Prologue: (Not so) Bright guard

“Why ya fink we got dis “Gard dootee” fing den?”

“Cos we is da bestest!”

“Yood fink dose Black Orc boyz’d wanna be gardin’ dere own lair.”

“Dey obviously appreciate wot weez Orcs can do.”

“Den why did dey giv us a scrawny runt as backup?”

The two Orcs looked back at the Night Goblin archer, stood as far away from the Orcs as possible and quaking in his boots.

“Probly a snack in case we is ‘ungry.”

“Hur, yer.”

There was a faint whistling noise followed by a ‘thunk’ as an arrow came from the blackness and landed square in the chest of the first Orc.

“Ow!”

“Where did dat come from den?”

“I dunno, but it ‘urt.”

A second arrow appeared and struck the second Orc in the chest.

“Ow! I gon and got one now!”

“Summat not rite ‘ere.”

A light appeared from the darkness, dim at first, but rapidly growing brighter.

“Youse see sumfink?”

“Yer, I…”

The Orc was interrupted by the appearance of a huge Barbarian appearing from the pitch blackness. The human swung back his sword and then sliced at the first Orc’s neck, taking its head clean off.

“’Ere, wot yoo..?”

The second Orc was stabbed through the gut before the sword was wrenched forcefully upwards, ripping through bone and gristle before exiting at the shoulder.

“TROGDAAAAAAAAAAAAR!” shouted Trogdar as he stood triumphant, black blood dripping from his sword.

“Yes, very good,” said Jandyr as he casually walked into the light.

Trogdar heaved in enormous breaths, his chest expanding with each one as he revelled in victory, his teeth set in a rictus grin.

“I shall move forward and prepare to cast a spell.”

Trogdar eventually started to calm, his breathing growing shallower and his arm dropping to his side.

“Sorted yourself out laddie?” asked Short-arse, picking her way over the Orc corpses.

“No…” said Trogdar, his face falling into a frown, “Not quite yet.”

As he followed after the others, he noticed a lone Night Goblin pinned to the wall, an arrow jutting from its neck.

“Why’d they only have one Goblin?” he asked no-one in particular.

“Dunno,” replied Short-arse, “Maybe they’re in short supply.”

Trogdar laughed at the implied pun and strode off.

The vibrations of the human’s step loosened the Goblin who fell to the floor. On his back was carved a message, written through his robes with a knife and left to bleed.

“Black Orcs’ lair. STAY OUT!”