Skirmish (Fangdarr): Intruder
Follow along each week for Skirmishes of characters of the Orcblood Legacy Series. These are real events that take place during the story’s timeline but are not detailed in the book.
Poking his head over the last bit of rock in his ascent, Fangdarr peered into the darkened mouth of the cave. It appeared almost villainous. Teeth of stone had been carved over much of the entrance, though seemingly long ago by the wither of the cave’s face. He pulled himself up onto the shallow cliff and looked down to where he had started his climb. It was over twice his height to the hardened dirt. With luck, most trespassers should be repelled by the difficult climb alone—should they notice it at all. It was by sheer chance Fangdarr had glanced upwards, catching glimpse of the shadowed entrance beyond.
As he stood at the brink of darkness, his skin became tighter from the chillness that emanated from within. Fangdarr took a step forward, then another. With each pace the cool air only grew worse, safe from the annihilating warmth of the sun’s light. Not perfect, he thought to himself, but safe. As he took continued deeper into the abyss of the pitch black cave, his fingers sliding along the stone wall and ceiling to guide him, he cursed himself for making such a claim too soon.
Despite the icy cave’s unwelcoming embrace, the orc could hear the rhythmic breathing of a slumbering being further in. He could feel the air around him growing warmer in slight. It was impossible to see the form on the other side of the stone wall, though it had to be large by the amount of heat that could be felt flooding the area.
Fangdarr gripped his axe tightly before taking care to step lightly. Even his heavily calloused bare feet could feel the sting of cold weaken as they made contact with new ground. The orc cautiously peeked around the corner, careful not to scrape against the wall. He nearly gasped aloud in surprise when his eyes could finally pick out the creature ahead, sleeping peacefully.
Based on the form his eyes could see from the emanating heat, he could only assume the monstrosity was some sort of ogre or giant. Never had he encountered either, only the stories of his mentor could help put a name to the hulking mass a spear’s-length away. His mind raced over the few odd tales Tormag had shared. What was the difference between the two? Fangdarr questioned, racking his brain. Finally, he recalled a single discussion:
‘Lad, the thing ye need t’ know about ogres is they be dumber than a stack o’ gnomes. They may be big and can squeeze the life out o’ an orc or dwarf, don’t ye doubt, but they can be bested by playin’ smart. Now, giants, on the other hand, are the worse o’ the bunch from what I’m told. Never seen one meself. From what I hear, ye’ll know one when ye see it. And if ye see it. Run.’
Fangdarr eyed the cave’s large inhabitant with curiosity and concern. It had taken him another two days just to find this place—a delay he did not wish to repeat. His hands clutched the shaft of his marvelous weapon more tightly. He needed this cave.