Looking at his people smoldering away to ash he donned his father’s war helm and sheathed the two short swords that had once belonged to his sons. He didn’t say goodbye as he turned his back on the only place he called home. He knew he would not return nor did he know where he would go. That was much too far ahead of his current plan. The enemy had been swift in their murderous raid, though he knew their scent well and their tracks were fresh, even in the dark.
Jotnar charged through the dark hilled forests like a raging mastodon. Thunder and rain were the only noises to be heard besides his heavy breathing. His heart felt like molten lava about to erupt from his chest. He was anxious for battle, his axe hungry for the kill. A pack of hungry wolves steered clear of him as he leapt from rock to rock crashing through the thick twisted trees. His father’s war helm made him to appear as a massive boar on the hunt. The wolves whimpered as he clenched his axe in both hands, finally slowing his pace. He knew the bastards were close. He could taste their foulness in the air.
He did not know their numbers nor did he care. He hoped if anything there were enough to build a throne of skulls high enough for the gods to see. Slowly he stalked his prey, his breathing now becoming steady. Step by step he advanced on them. Their arrogant ways and carefree attitude would be their undoing. The camp was filled with a dozen small fires and many of them were no longer wearing their armor. He smiled as he stepped forward out of the darkness. They stared at him unsure of who he was at first. He counted thirty of them. He moved his head side to side as he sized up his foe.
“I am Jotnar , last of Clan Gorgrom. I have come for your heads!"
With a mighty roar he launched his axe at the first to make a move and unsheathed his sons’ swords to slice and hack his way through the thick of them. Arrows shot out past him and the enemy sprang to meet him, the giant Jotnar in combat. His war cries shook the heavens it seemed as thunder rolled on. Bodies fell around him as he spilled guts and cleaved heads and arms clean from their bodies. Their soft, pale skin was no match for the brutality of his war dance. It was a haze of bone breaking bloodshed and the swirl of golden hair and polished armor. His enemy was fast beyond the reckoning of Man, but they died just the same. He splintered their glittering spears with his axe and sword. Crushed their skulls with head-butts from his father’s war helm and stomped their lives out of them in the mud. Foe after foe died screaming at the barbarian that swung axe and sword, carving aterrible and bloody path. Their screams for mercy meant nothing to Jotnar.
Less than half remained; the bodies lay all around him, pools of blood and limbs mixing with the soft earth. He raised his arms in defiance as more arrows flew to meet him. He swatted them away in pure annoyance. Removing the helm he snarled and roared again.
“Look upon my face and into my eyes elf-things! May it be the last vision you have before I send you to the abyss! Come you spineless cowards; die by my hand as my people died at yours ,you dogs!” He charged again. His axe sang a death song like no other, his father would have been proud.
Three Elf heads flew into the air from his attack and two more stepped in to parry his axe. He cursed them to their faces and spat in their eyes. He shoved them back and to the ground with his massive shoulders and plunged his sword through their bodies until he felt the earth touch his blade. His continued his wrath of butchering any who rose to meet him in battle. He took great pleasure in seeing their faces as their souls left their eyes. Some of their spears bore into him or some lucky swipe of their elf steel had cut him, but for each strike mighty Jotnar gave, an elf fell in pieces.
Two more squared off with Jotnar. Somehow he knew they were different. Their armor was of heavier metals and their heads were shaved clean. Their deep set eyes focused on the blood covered Jotnar, his muscles rippling as he barely controlled his anger and contempt for them. He knew what they were now as they circled him and became poised to strike as one.
Jotnar spat and growled deeply.
“Honor Guard swine. No honor in killing small children and old men while they sleep. Come, test your blades against my axe ! “
The two Elves said nothing as they attacked in unison, spinning and side stepping Jotnar’s attacks as they stabbed and sliced at him. The speed at which they did so almost blinded him, but he had not a care for the mere scratches and punctures their long swords made. He had no fear of death and would continue to kill until he could lift his hands to kill no more.
He was bleeding from a multitude of wounds. The Elves became frustrated and began to attack out of tune with each other, hoping to end Jotnars life. It was their mistake. One of them over extended his sword arm and was grabbed so fiercely by Jotnar that his throat was nearly crushed. He turned him so quick that the second Elf did not have time to react as his own sword pierced his battle brother right through the belly. Jotnar laughed and threw the whelp aside as he kicked the stunned elf to the ground. He did not have time to feel sorry for killing his own comrade as Jotnar swung his axe, sending his head towards the last combatant who had been standing in silence the entire time.
“ You must be their captain aye ? “ He asked wiping the blood and flesh from his axe.
His high cheek bones and flaxen braids and cold gray eyes made Jotnars blood boil. He was not a common elf thing like the others, no he was a High Elf from beyond the Mountains of Durran. His armor was ornate and his cloak no doubt was of the finest silks.
“I am Gaelwyn Heylborn, Warden of my Lords Realm.” He bowed to Jotnar , though his eyes burned with hate.
“Your lords realm ? Since when do Elf things rule OUR lands! ?! My clan has made our home here for generations you arrogant dog ! By what right to kill innocents while they sleep? Burn our crops and slay every last one to the pup? Your lord’s head must be full of piss and shit.” Jotnar trembled as he fought the urge to strike down the elf captian.
“For years your clan has fought our cousins to the West. For years you have been a thorn in my Lords side, aiding raiders from across the Sea of Woe and sending your best warriors to join the armies of Heimdull. Innocent I think not. It’s in your blood , Orc. You cannot live in harmony amongst us here in the Realm. That is why we deemed it necessary to be rid of you once and for all. “Gaelwyn stated as he drew his gleaming sword.
Jotnar’s eyes narrowed and his hands tightened on his axe handle.
“Half-Orc ,you elf dog. I am both and neither and you shall remember my name, even after your death.”
Gaelwyn nodded to his adversary as he swung upwards with his blade and drove his knee into Jotnar in one fluid motion. Jotnar reeled but stayed on his feet, the sting of a fresh cut he began to feel. He realized his ear was no longer there, he scoffed at the elf. He was even faster than his Honor Guards. Gaelwyn twirled his blade, the flash of lightning bouncing off its mirrored polished steel. His face was without emotion as he beckoned Jotnar for another go with his open palm.
“High born bastard.” Jotnar hissed as he gave the elf a long sweep with his axe.
Gaelwyn leapt above the axe blade to avoid losing his legs, only to feel the hammer like blow of Jotnars left hand into his chin. The elf was dazed by the swiftness of the riposte. Jotnar had over a dozen wounds and had been fighting for hours and still showed no sign of weakness. Gaelwyn increased his attacks; stabbing and cutting at the mighty half orc, hoping to slow the beast down for a killing blow. He began to sweat and his eyes betrayed him. Jotnar knew the look as he had seen it in a hundred faces, on a hundred battlefields.
The fear began to creep into his mind, the nervousness of not knowing how to defeat your rival in hand to hand combat. Gaelwyn began taking to the defense as Jotnar assailed him with such vicious precision, the elf captain’s armor buckled and his blade shattered like shards of glass. He fell to the mud. Jotnar kicked him relentlessly, the elfs ribcage crushing into himself. Jotnar’s axe rose and fell into the elf’s shoulders and torso, armor splintering and hot blood spewing from the severity of his blows.
Gaelwyn looked up into Jotnars eyes. He could barely keep from falling over as he tried to curse the half orc. Only a bloody froth left his lips though.
“I hope to kill you again in the afterlife again elf dog, but for now this will do.”
He grabbed Gaelwyns head by his blood and sweat soaked golden braids, lining up for the death blow. His breathing was easy again; his heart was hotter than the depths of the seven hells. His axe hand was steady as he pulled it back; his grip was iron and eyes colder than the vast tundra.
“HAIL CLAN GORGROM ! “ Jotnar bellowed as his axe cleaved his enemies head from his body, a cascade of gore showering him in sweet vengeance.
FOR COREY
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