[1 – Ork + Pen]

  [Soulless Journal Entry # 53 Y: 14?006]

  Humans. They fill me with the great loathing only an abandoned child can feel for their parents. I have agreed to assist in the overtaking. ”Assist”. Rather, I show them the way of the orks of old.

  However, much can be said about the leadership of our own. To rule by fear is not bad. But it has to be done with respect as well. Now, to rule by sheer terror – well, I care more about my own excrement. The way it distinguishes a blooming flower, for example. Beautiful as the next red sunset.

  Why then play along with these empty cranial egg-heads, and ’the little peas’?

  Speaking of goblins; I have not the tiniest incling of a clue what Gorefail sees in them. To let them have a say in our plans… It’s an embarrassment. Their intellect is unreliable on both sides if the spectrum. Most of them are likely as dumb as their stinking rotmanes, and the most bright… a wizard. And who in their brightest of mind trusts a wizard? Only a fool, who can’t tell apart humans from elves, I say.

  Elves… the fiends. I won’t get into them today. That would require a separate entry. A very long, fistclench of an entry. Just thinking of them makes my teeth grind to dust.

  [Soulless Journal Entry #61 Y: 14?007]

  The plan worked, to my surprise, like a charm. I seem to have underestimated our allies. ’The little peas’ actually did what they said they would do. To me, this is a sign of an evolving race.

  Now that I brew my brain over it… if the goblins, with all their mayhem and madness, can find structure – are there more that can?

  As impressive as it is, I can only scratch my noggin at what they want. Sure as Hells ain’t peace with us.

  If I had one of those little snots secluded, I’d find their true motives.

  [Soulless Journal Entry #62 Y: 14?007]

  There’s no appeal to this city. I get that the boss wanted to show the humans what we orks are capable of… with ’the little pea’ helpers, sure.

  We won, yes, but for what? It’s cold as my rotting heart up here. I almost freeze through my thick layers of skin. Almost.

  The population, and I mean men, monsters, animals, demons, all of it; it’s at an all time lower than the great Crater of The Dark Realm. There’s good reason orks do not roam these parts any longer. Well, until now. Unfortunate. There must be some long term gain here. But what is it? ’Gorefail’ knows something, and I suspect that odd mountain has something to do with it.

  I want to quench my thirst for killing, but beyond Spirehaven… all seems dead already.

  Speaking of death; I have to prep my stick for the duel.

  [Soulless Journal Entry #69 Y 14?007]

  Today I have made a big choice, so feel honored to be out from your belt-pack, trusted journal.

  I have decided to head south. Willing to ask around to find a populated settlement. I see humans everywhere I go. Have to fight the urge to split their skulls.

  Surprisingly few orks where I’ve backtracked. How in Hells unholy hanged hedonists am I supposed to blend in anywhere?

  Might have to walk east soon, to avoid unnecessary attention, before my arrival. There I can knock on the gates of Ur Vharnek. Been decades since, but I should have friends there still…

  I’m thinking Hreq’Tor Glaiveknuckles. He probably still owes me, for some old-as-time thing. And I do need a reliable weapon, if I am to continue being my own boss.

  … Ur Vharnek it is.

  [2 – Waltz of the Miscalculated Ambush (or: How to Be Flung Like a Sack of Regret)]

  ”Who goes there!?”

  It was hard to see who the voice belonged to in the dark. The silhouettes of a group of men became visible through the fog of the early hours.

  This far from the very vein of Icevein Kingdom, there were merely patches of snow, without the ice. Green grass fluttered its tired straws in the sunlit spring. A fine odor of pine filled the nostrils.

  ”Who asks?” said Soulless, deliberately not loud enough, but enough to put regular men at unease. The question was, were these men regular?

  ”A big mother of a bastard,” came from someone leading the company.

  They all stepped through each respective foggy view, simultaneously.

  To his mild surprise, they did not run. Didn’t even take a step back. Instead, it seemed they had a plan in their sleeve for exactly this scenario, as they instinctively spread out, quickly had him surrounded.

  ”What’s this now?” Soulless asked curiously, anticipation rising with every beat. Counted eleven of them, he did.

  ”Why this is a good ol’ robbery, love!” said the leader, juggling two knives between his hands, sidestepping in the damp grass.

  Soulless turned his back to him, gauging the gang. Of course, he knew that would really piss off the leader, assuming that’s what he was. And, wouldn’t you know it, the man grunted and jumped for his exposed back.

  Everyone stood in disbelief, gawking, when their leader hung by the neck, smothered in the massive grip of the ork. He flailed like a child. In his breathless panic, he had dropped one of the knives to the ground – and it stuck, handle down, in the moist ground. The other blade was effortlessly plied away by the other big hand.

  ”Thank you, dummy. Poetic take small weapon first on way from old home,” said Soulless, at last revealing he knew the words of humans.

  ”It fucking talks!” two of the men in front said in unison.

  ”Bring the ork to his maker!” someone yelled from behind. ”Imagine the money he’s worth!”

  Soulless squeezed an even tighter grip and swung the body in a wide arc. Hard boots hit three bandits in the face, knocking them out cold. Another was hit in the chest and started wheezing for air.

  Three of the men sensed the great threat this big ork possessed and stayed back, avoiding any and all damage. When friends went down in the muck, one ran away, screaming.

  The three who remained unscathed came at him, all at once. ’Sword’, ’Chains’ and ’Brass Knuckles’.

  Soulless tossed the limp body from his hand over his shoulder.

  The leader’s stomach squelched on the wet soil, as irony hit – It was his own knife — the ’handle down’ one. A puff of air left his mouth.

  ’Chains’ wipped his metals around the right bicep of the ork. Soulless did not panic. Never did. Focused on ’Sword’ — Bad experience with swords lately.

  ’Sword’ rolled to the ork’s left side, dodging a deadly blow from his free hand.

  ’Chains’ steered the trapped arm towards the ground. ”Ha!”

  ’Brass Knuckles’ came with a hard left to the abdomen. ”Ouuw!” ’Brass Knuckles’ looked the opponent in the eye. No reaction.

  This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

  New weapon unlocked, thought Soulless, feeling that grim glee of his.

  ’Sword’ had reached the back of the ork. But as he was about to begin a flurry of strikes-

  Soulless had spun his arm and grabbed ’Chains’s’ weapon tight. He yanked at the chain, sending ’Chains’ speeding through his legs, sweeping ’Brass Knuckles’ with him.

  ’Sword’s’ weapon swooped up with a twang. It never swooped down.

  Soulless stood tall and faced ’Sword’, who laid face down, eating grass by that point, moaning and muttering curses. A leg was broken at the knee. Bent all the way - The wrong way.

  The two remaining bandits, youngest of the bunch, walked slowly backwards in the opposite direction.

  Soulless yanked his head aggressively at them, grinning.

  Their walk quickly turned into a sprint. Their screams were heard for minutes, as echoes haunted the rocky walls of a cave nearby.

  As Soulless checked out from the scene, it was clear the survivors would not make it home any time soon. ”Fair night, girls,” he said, and followed the screams, into rocky terrain.

  [3 – This Looks Safe, Let’s Go!]

  An old reptile witnessed the fight from afar. Hard to tell the age from a lizardkin, but he told Soulless, first hand, after waving him over — that he was old, that is. His actual age remained undisclosed.

  The lizard told of a place of regrets, of ruin and evil energy. He had walked across the world and ended up near the valley, and never understood why he lingered. Suspected it had to do with the dark nature of the area. It was dark all night, but also all day, which sparked his curiosity.

  Odilon was his name. Had eyes like black ink, and scales white as snow.

  When asked where exactly he was from, he hesitated to say, but agreed to tell his story, if Soulless agreed to hunt local wildlife with him. Deal done.

  A bunch of rabbits, a fox and a couple of snakes later, Odilon was so happy to have shared in the company of the ork. He was ready to share – A fire was made, and they sat opposite one another.

  ”I can sense your curiosssity,” said Odilon, forked tongue hissing away. ”You’re wondering why I even talk to you, you being such a big bad brutish fellow. And me, being myself of course.” Odilon coughed and scratched out an old bit of paper from his mouth. ”Oh, by the greats; ’Thisss’ and ’That’, I do lack the manners.” He continually stared down the paper as it fell to his feet. It was a swan, neatly folded.

  A lone brow dragged itself, at slug’s pace, toward Soulless’s hairline.

  Odilon’s whole body twitched. ”Ah! Yes yesss, I was trying, and failing to remember where I got that from. Damndest thingsss happening here, I’ll say. Memory tricksss, a mere small percentile of these… thingsss.”

  ”Where did you learn the ork tongue?” asked Soulless.

  ”Damndest… Are you sure I can trust you, to relay such information? Because I am not so sure, Soulless the ork.”

  ”You were within eyes reach of me and the eleven little piglets back there.” Soulless waved a hand without looking back.

  ”Sure wasssss,” said Odilon with a long hiss of his forked tongue.

  ”I could walk away from your little stories, right now. But, and this ’but’ is big, I want to know the answer. And I will have it.” The ork’s grin revealed the full size of his great tusks protruding from his jaw, as he blew out the snot clogging his airways.

  ”Intimidating,” said Odilon, not appearing the least bit intimidated. ”Well alright, I’ll tell. But don’t tell on me for telling you, ok?”

  Silence.

  ”Ok then. Hey, remember our hunt? That was-”

  ”Shut. It,” said Soulless, impatiently.

  ”Where I learned to speak ork? Ur Vharnek,” he said, like there were no buried secrets behind his black eyes. ”Where else? Don’t kill me!” Odilon laughed.

  ”Ah. Well, guess where I’m heading,” he said, and dropped the stone-cold-killer mask — Soulless’s go to mask of choice.

  Odilon , still twitching occasionally, sometimes glared at the paper swan.

  ”You’re quite odd, reptile,” said Soulless. ”I can relate. After weeks of traveling alone it’s apparent how much an ork stands out. I figure you may be in the same camp as me. Never saw your kin, this side of the planet anyway. Heard you guys keep to the dark spots, the sunless realm and the likes.” Soulless suddenly felt confused, and he paused for a while before resuming; ”This cave behind you, have you ventured inside?”

  Odilon nodded once, slowly. As he did so, he managed to stand still as a statue.

  ”Most odd.” Soulless took the nesseccary steps to observe the ledge, leading down the cave. ”What would I find down there?”

  Chills. They came uninvited, and only when looking into that blurred out underground hollow.

  ”Oh, err… ssss. Darkness and-”

  ”Thank you, I got that. What else? Why does it seem, you know, less than natural?” He turned to his new found fellow loner.

  ”Why do you assume I know that much?”

  ”Because you’re here for a reason. You see, I believe you crave this darkness. I believe you can’t leave, that you are bound to this cave, somehow.”

  ”It is no ordinary cave. It is a whole valley down there.”

  No secrets. He just blurted it out — But he did it when he felt like it.

  ”I have this gut feeling that you belong here.” He turned to the path again, getting some of those chills back, instantly. ”I think you suffer from wishful thinking. Again, I can relate.”

  ”How ssso?”

  ”I too wished to leave my home for a very long time,” he said, started walking, and didn’t look back. Soulless heard Odilon’s fading voice.

  ”They call it The Uncanny Valley. Ok, I’ve been there, but trust me, it’sss not sssomewhere you want to-!”

  In the end, it was like a door was shut between them.

  [4 - This Wasn't in the Brochure]

  It was like a room, an island or a distant mountain top. But the path was still the path.

  That voice of his cut abruptly, like my own attacks. He looked back up the path and peered over the ledge of the drop. There was no one there. Frowning, he kept going. He went on for a while, but felt a sense of what-in-the-creepshow place is this.

  ”Am I even moving!?” he said, feeling fear, for the first time since he decided to leave the former human capital. Behind him, a horizon, dimly lit. In front, the same. The ghosts of people he’d killed poked his thoughts, and the stuck were too many to count. ”Yes!? What!? What!? WHAT!?” he screamed in frustration. Right then, a figure appeared. It had legs, but the rest was hard to make out. The shape walked right past Soulless, who had his jaw on the ground – for the shape, it walked on the jagged wall to his left. It never looked at him. At least he thought so. ”Uuh…” Flabbergasted, he moved on, even more determined to find a bigger, better weapon. ”What in the three Hells.” He thought of the young men he scared off, wondering what became of them when the screaming stopped.

  Another shape came from further down. A shape of unknown race. The dark hood obscured the face. Hands shot out from the sleeves of the worn robe – Hands, too dirty to guess their skin color. With chackled ankles it walked by. Behind him, Soulless heard its alien language, made him strut to a light jog – for he got the feeling the thing turned back for him. Under his breath, he looked back. The way was clear. He turned again, facing down the path, wondering where the bright light came from. Was it not a cave?

  The rocky sides faded out and was replaced by lush fauna. Soulless didn’t recognize the view. Then it all narrowed, and he did not notice. Now the path widened yet again, and he knew – this place was not meant for visitors.

  More shapes moved about in the distance, seemingly without goal, as some went in circles, over and over and over.

  One of them held a small hammer, looked at it, as if trying to intimidate it – then it bashed itself in the face. It screamed and screamed once more. It screamed again, and it screamed a fourth time. The agony washed away from its face. The cycle then repeated.

  ”Is that…” Soulless had to see. He thought he recognized the shape, as he got closer, as one of the men who fled the massacre. But, as the man began to smash his own face, again, it quickly deterred him.

  Talking to Odilon was, maybe, not such a bad time, he thought.

  Soulless found he lifted his knees. Lifted? Down the path? That would indicate he went up. But… the setting was off, it felt like he was going down slope still. He tried standing still.

  This must be a magically infused area, or something. Maybe a wizard, controlling the whole valley? Or what was it he said back there? The… Uncanny Valley? Whatever the Hells, it feels significant – to someone, or some thing.

  A minute went by. A quiet, eerie minute.

  He just about took a step, to further explore fate, but was halted by a hand, reaching far to get to his shoulder.

  It was one of the terrified humans. With deathly still eyes, the person spoke words that the ork could not understand, hand still on Soulless’s shoulder, even as he had turned fast reacting to the touch. It was as if the man was attached – hovering.

  ”Enough!” Soulless tried in the human tongue. He slapped hard, in panic, at the man’s hand. The action sent him flying, tumbling into a thorned shrubbery.

  The young man got up without the least bit of concern to tend any potential wounds. His sight was dead set on the big warrior, who started to back away, dumbfounded by the resilience of the uncanny human.

  Nervously fingers grasped for the journal in his belt-pack. Therein lay a small piece of paper, outside of the journal. It was an intricately folded origami swan. Chills ran. He dropped it to the ground. No. It spread its wings. Impossible. It flapped and glowed a bright white.

  The dead-eyed man stretched his arms.

  Soulless froze.

  The man’s mouth gaped, and the swan flew inside. The mouth shut. Bared teeth revealed the light — before it died, and all that surrounded them grew dimmer.

  ”Oh, you are kidding. Wow,” said Soulless, awestruck.

  The husk spoke again. This time, Soulless understood every single word. ”Go back. Go back. Go back.”

  ”Hey man, this is all a bit… unreal. Could we just start over, perchance?” he said nervously, in ork tongue.

  ”Lizardman. Swan. Ork. Man. Man of the forest is coming. Listen. Listen or suffer. Gorvanis. Suffers.”

  ”Gorvanis?” Soulless was lost, guessing.

  ”He is a killer. The killer.”

  ”What does that have to do with-”

  The husk started to puke chunks of blood, with-

  ”Do not judge a paper swan by its ability to be broken and swallowed, ork,” the husk said.

  ”Paper…” whispered the ork, feeling maybe he should have stayed with his legion.

  Then, his eyed jolted twice more awake.

  The husk broke. Paper sawed its way through from the inside.

  Soulless ran backwards.

  Its arms dropped as the paper folded and cut them off.

  Soulless fell back in a puddle of something.

  Its head — exploded — and a dark red beak took its place. No eyes. No features. Just blood.

  Soulless ran, but got nowhere. He didn’t fall, but the ground seemed to follow his feet.

  The huge paper swan spread its wings.

  It pointed back up.

  Now Soulless could run. No one had to tell him twice.

  A voice echoed. Over and over.

  ”The world is not the same.”