The Heart of Vengeance

[TGRF]

Spoiler Alert!

Originally Posted by Marro_Warlord

That. *Sniff* That was wonderful. Poor Berog.

Shhh...
~TGRF.

[TGRF]

Chapter Three
Part Two

Spoiler Alert!

Ragnak landed on the hard-packed earth noiselessly, and immediately crouched in the shadows. One by one, more orcs dropped to his side as they scaled the wall, briefly visible against the cloudy moon as they crested its top, before dropping down the other side. Ragnak sniffed the air, taking in the cold, biting scent. The seasons of Grut took years to pass, but the long dry season was finally coming to an end. The air was growing colder.
Ragnak beckoned the five orcs accompanying him forward. They crept stealthily through the village, slipping behind houses, staying in the shadows. Most orcs were sleeping at this time of night, but guards could be seen every now and then, regularly pacing the streets or standing watch over certain houses.
Ragnak hated skulking in the shadows like this. He would have far preferred to enter the village with his army, kicking down the gate and demanding Drelach’s surrender. Unfortunately, his defeat and the fact that his army was scattered, watching over villages he had conquered, meant that gathering it would take some time. Meanwhile, Ragnak had a promise to uphold.
The moon slipped behind a cloud, its light momentarily leaving Drelach’s village. Ragnak took that as the queue to jump the nearest guard and drag him silently into the shadows. His orcs held the guard down as Ragnak knelt close to him, and whispered so that he would not be heard by the other guards.
“The orc with half an ear,” he hissed. “He has a scar running down his right arm. Where is he?” Kira had not been too stunned to prevent her taking in details of Berog’s attacker. She had described him quite well, as his image was now burned upon her mind.
The guard struggled for a moment, but a punch to the chest ceased his movements. “Melak,” he gasped. “His name is Melak. He’s Drelach’s son.”
Ragnak smiled. Drelach’s son? All the better. “Where is he?” he pressed.
The guard motioned feebly to the left. “He has his own house. Surrounded by guards. You’ll never get in.”
Ragnak considered him for a moment, and then grabbed his head. In one swift motion, the guard’s neck was snapped, and he was silent. “Find the house,” Ragnak ordered his orcs. They spread out as he dragged the guard’s limp body into the shadows. He would be found in the morning, when it was too late.
Almost instantly, one of the five orcs came back. Melak’s house was a mere thirty yards away, as it turned out, surrounded by guards, as the dead orc had said. Ragnak and his orcs crept silently towards it.
Felling the guards was easy. The moon was still behind the clouds, and under cover of the darkness, Ragnak’s orcs dropped them one by one, an arrow embedded in each of their heads. Once the guards were dead, Ragnak approached the door, unstrapping his axes from his back as he went.
He was prepared this time. Armor encased him from head to foot, even covering his mouth and nose. His new Heart was embedded deeply in the demon bone armor – it would not be parting from his company tonight.
Everyone in the house was sleeping. The first room Ragnak looked into was small. A boy, barely older than Kira, slept in a bed, peacefully oblivious to the six looming orcs watching him. At the thought of Kira, however, Ragnak turned away. He would not be the cause of that kind of pain, when he knew how it felt. He moved on to the next bedroom.
Here Melak lay, along with another orc Ragnak knew must be his wife. She too he would spare. His business was with Melak tonight, though if he came across Drelach unprepared, more than one life might be taken.
The six orcs slid silently into the dark room, and took up positions about the bed. Weapons were unsheathed. Eyes gleamed in the blackness. Ragnak looked down on the sleeping face of Melak, so peaceful, so at ease. At his expression, he suddenly felt a strange wave of longing. What he wouldn’t give to feel at peace himself, to not be haunted by his father and Grimnak every night…
At the thought of Grimnak, Ragnak tightened his hold on his weapons, so that his knuckles shone palest blue. Every night, he dreamed about slaying Grimnak over and over, only to wake and remember that he could not, not anymore. If he felt this way about Grimnak, then surely Kira felt the same way about Melak? Surely she wanted to have vengeance herself? She was young, yes, but there were some things that you understood regardless of age.
Ragnak held his hand out, signaling his orcs to stay their weapons. Slowly, carefully, with the utmost silence, he raised his own two axes, and positioned them both between the two sleeping orcs below him.
It was over in one swift motion. The flats of the blades struck their heads, and the orcs slept on, their expressions only slightly ruffled. Ragnak heaved Melak onto his back, and signaled his orcs to exit in front of him. They filed silently to the door.
There, however, their luck changed. No sooner had the first orc exited the house than a guard saw him and raised the alarm. An arrow sprouted from his head a moment later, but it was too late: guards were rushing in from every part of the village.
“Run!” bellowed Ragnak. His orcs did not need to be told twice.
Halfway to the gate the guards caught up with them. They were armed, not with skulls as the invaders had been, but with long swords that they put to use against Ragnak’s orcs. However, Ragnak having access to at least five demon skeletons, his orcs were better armed than most.
The clash of arms quickly raised the rest of the village. Flames sprang to life as torches were lit, metal scraped against stone as weapons were drawn, and raptors shrieked in their stalls at the noise.
One of Ragnak’s orcs fell. They made it to the gate, battling the guards furiously. Ragnak kicked the gates open, supplied with strength by his glowing demon Heart, and led the retreat out into the night. He dropped to the ground, allowing his orcs to run past him, and then sprang up before the host of guards, slaying them without mercy, impervious to their blows, giving his orcs time to escape. The guards were many, however, and simply kept coming.
Knowing that he would eventually be overwhelmed by sheer weight of numbers, Ragnak quickly followed his orcs to a small dip in the ground where their mounts, six sleek brown swogs, crouched, ears flattened at the noise. The giant cats hissed as the guards approached, and they wisely fell back; a swog’s claws were weapons to be taken seriously.
Just as it seemed that they would make a clean escape, a monstrous orc burst from the village. He wore no armor, and bore naught but a sword, but the demon Heart lashed to his chest gave him away. Ragnak knew that he would pursue them all the way back to his village if necessary, unless he could be stopped.
Ragnak grabbed an arrow from one of his orcs and dipped it in the flaming tar of a nearby guard’s torch. The arrow caught instantly. Raising himself up in the saddle, he launched the arrow at Drelach. It wouldn’t kill him. But it would come very close.
The arrow found its mark just as Ragnak and his orcs bent low to their swogs, racing away into the night, their unconscious prize slung across the back of the sixth swog. Drelach stopped as the arrow sank into his head. He dropped to one knee as his Heart exploded, frantically healing the deadly injury. It was at that point that the fire from the arrow spread to his skin, and he burst into flames. Screaming in agony, stumbling about blindly, and yet unable to die, Drelach’s cries of revenge chased Ragnak away, pursuing him through the shadows.
Ragnak smiled as Drelach’s shouts reached his ears, and he looked across to where Melak lay, unconscious. Kira would have her revenge.

~TGRF.

[TheAverageFan]

Ooh, sneak attack! Now things are getting more interesting...

~TAF

[William099]

I think Ragnak may find that his daughter is not quite on the same page as him in the value of revenge!

[TGRF]

Chapter Four
Anger of the Heart (Part One)

Spoiler Alert!

Grut, ninth year of the Third Age

There were almost no free villages on Grut. Nearly all of them were ruthlessly ruled over by some mighty orc, a champion of some powerful village. These champions were forever in fierce contention with each other, as their borders expanded beyond their control.
Of the champions, only a few were deadly warriors. Most had attained their position by poisoning their rivals from the shadows, and then stepping in to take their place. Of those that were true champions, only about half inspired terror throughout Grut. Ragnak was one of these champions. Drelach, the champion whose borders were closest to his, was another. They both possessed a demon Heart, and they both refrained from leading a full-scale assault on the other, for neither could die.
Of those champions that were feared throughout the land, like Ragnak and Drelach, there were but three that had attained a truly massive amount of power. Those three were Nerak, Ornak, and Tornak.
Nerak lived in the far North, where the clouds of burning ash from the volcanoes could not reach, and snow fell upon the mountains. His refuge was a massive fortress, half imbedded in a mountainside, from which his deadly swogs would issue and tear any advancing army to shreds.
Ornak’s realm was below that of Nerak. He had slain twenty demons, and the resulting supply of Hearts had somehow crazed his mind with dark magic, making him volatile and likely to attack any orc who came near him. No army even thought to challenge him.
The third champion, Tornak, lived in the West. He had built a massive city – the largest ever to be seen on Grut – in the sheer walls of a canyon. This canyon was no demon made crevice. It was miles deep, the river that had been formed by it rushing through with great speed. It provided an unlimited supply of water for the city, something without which Tornak and his orcs would have long since died out.
Tornak employed the use of raptors and other ’saurs to defeat his enemies. His army was skilled, well-equipped, and well-provisioned. He was not as powerful as Nerak or Ornak, and relied on strategy rather than force to win his battles. His city was rich with the accumulated wealth of all the villages he had conquered, and its fortifications were nearly impregnable.
It was understandable, therefore, that Tornak was surprised when he received word of an approaching army, bent on his destruction.

Tornak continued to stare at the scout, unable to believe his ears. “He’s attacking?” he repeated. “He’s actually attacking us?”
The scout nodded. “They’ll be here by nightfall, sire.”
Tornak glanced out the stone-rimmed window. Dusk was already falling. “And you’re sure it’s him?” he asked.
The scout nodded again. “I got a good look at him. The Heart in his armor burns with a fel light, its magic supplying him with otherworldly strength. He will not let up, and rests only so that his army does not die of exhaustion.”
Tornak pondered the sky. It would be dark within the hour. The attack made no sense. It was a bold move, yes; the army posed a large threat to Tornak’s city. But it was foolish, so foolish… the least experienced commander could see that.
Tornak knew who led the army, he knew that Ragnak was marching to attack him. But why would Ragnak leave his own village undefended? It would take at least a week for him to return: plenty of time for any passing orc to invade and leave the village in ruins. It was an obvious mistake, too obvious, in fact. Tornak did not believe for a moment that Ragnak had simply overlooked it. What then was his plan? Why would there be such an obvious flaw in his attack? It was foolhardy to say the least. Such a mistake could very easily cost Ragnak what power he had.
“Prepare the defenses,” said Tornak, turning back to the scout. “I want the second and third squads of raptors saddled and ready in twenty minutes.”
The scout nodded once and was gone.
Tornak turned back to the window. “What is your plan, Ragnak?” he whispered to the gathering darkness. “What do you mean by attacking me in such a way? What would cause you to do this, to overlook such a mistake?”

Grut, one month previously

Ragnak rolled, keeping his balance centered so that he wouldn’t shift direction. He came up on his feet directly in front of a surprised orc, whom he promptly beheaded. A quick jab with his other axe dispatched an orc behind him. No champion would claim his village.
Ragnak had been so busy defending his lands against Drelach that he had left his own village undefended one too many times. Now a truly powerful orc, Tornak by name, had launched an assault. His goal, Ragnak was sure, was to collect his store of demon Hearts and thus secure even more power for himself.
It was lucky that Ragnak had been so close by. He had been returning from a nearby village with a sizeable army when word had reached him of Tornak’s attack. Now his village was the scene of a full-scale attack as the two armies clashed, battering each other to bits.
Wherever Ragnak went, Tornak’s orcs fell. However, it was not a mindless swath of destruction that he cut. Ragnak was carving a path straight to his home, straight to his family. It was them that he would defend.
Ragnak’s mind, once keen and discerning, had been reduced to a haze of red, filled with constant pain. Ragnak had once thought, what seemed like decades ago, that by killing Grimnak he would have peace. He had thought that if he could avenge his father, he would be able to accept his loss and move on. He had been wrong.
Despite Grimnak’s death, his father still haunted him. He was joined every night by Grimnak, jeering and laughing, and now Drelach, dooming Ragnak as blue blood dripped from the skulls strapped to his arms. The nightmares caused him to wake, shivering in the darkness. Aderra did her best to soothe him, but sleep seemed to flee Ragnak as quickly as his enemies fled his blade. If it weren’t for the demon Heart, which continued to pour strength into him, Ragnak would have long since collapsed out of sheer exhaustion.
Ragnak cut down another orc foolish enough to get in his way. Tornak’s army was losing ground rapidly, but they were taking many orcs with them. Already the streets were flowing with blue orc blood, hacked corpses choking its passage. Ragnak slew a last orc and bound to his front door. All was silent inside.
“Aderra?” he called, and he was surprised to hear that his voice was rough, as if it too was filled with blood. “Kira?” Silence greeted him.
He rushed inside, his weapons raised, ready for any foe. What he was not ready for was the thick trail of blood smeared across the floor that met his eyes. It led from the door, weaving back and forth, and turned into a side room. Ragnak followed it, gripping his axes tighter, fearing what he might find.
The room was in shadow. Ragnak could just make out a dark form in one corner, a tangled mass that seemed to have no shape. The trail of blood led to it, and Ragnak followed, his fear mounting. Not fear for himself, but what he might see, what might meet his eyes at any moment. If it was Aderra that he now approached, or Kira, grievously injured… Ragnak tore the Heart from his armor, clutching it tightly, prepared to use it on his family, to heal them, to keep them with him…
The light from the Heart spread across the shape before him, and Ragnak gasped. It was not Aderra, nor Kira. The tangled shape was Tornak.
“You!” Ragnak thundered, lunging forwards. He now saw that Tornak had been bent over where he kept his remaining demon Hearts, doubtless about to extract them from where they lay. Fortunately, Tornak had not collected any yet, and Ragnak leapt after him as he bolted for the door, axes whistling through the air.
Ragnak had nearly reached Tornak when they hurtled out of the house. The brightness of the day struck Ragnak’s eyes, temporarily blinding him. He staggered to a halt, searching fruitlessly for Tornak through the rays of the sun. It was at that moment that Tornak spoke, his voice guttural, commanding. “Tera!”
Ragnak did not know what the word meant. A moment later, however, a vast shape blocked out the sun, and Ragnak ducked as Tornak’s raptor leapt at him from nowhere. He tripped and fell over backwards. The demon Heart which he still clutched in his hand slipped from his grasp and skittered into the shadows beneath the house. Ragnak raised his axes to ward off the raptor, but his weapons were batted aside. A single clawed foot rose momentarily into the air, Ragnak tried to roll out of the way, and then felt a terrible pain on his face as the foot descended, leaving three bloody slices in his head.
Blood immediately filled Ragnak’s eyes. Through the blue haze he saw Tornak leap atop the raptor and turn away, yelling for his soldiers to retreat. Then the pain blotted out his vision entirely.
Ragnak struggled to remain conscious. He knew the wounds were too deep, that he was losing blood too fast. There was only one thing that could save him, and it was mere feet away, glowing faintly in the bright light of the sun, half hidden in the shadows.
Ragnak crawled forward, his fingers slipping on the blood-sodden ground. The pain in his head threatened to overwhelm him. Blackness gathered in the back of his mind, beckoning him to join it, to release himself, to give in to the pain…
Pain shot through Ragnak’s entire body as his fingers closed on something small, wet, hard, and warm. It beat irregularly with a life of its own, its magic pulsing through his veins. The glow of the Heart penetrated even through the darkness in his mind, shoving it aside with ease, forcing his eyes open, returning him to full consciousness. For a moment, the pain in his head intensified, and then it ceased, as abruptly as if a nerve had been severed. The blood ran cleanly off of Ragnak’s face, out of his eyes, and he leapt to his feet, full of renewed energy, ready to fight, ready to kill… But Tornak and his army were already gone, the dust left by their retreat the only sign that they had been there.
Ragnak staggered slightly. His Heart was still trying to heal his head, even though the pain had stopped. That was odd. The pain never stopped until the wound was healed. What was the Heart doing, then?
Ragnak lifted a hand and felt his head. The dark magic felt warm on his arm as his fingers traced the outline of three long, jagged scars running from his forehead to his cheek. The brief moment in which he had not had the Heart had done enough damage to never be healed fully. Fortunately, the raptor’s talons had missed his eye, but Ragnak could tell that some of the muscles controlling his mouth had been severed. The right side felt oddly slack.
Ragnak rushed back inside his house and back into the room, where he quickly counted his Hearts. Tornak had taken none. Relief flooded him briefly before being washed away by trepidation. Where, then, had the blood come from? It was still smeared along the floor, running, Ragnak now saw, to another dark corner of the room.
Ragnak looked towards the corner. A small figure was huddled there, completely silent and very still… too still.
Not Kira… no, please not Kira, not my daughter… But it was Kira. However, she seemed uninjured. She looked up as Ragnak approached, tears glistening on her young face. And only then did Ragnak see what lay in the corner before her, in a pool of blood, motionless and dead: Aderra.

Spoiler Alert!

Dear me, they do seem to be dropping like flies, don't they?

~TGRF.

[TheAverageFan]

I wonder what happened to that Melak guy...

[William099]

Oof... that's cursed bad luck! Ragnak should just not leave town ever!

[TGRF]

Originally Posted by TheAverageFan

I wonder what happened to that Melak guy...

All in good time my friend, all in good time...
~TGRF.

[TGRF]

I seem to be falling behind in the update department. This fiction should be finished by May 2. If it isn't, feel free to leave a comment prodding me back into action.
On that note, I give you the rest of chapter four.
Chapter Four
Anger of the Heart (Part Two)

Spoiler Alert!

Grut, ninth year of the Third Age

“Charge!” Ragnak thundered, drawing his twin axes. The swog beneath him moved fluidly, its powerful muscles pushing away from the ground as it leapt forwards with ever-lengthening strides.
The orcs behind Ragnak drew their own weapons, a good number of them the bones of slain demons, and let loose a terrible war cry to the heavens that tore the night in two. Their challenge was answered by a mass far before them: Tornak’s warriors, mounted on raptors and ready for the fight.
All sound seemed to fade for Ragnak. Only the thundering of the two forces rushing to meet each other rumbled in his ears; all else was forgotten. This was the night Aderra would be avenged. Tonight, finally, he would have peace, true peace. Tonight, Tornak would be slain.
Though the swog beneath him quickened its pace, and though the raptors before them charged forward with the lust of battle, time seemed to suddenly slow down for Ragnak. He watched as the two armies drew closer, and closer, their weapons drawn, their mouths locked in a terrible scream, their faces pictures of ferocity. So this is how peace is achieved, Ragnak thought. The idea seemed wrong to him, insane, as if it didn’t belong. And then the armies clashed.
Sound suddenly returned with a clash of arms. Arrows flew through the sky overhead. Orcs fell. Screams rent the air. Flames burst into existence. The raptors screamed and slashed their enemies. The swogs hissed and rent their foes with long claws. Orcs slammed into each other, tearing into flesh with their blades, knocking aside swords, killing without discretion. The sky and ground faded together, both stained with the blood of the battle. All was chaos.
Ragnak ripped through the orcs before him. Tornak had not won by being at the front of every battle, where he was an easy target. He had won by remaining in the back, cowardly issuing orders to those under him. It was him that Ragnak had come to slay. Tonight was the night that he would pay for his murder of Aderra.
Ragnak broke free of the ranks. He was now behind the enemy line, between the battling armies and Tornak’s vast city. However, between him and the city was another army, a second legion of Tornak’s raptors. They were waiting for the first wave to weaken Ragnak’s army before rushing in and finishing them. And standing at their head, mounted proudly on his armored raptor, was Tornak, nothing but shock registering on his face at the sight of Ragnak.
Without a second’s hesitation, Ragnak turned his swog straight towards the second army and charged. That was where Tornak was. That was his goal. Arrows thudded against his armor, but they bounced off harmlessly. Even those that were tipped with fire were quenched by the Heart.
Ranks poured in front of Tornak, charging Ragnak down. The spears and swords ripped through his swog with ease, but they slithered off of his armor and weapons like water, unable to penetrate it. Even those that found his unprotected arms barely left gashes before they were turned aside by the magic of the Heart, the wounds instantly healed.
Ragnak leapt off of his swog as the beast fell to the ground, pierced by a hundred weapons. He kicked one orc to the ground and dispatched him, slew another with a quick jab of his axe, and marched onwards, not caring how many orcs attacked him. There was only one that he sought tonight, and no amount of soldiers would stop him.

For the first time in twenty years, Tornak’s orcs faltered. Those that had not gone to slay Ragnak backed away, half turning towards the city. Tornak could not blame them. Ragnak was carving a path through at least a hundred orcs as though they weren’t even there.
He’s coming for me, Tornak realized with a jolt of fear. He’s coming for me, and nothing is going to stop him. One of us is going to kill the other. Tornak’s grip tightened on his sword. He had a family that loved him. He had a village that looked up to him. He would defend them at any cost. He could not ask his rapidly dwindling army to defend him, not when their efforts were so clearly useless. No, it would fall to him to meet Ragnak, to fight this final battle.
Tornak unslung his shield from his back. “Ready yourself, Tera,” he whispered to his raptor. “Our enemy fast approaches.”

With a mighty bellow, Ragnak slew the final orc and charged ahead, paying no heed to the mountainous pile of corpses that he had left behind him. His arms had been slashed so many times that they appeared to be encased in dark magic, and his head was so wreathed in it that he saw Tornak through a haze of dark red.
“Your time has come, Tornak!” he yelled as he ran, his axes weighted down with blood. “You slew Aderra! You took her from my life! Now I shall take yours, in payment! Prepare to taste my vengeance!”
The next thing Ragnak knew, something very strong had struck him in his armor and he had been flung to the ground. The raptor raised a leg, preparing for another strike.
Ragnak rolled, avoiding the blow, but Tornak bent down and swung at him with his sword. That proved to be a mistake.
Ragnak grasped the sword, heedless of the pain that was quickly healed, and yanked Tornak out of the saddle and onto the ground. He stamped on his face, keeping him temporarily down, and then swung his axe at the raptor.
The demon bone found its mark. It lodged in the ’saur’s neck. The raptor let loose an earsplitting screech, but a quick blow to the head from the other axe silenced it, and it fell to the ground, lifeless.
“No!” Tornak screamed, leaping to his feet. He swung his sword at Ragnak, who ignored it and allowed it to bounce off of his armor. Instead, he swung his axe at Tornak’s arm, quickly breaking it.
Tornak staggered backwards, the sword falling from his limp grasp. “No,” he repeated, his eyes wide. He knew the end was near. Ragnak advanced on him, his face a mask of fury and pain.
A kick to the stomach was sufficient to make Tornak fall to the ground. Another strike of the axe, and his other arm was broken, the shield useless. Ragnak knelt on him, keeping him in place, and looked into his beaten face.
For a long time, neither of them spoke. They both knew how it would end. Ragnak considered Tornak. Not that many years ago, he had similarly looked down on another orc, another victim of the power of his Heart. Grimnak had taken his father, and Ragnak had killed him. But he did not have peace. The pain of his father’s death had not left him.
Before him lay Tornak. He had taken Aderra. Would the pain of that loss stay with him as well? Would he be tortured by her death also?
Ragnak moved his axes carefully, deciding where to strike. He would have his revenge, and he would have peace. He would strike down Tornak now, concentrating all his pain at Aderra’s death into the single blow. And then, and only then, would his heart be at rest.
“You haven’t won.”
Ragnak glanced back at Tornak’s face. It wasn’t frightened now. It was calm. Tornak knew what was coming, knew that he could do nothing to stop it, and had accepted it. “You haven’t won,” he repeated. “You’ll never win as long as you carry that Heart.”
Ragnak considered him for a moment. “It is the Heart that has slain you,” he said quietly. “It is the Heart that will give me peace. It is the Heart that has given me revenge.”
He raised his axes on high. “For Aderra!” he bellowed to the heavens. And then the axes descended in a spray of blood.

Aderra… Aderra… The single word seemed to repeat over and over in Ragnak’s mind as he looked down on the mangled body of Tornak. He felt no different. The pain was still there. The memory was still there. He could still see Aderra’s lifeless body huddled in the corner, Kira crying over it, and he felt a wave of anger, of hate.
He drove his axe into Tornak’s lifeless body, snapping its bones in two. Still the vision swam before his eyes. He sunk his axe to the hilt in Tornak’s flesh, but still Aderra was before him, her blood pooling on the ground, Kira’s sobs filling the silence…
“Nooo!” bellowed Ragnak. Again and again he sank his axe into Tornak, but the pain only increased. Now Aderra stood before him, her eyes reproachful. “Avenge me, Ragnak,” she said, over and over. “Avenge me.”
“I have!” thundered Ragnak. “I have. I have slain Tornak!” His father joined Aderra, the same request upon his lips. “I slew them both! They’re dead, dead by my hand! Why do you still haunt me? Why do you rob me of peace? What must I do?”
Still the words echoed: Avenge me… Avenge me… Avenge me… Ragnak fell to the ground, burying his face against it, trying to block out the visions, but they persisted in his mind.
He had had his revenge upon Grimnak. He had had his revenge upon Tornak. And still, peace was not his.
What must I do?

~TGRF.

[TGRF]

Chapter Five
Death of the Enemy (Part One)

Spoiler Alert!

Grut, seventeenth year of the Third Age

Without sleep, the body begins to weaken. Without sleep, fatigue grows like a burden, weighing its victim down until he can barely move. Without sleep, the mind begins to fade, slipping in and out of consciousness, but never truly entering the velvety blackness of peace. Without sleep, one would slowly waste away until he died of sheer exhaustion.
Such was not the case with Ragnak. Though he lay down every night, he feared the darkness that gathered at the edges of his vision. He feared the nightmares that waited to engulf him, full of pointing fingers and unanswered debts. And if he did finally slip from wakefulness, he awoke soon after, shaking and shivering uncontrollably, his mind tortured by those he had avenged.
There is a way to have peace, he thought to himself over and over. He was determined to find it. Even if it took a hundred years, he would find it. There must be a way. There must be. But what that way was remained hidden from him. His life had been torn asunder, filling him with pain. First Grimnak, and then Tornak had taken those he loved from him. He had responded in kind, and though the thirst for revenge had been slacked, the pain remained, consuming him from the inside. There was no resolution, no fitting end, no final peace. There was only the pain of his loss, a pain he could not dispel.
As the years crept by, Ragnak fell into an endless spiral of battles, each deepening his pain more and more as those he knew and loved were taken from him. He saw everything through a haze now, a haze that was growing steadily thicker as the crushing weight of loss bore down upon him, threatening to smother him beneath it…

Kira laughed. She whipped around the corner and then stumbled back as Terog appeared before her. She turned and took off in a different direction, Terog in hot pursuit.
The two orcs chased each other around the village, ducking, swerving, and laughing the whole time. They were joined by other young orcs who sprinted between the houses in an attempt to catch each other. A ’saur hide ball was found, and immediately the orcs were tumbling through the dust, each trying to grab it, rolling over each other as they scrambled forwards.
Ragnak sat in front of his home and watched them. Normally young orcs had no time for play. But Ragnak had ensured that his village would never be attacked while he remained in it, ready to lift an axe against any foe.
Kira scrambled free of the pile of orcs, clutching the ball tightly. Shrieking with laughter as the others chased after her, she took off between the houses, dodging their tackles and leaping over their grasping arms.
Ragnak watched her go. No smile lit his face. He sat, hunch-shouldered and still, half concealed in the shadows. There had been a time when Kira could comfort him, lift him from the pit of pain that now held him firm in its grasp. But that had been many years ago. That had been when Aderra was alive, with him, her presence calming his mind. That time had passed.
Kira, now relieved of the ball, raced to where Ragnak sat and stood before him, catching her breath. “Come play, father,” she said, tugging on his unresponsive arm. “Come and have some fun.”
Ragnak shook his head. “You play, Kira,” he whispered. “I enjoy watching you smile.”
It was true. Ragnak’s spirits couldn’t help but lift slightly as Kira rejoined her companions to scramble after the ball. But they could never remain up for long. It wasn’t that Ragnak did not want to have fun, or that he did not want to play; it was that fun had fled from his life. He had been leeched of happiness until only sorrow remained. He would give nearly anything for a moment of untroubled joy. Unfortunately, for Ragnak, such moments were a thing of the past.
Ragnak knew that something was wrong. Revenge was nothing new on Grut. It happened every day. And yet, none of the orcs who carried it out had sunk into a pit of pain like Ragnak had. They had grieved, yes, but they had returned to their lives. Ragnak had tried forgetting his loss, tried ignoring the nightmares, even tried returning to his every day hunting and acting like nothing had happened, but none of it had worked. Always the pain followed him, unrelenting. There was something he had missed, something he had done wrong.
The only thing that kept Ragnak from furiously trying to dig himself out of his plight all day long was Drelach. The orc had killed his own share of demons, and by now had a good supply of Hearts. Both he and Ragnak regularly carried out half-hearted raids on each other, but neither relished the idea of meeting on the field of battle. It would be a fight to the death, and when both of the combatants are unkillable, a fight to the death can take a very, very long time.
There would be no peace between their domains, however. Drelach had invaded Ragnak’s village. He had attacked his people. He had killed those he protected. He had even struck close to his family, killing Berog. Ragnak grinned to himself. He had gotten Drelach back for that. And then it hit him.
Ragnak sat bolt upright. “Kira!” he called, and she seemed to materialize before him instantly.
“Kira,” Ragnak repeated. “When Berog was killed, I ventured into Drelach’s village to find his murderer and bring him back.”
Kira’s expression fell at Berog’s name. She had been but four when he had died, but even now, ten years later, she still missed him.
Ragnak went on. “I found him. He was Melak, the son of Drelach. I captured him. I brought him back here. I gave him to you, telling you to punish him as you saw fit for what he had done.”
Kira nodded. It was true. Ragnak had commissioned two large orcs to guard Melak, but it had been Kira who had decided his fate.
Ragnak took a deep breath. Could this be the moment? Could he be about to hear the answer? Kira had suffered the same loss, experienced the same pain. And yet she was happy. How? What had she done different? He had never bothered to find out…
“What did you do with him, Kira? How did you punish Melak?”
Kira looked up at him. “I forgave him, father.”
Ragnak blinked. She had spoken as if this were the most obvious fact in the world.
“I let him go,” said Kira, merely looking politely confused.
“You — I — You let him go?” Ragnak repeated.
“Yes,” said Kira. “I let him go.”
Now Ragnak understood why Drelach had not attempted to get his son back: he had come back on his own. He contemplated Kira. She smiled hopefully at him. How could she be happy, knowing that Berog’s killer still walked free?
“But, Kira,” said Ragnak, “do you not hate him? Do you not seek his destruction? He slew your friend, your protector. Should not he be slain in turn?”
Kira’s eyes widened in horror. She looked as if she had never heard of such a gruesome concept. “Oh, no, father. I could never do that. Why would I? That would just double my pain, bring it to someone else as well. I don’t want to make more misery, father. I wanted to heal the misery that was already there. He was sorry for what he had done. I forgave him. I am sad that he slew Berog, yes, but I cannot hold a grudge forever. It would consume me. I could never live with that darkness inside of me. Never.”
“But how can you forgive him?” pressed Ragnak. “He shattered your life. How can you forgive him when he killed Berog?”
Kira was silent for a moment. Ragnak could tell she was thinking, trying to put her reasoning into words. After a time she looked up at him.
“I could forgive him,” she said slowly, “because it’s not about me. It’s not about what will make me happy, or what will satisfy me. If I can make others happy through my actions, isn’t that a far better reward than making myself happy at their expense?”
The magic of Ragnak’s Heart flickered inside of him at her words. He felt its familiar touch, pressing him to action, giving him the strength to do whatever was needed, and an inkling of the truth dawned on him. The thought did not last however. Everything suddenly changed with the swiftness of a death-stroke.
Where there had been happiness and fun a moment before, there was suddenly chaos. Where orcs had walked calmly, there were suddenly burned corpses. Where rows of comfortable houses had sat, there were flames and blackened remains. It took Ragnak a moment to figure out what had happened. Half the village seemed to have exploded for no reason.
Kira screamed and ran into the house, cowering in the shadows. Ragnak leapt up, his thoughts thrust aside as the demon Heart took over, feeding magic into his blood, strengthening his muscles and sharpening his mind. He grasped his two axes from where they had lain against the side of the house.
A monstrous shadow fell over the village. The flames seemed to burn brighter and higher in the darkness. Ragnak looked up, but did not comprehend what he saw. Nothing could be that big…
Scales as long as an orc was tall. Armor as thick as three orcs side by side. A mouth able to engulf twenty houses. Flames spilling from the maw hotter than lava. Leathery wings that blocked out the sun and flattened homes in their wake. A hide the color of sun baked rock in the dry season. Levach. Dragon.
“RUN!” bellowed Ragnak to anyone who could hear him. His order was unnecessary. Orcs were already running in every direction, bumping into each other, crying out in panic. There was a time to fight and a time to flee. This was one of the latter.
“HALT!” thundered a voice from overhead.
Ragnak looked up. For one impossible moment he thought the Levach had spoken. And then he recognized the voice, and saw the miniscule figure atop its back.
“Halt!” bellowed Drelach again, his face a picture of demonic glee at the terror he had inspired. “I mean you no harm!”
Ragnak found this hard to believe, given that half the village was in flames.
“There is only one thing I seek,” said Drelach. “There is only one orc that need fear me.” The Levach tilted to the right, and in that moment, Ragnak knew what was coming.
The jaws opened wide. Orange light spilled from them. Drawing his blades, Drelach leapt from the back of the Levach, landing in the doorway of Ragnak’s home.
“KIRA!” bellowed Ragnak, but it was too late: Drelach plunged into the shadowy house. As Ragnak made to follow, flames boiled up from the Levach’s stomach, burst from its maw, and consumed him in an inferno of pain. The force of the blast knocked him back to the ground, fire searing his skin.
His Heart exploded, magic dueling fire, death fighting life. His skin burned, then healed, then burned again. Which would give up in the end?
Everything was orange and red about Ragnak. He could see nothing but fire, hear nothing but fire, smell nothing but fire… surely the world was burning with him at its center, surely this was the final torture, surely no magic could keep him alive this long, surely the blackness approaching was the final darkness, the cold embrace of death, of true peace…

“KIRA!”
The terrible cry ripped through Ragnak, tearing him from sleep, from his ever persistent nightmares. Pain racked his body, but he ignored it. Ashes buried him, but he burst through them as though they weren’t there. Smoke choked him, but he no longer needed air to survive; the small red Heart bound to his chest was his life now.
He hurtled through the gray stillness, stumbling blindly in the dark until he found it… his home, his blackened house. He rushed through the door and by the rooms, all clogged with smoke so thick he could barely see through it. “Kira!” he shouted. “Kira, come to me!”
But no answering cry met him, no blackened figure burst from the rooms to greet him. The Levach, Kira, Drelach… they were all gone, leaving ruin and destruction in their wake.
Ragnak was finally forced to accept that she was gone, taken by Drelach. He sank to his knees in the ruined house, sinking through a foot of ash. His burnt skin cracked painfully, but he didn’t care. He was beyond all but the simplest emotions now.
His father had been taken by Grimnak. His wife had been taken by Tornak. And now his daughter, the last ray of hope and light in his life, had been taken by Drelach. His life had been shattered too many times to ever be repaired again. He would die, alone, darkened, in a world full of hate and suffering. There was but one final deed to be done.

The final part will be coming on 1st!
~TGRF.

[TheAverageFan]

Ragnak will be bored once he's out of family and friends to avenge. Of course, the final part is next so I doubt we'll get to that point. Looking forward to the climax.

~TAF

[TGRF]

Originally Posted by TheAverageFan

Ragnak will be bored once he's out of family and friends to avenge. Of course, the final part is next so I doubt we'll get to that point. Looking forward to the climax.

~TAF

Yep, the climax is coming soon. I personally think it is the best climax I have ever written, so get ready!
~TGRF.