “Precisely, brother. The cowardly humans will hide obsequiously behind their stone walls and their metal shells. And as dishonorable as such tactics are, the fact remains that it makes them more difficult to kill.” His voice started to rise as the thrill of battle lit his eyes. “But we shall root them out! And pry their shells open to get at them.”

His brother shook his head hard for a second, barely overcoming the [Battle Lust]

that welled within him—one of the defining features of each and every orc. It seemed like Grund fought it more than his enemies sometimes. But Grund was strange like that.

The younger orc breathed deeply before turning to Thak once more. “Still. We must deal with the wall, brother, if we are to make the humans come out… and make our own way in.”

“We will destroy the wall!” One of the clan leaders shouted, earning a roar of approval from his brethren. Yet Thak frowned.

“But… that will take time.”

“Yes. It will.” Grund agreed. “But there are ways to handle this problem that are more efficient than others. Tell me, brother. How does one crack an egg?”

“An egg?” He asked with confusion.

“Yes.”

“Hmmm…” He only had to think for a moment before clenching his hand into a fist. “Simple. You crush it within your grip!”

“Smash it with a hammer!” Another hollered.

“Throw it on the ground!” Yelled a third.

Grund seemed to sigh as the suggestions rolled in. “While those methods will work, they are flawed. How will you cook and eat the delicious insides if they are splattered against the ground or dripping down your hand?”

“We are no cooks. We are warriors.” Thak growled.

“Of course. But the metaphor—er, the example—is a useful one.” Grund backpedaled slightly. “Rather than try and destroy the entire shell, all you need is one spot. To focus your efforts on a single point. Like that, it takes only a few gentle taps to crack the egg. Then everything will come spilling out.

“The walls must be cracked, brother. Like cracking an egg. Once we break them, we can take what is inside.”

The prospect once again filled the surrounding orcs with excitement. Even Thak found himself grinning. “Yes. The very delicious insides.”

Grund gestured toward the city in the distance. “We must focus our attack at one point and break it. That will be the most effective—and fastest—-way to break through. Then, we will be able to battle to our hearts’ content.”

Thak nodded sagely. His brother spoke good sense. As strange as his way of thinking was, it had not failed them yet. His tricks had even allowed them to drag those pesky humans in the pass down for true battles. So why would they not work here?

Though Thak was a little worried at his words. Why did he know how to crack an egg? Surely he hadn’t been cooking. That was women’s work.

“Although…” Grund continued, his expression thoughtful. “There may be an even faster way into the city. Into battle.”

“What is it?” Thak couldn’t help but ask.”

“Even if we are to focus on a singular point, breaking through the wall will still take time. But… there are ways to get around it entirely. For example, if we used ladders…”

“Ladders?” One clan leader scoffed. “We don’t have no stupid ladders.”

“It will take only a day to make several. Or less, if we are quick about it. And doing so will make sure we can fight even faster.” Grund said.

The orcs grumbled about having to delay. Why could they not simply charge now? But Thak nodded. “All right. If you think it will be faster…”

“I do,” his brother confirmed. “Or, if you wanted to be even faster, we could strike at two or three points, all around the city. That way—”

“That’s dumb!” One of the orcs shouted. “That way weak. Attack together strong!”

There was a chorus of grunts in agreement. Thak nodded too. That was just common sense.

Grund seemed to disagree. “You are not wrong. But only if everyone can attack at the same time. With our numbers, the best way to leverage them would be to—”

“No. We will do it this way.” Thak decided. He had had enough of talking and planning. As the strongest and the leader of their forces, he had decided what they would do. And though he was sure that the others would not normally have patience to build ladders, Thak would make sure it happened. Even if he had to fight a few of his brethren to let off some steam.

“Over the wall is better. One spot is faster. We shall crush our enemies.” Thak stated confidently.

Grund smiled. Not a smile of [Battle Lust], but a strange one. One he recognized as slightly strained. He likely had other things he’d wanted to say, other ideas for the battle. But neither Thak or the others would hear of it. They had a path forward, and they would pursue it until their enemies had fallen.

Liking to talk was one of his brother’s many weaknesses. It truly was a shame that he wasn’t stronger.

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