What next?

I now have three (3) things I could work on. I could work on my novella, and keep going with that, I could work on the arena pt II, or I could continue with Harrok, and finish off my short story entitled 'crimson snow' (which has been started, a little bit anyways). The poll option is broke, so please comment in with your votes. You have until April 24 to get it in, I'm busy until then, but after that I plan to work on whatever is chosen. Please let me know what you want, your vote may just swing it due to the entire low readership thing.

On Orcs

Here it is, a bonus post for reaching 3 digits of visitors. A bit late, but what the hey.

Orcs are large grenskinned humanoids, averaging 7feet in height and 180kg (400 lb). They have a tough leathery skin which darkens and becomes tougher as they age. Their facial characteristics are prone to much diversity, however bucket jaws and large fangs are common. Almost all are considered ugly by human standards, with any sense of proportion thrown out the window. To make their bestial faces worse, they are almost all scarred with broken noses and jaws and torn ears due to their rough lifestyle.

Often seen as the quintessential noble savage, orcs have a complex and rigid system of honour. However it is very different and alien to human chivalry. There is no compunction against attacking the weak or helpless, but it values courage and bravery above all else. Many orcish mercenaries have turned upon a hirer when they decide that they have been hired by a coward/that their foes are more brave then their allies. They do not see this as being a traitor, by being less brave they have forfeited the right to their service (in the orc's eyes).

The orcish social system is based upon these courage-honour ideals, with each tribe lead by a chief - the bravest and most courageous orc in the tribe. These tribes in turn make up klans, with the klan leader taking the title of boss-chief, warboss, warcheif or warlord (in ascending levels of seniority). When a particularly powerful boss-chief arises, he will exert respect and control over nearby klans, and arise to the title of warboss. A warboss will expand the orc's territory, aggressively conquering all nearby forces. As these klans grow in power, they will amalgamate other groupings of klans (called hordes), with the greatest orc being declared warboss. Often there will be competition for this spot - a group of the oldest orcs will judge, often calling for feats of strength, endurance, bravery and cunning to help decide. If all else fails, single combat shall decide the warcheif. Only the greatest orcs ascend to the title of warlord, and they lead great hordes across the globe in violent attempts to create an orcish nation. Orcish tribes will migrate across great distances to be part of such a great horde, and serve under such a brave and honorable orc. After the warlord dies, these generally loose momentum and fracture, but will unite again under pressure or when threatened.

There are few loose orcish empires made in this fashion. The wild plains is home to one such 'empire' as is the lands surrounding Frostpeak, the badlands in the northern end of the eastern desert. These 'empires' are based around a fortress like capital, with smaller orcish fortress-cities spread around. These cities aren't heavily populated, except in times of war, when they can house many times their normal population. The warlike nature of orcish society means that this isn't infrequently. The rest of the time, most orcs are semi-nomadic, setting up rough camps where they hunt their food, raid other camps or human cities for food (which includes humans).

Orcs as a rule, don't grow crops. They often have herds of animals in their fortress-cities, usually pigs (the orcs have bread a particularly large species of semi-domesticated pig which they use for many purposes) or a type of domesticated bear, but often cattle, and less frequently horses, sheep or other foodstock animals. Otherwise they hunt or raid for their food. If prey is scarce or there isn't time to hunt they will eat fruits and berries - however they will usually hunt if they can.

Orcs are often seen as evil, but aren't evil as such, any more then humanity, they are just a very violent, aggressive and belligerent people, whose culture and society is based on warfare. Orcs have become accepted in Erondian society (to a limited level anyway), and can live in a peaceful society. However, outside of cities (orcish or human) they don't see any reason for it. Orcish cities in fact have virtually no crime - this is as theft is almost unheard of (orcs would rather fight someone for something then steal it), and orcs are forbidden from fighting inside the city walls. This tradition was established to stop the orcish cities from infighting themselves to extinction during times of siege, when the lack of space makes the normally aggressive orcs barely controlled psycho maniacs. This has been enforced so strongly for so long, it is unthinkable for an orc to fight other orcs inside the city. Cities are 'safe-zones' from inter orc raiding, and violence, however they are rarely taken advantage of - as most (ie. almost all) orcs would exit the city to fight against any odds rather then be called a coward.

Orcs usually use crude spears or clubs, made from wood or bone whist the tribes are in their infancy, but once a blacksmith has been set up, weapons quickly become all metal behemoths too large for a human to wield. Massive battle axes, mauls, clubs, claymores, broadswords, maces and spears all forged out of cast iron for poorer orcs, or steel for richer orcs are common, and many use bones, fangs and teeth (usually from the orcs themselves, or from one of the larger beasts they hunt) in their construction. Bows are rare, and are almost unused amongst orcs, the few orcish bowmen around use massive constructions that launch arrows akin to javelins. The arrowheads are massive barbed brutal things, often resembling a morning star or having poisoned fangs protruding from the shaft. Orcish tribes often steal weapons off neighboring peoples, and many orcish choppas (choppa = pidgin orcish for axe [derived from chop-er, one that chops]) are crowned by an unfortunate knight's broadsword or an unlucky dwarf's axe .

Orcish religion is almost non existent. They believe that their ancestors form a kind of pantheon, their stature and power (and therefore importance) is created by the amount of glory and honour their deeds have earned them. Orcish shamans communicate with these spirits, and the spirits grant them power in a manner similar to paladins or clerics of the gods. Many shamans also practice warlockery (the usage of daemons, afrit and djinn to manipulate magical energies) and some are also mages (any mage-born orcs would be apprenticed to a shaman) or sorcerers (usually of limited ability, but some very potent orc sorcerers do exist). Orcish magic is similar to a blunderbuss - by firing assorted mix and match ammunitions a deadly (if unpredictable) effect is reached. It is not unheard of for an orc shaman to outmatch human master-mages, due to the volatile and unpredictable nature of his casting. Whilst the human magician will specialize in one type of magic, the orcish shaman would have a smattering of all of it. For example, almost all orc shamans can cast 'sorcerous crush' (referred to simply as 'stomp' by the orcs), but most know little to no other sorcery.

The Hunt

Before I start, the _______ titles are so easy. Hmmm, its about a hunt, but not just any hunt. It's The Hunt. Replace the word 'hunt' with verb or noun of choice. Viola!

Harrok waited, still and silent in the soft snow. His white bear pelt kept his body above freezing, and hid him in the white expanses. Breathing the cold air was like sucking ice into his lungs, draining his last reserves of warmth from the inside. Harrok continued to wait, motionless. The sun, a point of brightness, refracted and reflected from the white cloudy sky, to the white ground below; Slowly descending, it glared from everything, making the world unbearably white. All Harrok could see is formless white; he had to resist the urge to check he could still see himself. Harrok's eyes had adjusted to the brightness, he could see everything - but there was only white to be seen.

Suddenly there was colour. The horizon splashed into view as red sunset bloomed. The world took on a pink tint, as the red light refused to stay on the horizon, but coloured everything there was to see. And still Harrok waited.

Further movement, and a massive head burst from the snow. A lone inky black head marred the delicate white pink wilderness. Soon massive furry black shoulders followed, and a massive great bear soon stood on the snow, emerged from its underground den. At least 9ft high, it was large, even for its own kind. It was the end of autumn, and the great bear's massive dark form was heavy with the fat built up for hibernation. Tonight would be its last hunt before it retired and slept for the winter. 'Mine too' thought Harrok 'It will be the very last hunt for one of us, great bear'. Shaking the snow from its furry hide, the bear lumbered toward Harrok's hiding spot in the snow, just as Harrok new it would. Harrock had been studdying this bear for months, learning its habbits and its mannerisms.

The bear loomed larger and larger in Harrok's vision, growing and expanding until it took up the whole horizon. It was mere feet from Harrok, and still Harrok waited. Harrok prayed to his gods that his camouflage was good enough, that the layer of snow completely covered him, that his eyes weren't too visible through the white rabbit hide mask under the snow, that he had hidden in the right spot, that the bear wouldn't amble over him unnoticing of Harrok's demise, that he would see his family again. That he wouldn't be joining his father and fore-fathers in the halls of the dead tonight. He prayed fervently, all the while motionless, knowing that the slightest movement would give his position away to the mighty bear, and cause him to be crushed beneath one of its mighty clawed paws. The monstrous black bear wouldn't even consider him a threat, but would crush him nonchalantly under his great paw, like a human would crush a bug. Great bears hunted the 'smaller' bears of the northern ranges, the polar bears and mammoths, the sabertooths and the rhinoxen. They were the top of the food tree, and only feared the snow trolls, who would hunt them for food in the long winter months.

Harrok's luck held. The bear stopped, and yawned, its hot breath creating a puff of steam in the frigid air.

Harrock continued to wait.

Suddenly the snow exploded. Harrok burst from his hiding spot. He pulled his knife from its sheath, and like lightning slammed it up into the bottom of the great bear's gigantic furry head. The iron knife slipped behind the jawbone and thrust into the bears brain before the mighty predator could react. The bear instantly collapsed as Harrok darted away, and watched the red blood bleed from the wound, a crimson stain spreading on the white snow, crimson stain contrasting against the pureness.

Stretching stiff bones Harrok grabbed his horn, and brought it to his lips. The horn sung out, its call echoing over the plains. Soon Harrok's family would be here, with fire to cook the meat, and a sled to help shift the carcass. As it was, Harrok could only wait for them to arrive - he couldn't even shift the carcass of the gargantuan beast alone. He looked out as the last traces of sunset disappeared from the horizon. Now all he had to do was wait. . .

For those who are interested, I have written a sequel. Red Hunt.