The Hundred Year War

As footsteps approached him, Shadowsigh prayed to the gods that it was the leader. As the footsteps got closer, he readied himself, waiting for the exact moment when it would be the pristine time to strike. When he was close enough that he could hear the Orc breathing, he jumped up, drawing the dagger he'd kept strapped to his thigh. Letting out a wild call, he wasted no time in attacking the Orc, while at the same time everyone else who was still alive did the same, jumping at the nearest Orc. Now that their numbers had thinned out a bit, the fight seemed more even, and the Elves' morale jumped.
 
Rogdush and the rest of the Orcs were taken by surprise, as some of the elves suddenly jumped back up, starting to fight them again. The elven leader managed to stab him multiple times in his left shoulder, before he managed to react, by bringing the sword he was holding up, down towards the elf, attempting to smack him down with the hilt.
The Orcs were initially taken by surprise, some being outright killed, while others were angered by the elves cowardly strategy. The sound of battle once more rose, steel against steel, steel against flesh and the roars of both sides.
 
Shadowsigh was too caught up in his stabbing of the Orc and it was almost too late for him to realize that he was bringing down the hilt of his sword, aiming to incapacitate him. Pushing off with his foot, he almost dodged it, but moved too late, and was only able to move out of the way slightly, the hilt instead connecting with his shoulder. Resisting the natural urge to make his hand fly to the injury, in order to see if it was broken or not, he weaved out of the immediate way of the Orc, breathing through his teeth and squeezing his eyes shut for a second. It didn't feel dislocated, but he wouldn't know until he got out of the battle and was able to take account of his wounds. Stepping forwards again, he attempted to stab the Orc in his abdomen.
 
Rogdush remembered one of the reasons he hated elves. The little buggers were quick and agile, as proven by the one jumping off him, almost avoiding his attack. He had hit him in the shoulder, possibly hurting it quite a bit, yet his own shoulder wasn't all fine and dandy either. It was hurting and bleeding, yet he wasn't going to let a few stab wounds stop him. He had already lost an eye to the elf, so this dagger wielding git wasn't getting out of this alive. The elf stepped forward again, likely to try to stab again, and Rogdush answered with what he hoped was unexpected. He turned his bleeding shoulder towards the elf and almost jumped at him, before swinging himself around, and sending his sword down towards the elf once more.
 
Shadowsigh was unprepared for the Orc's next attack. While he was readying himself to deflect him out of his way, he was already bringing the sword down to his head. His center of balance going off-kilter, he fell backwards, his vision pulsing with black spots that soon grew. His head hitting the ground did nothing to help. Remembering from past experiences that it would easily take him thirty seconds, a minute at most, to recollect himself and be able to fight without stabbing himself, he said, "I...we surrender. Call off your men and we'll leave, and won't come back." Even saying those few words made his head pound, and he had to pause several times to get it under control before he would begin speaking again.
 
Rogdush laughed. "Do you really think I'll just let you take my eye and most of my men, then just go back home?" He stepped on the elf's chest, to pin him in place. "But then again... I'm not one wanting to lose even more men." He turned his head slightly upwards. "BOYS! Stop fighting! The leader of the gits surrendered! We won again!" He turned back to the elf, opening both his eyes. "And now. For my revenge." He said, grinning widely, as he brought his sword over his head, readying it to swing, making sure to put most of his weight on the elf as he did. "You take something from me, I take something from you!" With a cheer from the remaining Orcs, the sword swung down, right towards the upper arm of the elf.
 
Shadowsigh grimaced as the Orc stepped on his chest, not one to show weakness to his enemies, but having trouble to breath nonetheless. He was able to relax when he told his soldiers to cease fighting, leaving his own warriors panting for breath and cradling wounds. However, his eyes grew wide as he realized that the Orc was planning on taking his sword arm. Glancing past him, he could see some of his warriors already stepping forwards, not about to let their leader be crippled like that, but he sent warning glares their way, knowing that if he was to get as many of them as possible to their families and homes. As a coping mechanism, Shadowsigh's wit came to the surface, and he couldn't help but say, "Isn't the saying 'an eye for an eye?' Besides, you left yourself wide open for the arrow." He couldn't help but smile, his mind trying to protect itself like it normally did when he knew something terrible was going to happen. It had happened the first time he was getting a piercing, the one all his warriors had, that wolf pups' claw through their bottom lip. And it seemed it was happening now.
 
The claymore cut the arm clean off with little difficulty, chopping it off with a sickening sound. Rogdush stood still with a wicked grin for a moment, enjoying the elf's pain. The elf tried to hide it, yet it was obviously painful. "I don't kill enemies that surrender, and its hard to take just your eye with a blade like this." Rogdush said with an evil chuckle. He bent down and picked up the severed arm, admiring his latest trophy for a moment. He turned his attention back to the elf. "Now get outta here. The people of the city will be allowed to take care of the dead. And if I see you anywhere near my town again, I won't just take a arm. I'll take your damn skull! Now get your boys moving!" He kicked the elf to make his point.
Rogdush turned towards his men, with a triumphant look. "You did good today boys! We lost a great many of our brothers, yet we won! The city is ours! We'll rest a bit for now, but before the night comes, we should have a alter readied. We don't want our fallen to rot in the streets do we?" He paused a moment. "But when the dead and the wounded are taken care of, we shall feast!" He roared, and his men roared back at him.
 
Shadowsigh tried to keep his face stoic when he felt the blade cut cleanly through his arm, but he was unable to do so when the pain hit for that first second or so, his features became etched with pain. His fingers dug into the ground, his eyes jerked shut, and he ground his teeth, hardly able to focus enough to hear the Orc speaking to him. When he kicked the Elf, Shadowsigh grunted in pain, his hand flying to his side. As the Orc turned his back to him, he was going to jump back up, but it proved too difficult with one hand. Instead sitting up, then pushing himself to his feet proved more easy. Staggering away a few feet, the nearest of his shoulders came to him, attempting to help stem the bleeding, but he shrugged them off, raising his voice as loud as he could, "Get the wounded and the dead out of here first. Make sure they're home by the time the moon is in the middle of the sky tonight. Get our shaman to bless the dead, and tomorrow morning we'll have the proper burial rites. Hopefully we thinned them out enough that my brother can find a way to kill them all..." he looked up at Erethor, whose face was creased with worry. "Damn bastard," Shadowsigh muttered, "if he wasn't family..."

Shadowsigh had been born nobility, and would have been the lord of the city had he not became El'set. It had been harder than anything he'd ever done, trying to prove to them that he wasn't some spy, but after several years, his predecessor, who hadn't any children, had given the role of leader to him when he died. If one looked past the paint, piercings, scars, and dye that colored his hair, one would see the striking resemblance he and his brother shared, even if their personalities were as different as night and day. Turning back to the warrior nearest him, he said, "If the damn Orcs try and keep the bodies from us, damn surrender. El'set are El'set even after death, and must be returned to the gods as soon as possible."
 
The Orcs that weren't too badly hurt walked around, taking trophies, which would range from weapons to heads while mostly ignoring the still living elves. The ones who were wounded went into the city to get their wounds treated, including Rogdush. The goblins healers rapidly became busy with cleaning and stitching wounds. After a while, a few orcs had started stacking stones, to make a alter, while a few others had started carrying their dead towards the alter site.

One orc, slightly smaller than the others opened the gate to the elves prison and walked inside. He looked around for a moment, before he started talking loudly. "This city is now under the command of Chief Rogdush Blackskull! You are now his subjects and under the protection of the Blackskull clan! You will not have to stay in this prison for long! Some of you will even be allowed out today, as we need some of you for labor! We will ask for volunteers! If we get none, we will pick whoever looks like they could be fit for the task!" He paused for a moment again. "First, we need volunteers to serve the Chief! Those of you who are picked will get better living conditions than most others! Secondly, we need volunteers to give you fallen your proper burial rites, whatever they may be! Now, step forward, or we will start picking ourselves!" He shouted, looking around to see if anyone stepped forward.
 
Daerela looked up when the Orc walked into the square, remaining silent as he spoke. She knew not many people would volunteer, not so soon after the control of the city switched sides. But she would; she had to. She knew she couldn't do much besides that of a servant, and had no idea how to preform the burial rites, having never understood the complex system. On top of that, she had no where to go, no family to be with. As the Orc asked for volunteers, Daerela hesitated only a moment before pushing herself to her feet, much to the mortification of Hadiir.

Standing up now, she could see Erethor's family, his wife and young twin boys she had trouble holding by herself. She could see how his wife looked terrified, perhaps for Erethor, perhaps for herself, and how she was trying to comfort the boys, maybe trying to tell them that it would be alright. Sitting farther away from most of the others was Erethor's guard, who bore many new wounds from the events of the day. Not even half the population remained. It was a saddening thought, to think that this was all that was left of the once-great stronghold.
 
A few elves came forward, though Nazhrek, the Orc that had come for the elves, figured it was enough. He had them unchained. "I'm warning you: we don't take kindly to workers who try to run away." He said, giving them a stern look. He lead them outside, where a large group of goblins and a few orcs were waiting. "Those of you here for taking care of the dead, go along with this group. They'll help you carry the bodies and whatnot. Those of you hoping to become servants, come with me." He said, before turning and walking towards the castle.
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Rogdush was sitting in what used to be Lord Erethor's room. He had gotten his eyelids on the missing eye get stitched together, to make sure nothing unwanted got in there. The eye and the stitches were hurting a bit, yet he tried to ignore it. Having been in the rather long fight that it was, he had gotten tired as the adrenaline stopped flowing as freely. He had gotten a barrel of ale from the supply carts, and was nursing a tankard, trying to relax a bit. He had taken off most of his armor, sitting in only a pair of leather pants. As he took a large gulp from the tankard, two goblins led Erethor into the room. They placed him in a chair opposite of Rogdush's, before removing his collar and leaving the room again. Rogdush didn't say a word, yet he wanted the old ruler of the city there for some reason.
 
Erethor glanced around the room as soon as he was led in, both relieved and fearful to find his wife and children not there. His gaze kept darting about, looking at anything but the Orc's eye, the one Shadowsigh took out with his bow. After several minutes of silence, he couldn't take it anymore. "Where are they?" he asked. "Malrin, Hitthor and Nimdor?" His eyebrows pressed together in worry as he referred to his wife and sons, respectively. If any of them were hurt, in any way, he didn't know if he could stand seeing them like that.

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Daerela stood at the back of the group, not catching anyone's eye with her own as the Orc spoke. However, when he told those who were going to help with the bodies to go with a group standing to the side, everyone besides her left, and she stood alone. Hoping the Orc noticed, hating being singled out in anything, she followed him from a couple yards away, forcing her gaze to stay forwards, so she wouldn't look back.
 
Rogdush just looked at the elf for a moment, slightly confused. "Who?" He asked simply. "Someone important to you? Unless they did something stupid, I'd assume they're together with the others, outside. If not, then they hid extremely well from the goblins, or they tried escaping, and are most likely lying face down in the dirt somewhere." He said, with a slight smirk, before emptying the rest of his tankard.
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Nazhrek turned his head to see how many had followed him, and how many had went with the other group. He was slightly disappointed that it was only one, but he figured she might be enough. "I warn you. The Chief has a bad temper at times, especially after this battle. But if you serve him well, you will be treated accordingly." He said over his shoulder, as they passed the alter, where they were lighting the Spirit-fire on the top. He walked on, leading her into the castle. "You will be more or less free to walk the castle, though you are not to leave it, unless you get permission to do so. Other than that, you are to follow the Chief's every command. Understood?" He asked, as the approached a door inside the castle.
 
While she was silent as the Orc told her about what would go on in the castle, her mind was running at a million miles and hour. Not being able to go where she pleased would be a problem. She'd be stir-crazy in days. The Orc's comment about his leader's temper scared her slightly. She knew that if Erethor was alive, she didn't know if he was though, he wouldn't stand for it if the Orc hit her, but what if he was dead or not around? Realizing that the Orc was waiting for an answer as they reached a door in the castle, she did nothing but nod once, the understanding prevalent in her eyes.

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Erethor was able to breath again when the Orc told him that his family was most likely okay. The boys were too young to understand the severity of the situation, and Malrin wouldn't have done something stupid like that, especially if it held the risk of leaving the boys without her. "When will I be able to see them?" he asked, clearly worried. His family meant everything to him, and gods be damned if he couldn't be with them again.
 
"These people seem to be someone you care about... Family, I take it?" Rogdush asked, noticing the look of the elf's face. "I might be a warrior and a commander. But I am not heartless. I have a family myself. We can have them brought here by the evening. As soon as the castle has had a bit more... work done, and the feast is almost ready." He put the empty tankard on the table between them. "I may enjoy killing my enemies. But I do not enjoy robbing children of their fathers." Rogdush said, with a serious look on his face.
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Nazhrek put a hand on the door, about to open it, but he stopped. "And one last thing... Call him Chieftain or Lord. Do not call him Orc or greenskin. It might be true, yet he mostly looks at those terms as being said in a negative way. I'll be waiting outside here, and when the Chieftain is satisfied, I'll show you what will be your quarters." He opened the door carefully.
As he entered, he slammed his fist across his chest. "Chieftain! Here is the servant you asked for." Nazhrek said simply, almost shoving the elf inside. "If any more are required, I shall be ready to find more." He left the room again and closed the door behind him. The eye of the much larger orc was now on the new elf, as if examining her.
 
Erethor could smell the alcohol on the Orc's breath. Not knowing what he might do if he was intoxicated, the Elf made a mental note to watch his actions carefully, just in case. He could not believe a word the Orc said, however, not on the matter of taking fathers from children. Even the notion that the Orc could have his own family seemed a stretch. Just as he was about to speak, another Orc opened the door, pushing in front of him Daerela. His eyes going wide at the sight, Erethor was able to gain a little hope that his other three servants were still alive. If Seregor, Hadiir, and his guard were still alive as well, then maybe the battle didn't have as many casualties as he had originally estimated.

Seeing the redness appearing on her pale cheeks as the Orc watched her, he couldn't help but clench his hands beneath the table. If that green bastard touched her...

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Keeping a straight face as the Orc told her not to call his leader any of the derogatory names Elves had for his kind, she nodded before he opened the door. Almost tripping as she was pushed into the room, she came to recognize it as Erethor's room. Suddenly having second thoughts about volunteering, especially by how the Orc was examining her, she could feel the embarrassment creeping up on her face, but kept her gaze on the Orc, keeping her head held high.
 
"Well, well, well... One who volunteered to serve me... why is that? The safety of the castle? The promise of better living conditions than the others? Or simply liking your new ruler that much?" Rogdush chuckled slightly at the last question, saying it only to amuse himself. "Well, lets see if you're a willing servant or not. Fill my tankard." He pointed to the tankard on the table. "And clean my sword and armor." He then pointed to the sword and armor leaning against the wall. "Simple enough, isn't it?" He asked with a slight smile.
Rogdush turned towards Erethor. "And I feel like I should find something useful for you to do too... But I just can't think of what..." He rubbed his shoulder as he talked, flinching as he touched his wounds. "So, I suppose until I can come up with anything better, you'll just be keeping me company."
 
Daerela gave a quick glance to Erethor as the Orc told her to fill the tankard and clean his armor and sword. He gave a small, almost-imperceivable nod, the shadows in his eyes telling her everything. Mechanically stepping forwards, she hesitantly refilled the tankard, her hand shaking badly, but not so much that she spilled anything. Backing away from the table, she produced a handkerchief and sat down at a chair in the corner near the door, taking the sword in her hand. It was almost too heavy for her to carry, but she was able to set it across her lap and begin cleaning it, knowing from what Seregor had tried to teach her that she had to get into all the small places or else it wouldn't be properly done.

Erethor watched her struggle with the sword, zoning out for a second before he heard the Orc speaking to him. Jumping slightly in his chair, he looked back at him, not showing any reaction as he was told that he was going to keep him company for the time being.
 
"Your city seemed to be rather... Lightly defended, for being what many would call a important one. Weren't you expecting us, or were you simply believing that your troops would be able to stop mine? Or were you trying to prepare, and that was why the other elves came?" Rogdush asked as he reached for his tankard again. "Or was there a different reason to the defense?" Rogdush had imagined that it would be a hard fight, or possibly a long siege. But no, it was a relatively short battle. He looked at Erethor, in a way expecting a bad answer, yet he'd probably have some reason that made sense to him, if nothing else.

Outside, the alter had been prepared, with the bodies of the dead around it. At sundown, they would burn the bodies, before the victory-feast. The goblins chefs were already busy preparing the food and setting the tables. After that they were going to get the city into a working condition, once more. Most likely not in the same way as before the orcs took over, but working nonetheless.
 
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