The Ruins

Gnork

Gnork grunted at his minions. He raised his head and bellowed “Where’s the food? I need more!” His ugly wrinkled face was covered in grease, dirt and the blood from his last meal. His nostrils flared as slobber dripped from his chin. His nose was more like that of a numbat. Mucous slid down his face as well, and collided with his other blemishes. He stomped his feet and yelled at them some more. Sitting on his throne of rocks, surrounded by bones and rotting flesh. He was on his throne, in their cave dwelling.

Some of the Zomborcs were in a transition phase. As they grew, the Orc blood in their veins burned their insides. They screamed in agony as they writhed and wriggled from their inner torment. Being born half dead made them numb to everything except for the blood thirst. Being half Orc, they craved it more. They became vicious and unpredictable. They were partially undead humanoid figures with Orc features. One screamed more than the rest. Naked and in the corner of their cage. His small frame was unnatural, pale with huge eyes and arms.

Gnork had them locked in a cell. He wanted them hungry and crazed for his attacks on the humans. The humans were always digging up the ground and destroying their cover. They moved the rocks and built their home around the water and let their animals roam freely. The Orcs hated sunlight. They wanted the livestock for themselves. The Zomborcs didn’t care what they ate, as long as it had blood. Gnork was building an empire. He wanted to be king and own everything. He killed anyone that didn’t obey. He didn’t care what species they were. “Bring me some sloop, slave!” He ordered one of the prisoners. She was a human woman, about thirty years of age. She had brown hair and green eyes. She wasn’t the most attractive, but she had a good heart.

“Right away,” she whispered with her eyes to the earth. She slid away from him with her chains scraping the ground. There was a cavern inside of the cave where the Orcs had a watering hole. They had taken barrels of ale from the villages. They refilled the barrels with drained blood mixed with alcohol and salt rocks. She scooped some up in a makeshift wooden mug and took it to him. She stifled her tears and her vomit as she handed it to him, careful to not touch his grotesque hands.

Gnork yanked her chains to make her curtsey. “Show some respect!” He demanded. “I am your king and ruler now. You will do as I say happily.” He snorted up some snot and spit on her. “Now get back Wench!”

She whimpered in disgust, as she moved as far away from him as her chains would allow. She silently offered a prayer in her head with her eyes closed, yet tilted her head toward heaven.

“There is no one to save you.” He snarled shaking his bulbous head. Gnork laughed at her, and her beliefs in a higher power. She simply shrugged and said nothing. The Orcs in the cave brushed past her, smelling her. She shivered. She was scared, but she stood still.

Gnork threw his mug at them. “Get back!” He growled. The mug hit the wall with a thud, then bounced twice on the floor from the force of it. “She’s mine.”

KRAG

Krag led his men through the brush and tall weeds. They found some squirrels and weed rats to eat. It was easy. Step on their tails and slit their throats as they try to attack. The corn fields had been leveled down but the husks remained for the critters. The men tied them to their belt straps. They could cook them on sticks as they came to the village fires. Occasionally there would even be a snake waiting for them. They filled their waterskins, made from snake skin, from the wells as they passed.

The Orcs knew nothing of herbs or roots. They left all of that stuff in the ground. There were potatoes, carrots and turnip roots to be eaten as well. They didn’t starve. They weren’t that bad off. There were many villages. Krag led them through them all, as he gathered more men for his army. They left some of the food for regrowth, and to feed the villagers that had survived the attacks. They build a sled of sorts to carry the food and supplies.

The people that were left were reluctant to join him. They had already lost it all. They wanted to regrow and rebuild. They had a family legacy to try and live up to. They wanted their homes back to the way that they were. Krag left them with his promise to rebuild once he had destroyed the Zombies and their offspring. The men continued on their way to the mountain.

RAMAL

Ramal made it to the forest. The trees were beautiful and the air was refreshing, but thin. She weaved her way around the woods. She found wild mushrooms and onions. A stream gently flowed down a rock on the hillside. She giddily accepted its cool course into her hands. She washed her hands and face before drinking hastily.

She ate her findings. For a moment, full and somewhat clean, she was happy. She smiled at the sky and softly said “Thank you.” She leaned back against a tree, with her feet in front of her on the ground. She sighed and drifted off to sleep.

The mountain air was refreshing. She thoroughly enjoyed her nap. It was needed. Ramal contemplated her next move. She thought about her mother and father, and what they would have done. She caressed her blade. The hilt was worn but still in good shape. The blade was strong and sharp. She cleaned it off with the edge of her skort. As she was lost in thought, a deer approached her. She didn’t hear him. He came to the edge of the mountain cliff. He was eating wild flowers, unaware of her presence. When she saw him, she admired his elegance. The brownish grey fur was smooth and thick. His antlers were praiseworthy. The change in color, and thickness of his fur, and antlers, meant that winter was coming.

Ramal decided that she needed to get a food supply. She needed to be ready for the snow. She softly hummed an old family lullaby. The deer turned toward her. He flicked his ears back and forth and then nodded at her. She moved closer to him. He went back to eating. He relaxed under her entrancing voice. She continued to hum the same tune. When she was close enough to pet him, she leaned in and stroked the fur on his neck. She slowly pulled the sword closer to him with the other hand.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. With one hand she grabbed hold of his antlers and with the other she slit his throat. Blood shot out of his neck and down her arm. He sorrowfully glanced at her as he fell to the ground. She exhaled as the light in his eyes dimmed. Once she knew that his life essence was gone, she carefully skinned and gutted him.

Ramal intertwined some of the tree willows to make rope. She stretched the hide over some rocks, tying the ends down. She used the sinew to create a meat wrapper. She tied the bones together to make a jerky rack and hanger. Ramal sharpened the antlers into daggers. She carefully wrapped the entrails in the sinew. She was going to bait her traps with it. She needed to keep the brain for tanning the hide. She needed to find a way to keep her deer hidden from the other animals. She walked away from the edge of the cliff.

Further into the woods would be safer for a fire. She cut a few trees out of the way. A makeshift shelter from them should work. She also created a fire pit not too far from it. The mountain was plentiful with the things that she needed. Her parents had made sure that she knew how to use them, and was capable.

Ramal stayed busy that day, her daylight time was limited. She wanted to smoke her meat in darkness so that she didn’t cause alarm to the Orcs. Her mouth was watering for the venison. It had been a very long time since she had a proper dinner. Meat was scarce. “This is going to be awesome!” She said to herself.