Breaking Providence (Original Fantasy)

“Fifteen Bones.”
 
“Twenty-Three.”
 
“Heh. Fine.”
 
Dice are thrown. Beady black eyes dart over each of the numbers that end up facing the starry night sky. After a moment, one face breaks into a wide grin while the other turns into a mighty scowl. Reaching out, the first of the two orcs collects his winnings, the second orc stewing in his loss.
 
“Bastard.”
 
“Now, now. What have I said? Don’t be sore loser.”
 
“… Again?”
 
“Aye.”
 
Before they can start another round however, a loud squeal echoes through the camp, filling the air with panicked noise. Both orcs look up, their wide tusked mouths curling back into excited, eager grins.
 
“Listen to that piggy squeal.”
 
“Aye, nothing better than the sound of a sow getting what’s coming to her.”
 
The squealing doesn’t last much longer before suddenly being cut off by a sickening crunch. Across the way on the other side of the orcish warband’s current campsite, the two orcs can just make out the form of the camp cook, having just finished slaughtering a hog to put on the spit and roast for the evening’s dinner. As the cook drains the massive swine of its blood, the two orcs return to their dice game, snorting and snuffling a bit as the smell reaches their noses and makes them start to salivate.
 
“… You hear the news?”
 
“Eh? What’s that?”
 
“There’s a new Hero.”
 
That brings the other orc up short. He blinks his dark, beady eyes for a moment… before picking his nose absently.
 
“Really?”
 
“Aye. Brat was discovered over in the humans’ Capital.”
 
“Huh.”
 
“Yeah.”
 
There’s a brief pause, and then the second orc just shrugs his shoulders.
 
“Sixteen bones.”
 
“Twenty-four.”
 
Scowling, he hesitates for a moment before nodding in response. They throw their dice, and as they absently count up, the first orc snickers.
 
“That ain’t the rub of it though, from what I hear. New Hero means a new Lord. But haven’t heard anything about a new Lord yet.”
 
Glancing over at him, the second orc wrinkles his nose in confusion, not quite following along. He also fails to notice the first orc subtly turning one of the dice over with one massive green digit while he’s distracted. A single die that just so happens to put the outcome in the first orc’s favor once again.
 
“… Aye…”
 
Rolling his eyes at the other orc’s dim nature, the first orc sighs.
 
“Could mean the holy fucks got ‘em locked away in a basement somewhere. Or it could mean they’re out there and we’re gonna be answering the call some point soon.”
 
Something akin to a flickering dimly lit candle suddenly ‘shines’ in the second orc’s eyes.
 
“Oh. Boss Lady ain’t gonna like that, is she? Undermines her authority, don’t it?”
 
Shaking his head, the first orc gestures to the dice, forcing the second to finally focus on them… and realize he’s lost again. As he’s cursing up a storm, the first orc gathers up his latest winnings before taking pity on his dimwitted counterpart.
 
“Boss Lady is a General. She’ll answer the call same as the rest of us. Might test the new Lord, but there’s only one way that ends… with her on her knees whether her head is still attached to her shoulders or not.”
 
The second orc slowly nods, processing the first orc’s words after a time.
 
“That’s not the important part. The important part I heard is about the Hero. Ya see, the Hero-!”
 
“GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!”
 
Both orcs startle badly as a truly massive roar fills the air, sending birds on nearby trees flying away and causing a great big stir as every bald, green head in the camp snaps up from whatever they were doing and looks in its direction. Not a single one of them dares to move from their spot until the flap of the largest tent in the camp suddenly bursts open and a hulking female orc steps out. She’s only half-dressed, wearing pitch-black plate armor on her legs and feet while nothing but a dirtied wrap covers her chest.
 
And yet, she commands the attention of every orc in the camp as she sweeps her gaze back and forth across them all, the hill her tent is located on giving her a vantage point over the whole place. Her nostrils flare open and shut for several seconds before she finally speaks.
 
“GET YOUR FUCKING SHIT TOGETHER! SEND RUNNERS TO THE OTHER TRIBES! TIME TO STOP FUCKING LAYING ABOUT AND HIDING! WE’RE TAKING THE FIGHT TO THE FUCKING EMPIRE!”
 
With her piece said, the half-dressed orc spins back around and stomps back into her tent with one final snarl. No one dares breathe for a few seconds more just in case she comes back, though when she doesn’t, they do finally start to relax after a little while longer. As the smell of cooking pig finally begins to waft through the suddenly frenzied camp, the second orc turns to the first and wrinkles his nose.
 
“General’s mad about somethin’.”
 
Rolling his eyes, the first orc nods.
 
“Aye, she is. She musta found out about the Hero. Bet it stuck in her craw something fierce… they take everything they can from us, and then even this…”
 
Pouting now as even someone of his diminished intellect realizes when he’s being strung along, the second orc sighs.
 
“What’re ya talkin’ about?”
 
Straightening up, the first orc gives his companion a glinting black eye and then proceeds to drop the bombshell to end all bombshells.
 
“The new Hero. He’s a half-orc.”
 
There’s a beat of silence as he delivers that particular bit of insane news. Then, the second orc furrows his brow.
 
“… Oh. Okay.”
 
With a groan, the first orc begins collecting their dice before standing and shaking his head.
 
“Tch. Idiot. Don’t know why I even bother with you.”
 
-x-X-x-
 
In her tent, the Dark General Roka-Ra’s fists are clenched tight. So tight that the color in her green knuckles has begun to pale slightly from the lack of blood flow. The orcish woman is positively vibrating with fury. She’s incandescent with rage. They dared… they fucking dared.
 
Sure, intellectually Roka-Ra knew it probably wasn’t by design. She wasn’t an idiot, thank you very much. If the Church had their choice, they would never have let something like this happen. But even if it might not be design, it still felt pretty fucking personal. Nearly two decades ago, they’d had an orcish Dark Lord. They didn’t get one of those very often.
 
The Holy Empire had hunted orcs until they were little more than a few thousand scattered across a couple dozen tribes just barely surviving on the border territories. So in the grand scheme of things, the chance of there being an orc Awakened as the Dark Lord was… low compared to some of the more populated races.
 
And yet, it had happened. Over two decades ago, it had happened. Gral-Ra had Awakened as the Dark Lord, and for a few short years, everything had been… absolutely amazing. The orcs had had a real leader again, and Roka-Ra… Roka-Ra had had a sister.
 
She and Gral-Ra weren’t actually related by blood, as much as Roka-Ra wished it to be otherwise. The previous Dark Lord had merely been Roka-Ra’s idol and savior. She’d saved the younger orc’s life when she was still just a child, and then taken the younger female orc under her wing when Roka-Ra swore herself to the Dark Lord’s service.
 
It was all she could do, really. Swearing her eternal loyalty and allegiance to the Dark Lord Gral-Ra had been her only option after what the older orc had done for her. And Gral-Ra had taken her seriously, too. Her idol hadn’t simply condescended her with a pat on the head. She hadn’t left Roka-Ra to be kept safe with the tribe elders while she went off and fought the battles that needed to be fought.
 
She’d taken Roka-Ra as her apprentice. She’d treated Roka-Ra like a little sister and allowed her to train to be able to fight by her side. Roka-Ra hadn’t taken that opportunity for granted, no sir. In just a few short years, she’d grown in leaps and bounds both physically and in skill. In just a few short years, Roka-Ra had gone from a child to a full-fledged warrior.
 
When she’d Awoken with the Barbarian Job and shown her skill with it, Gral-Ra had taken notice and put Roka-Ra in charge of her own warband. From there they had held the humans at bay, showing them who they truly were and maintaining the borders of their orcish ancestral lands for the entirety of Gral-Ra’s reign.
 
Roka-Ra had never quite understood why her Big Sis didn’t take the fight to the humans properly, but ultimately it wasn’t her place to question Gral-Ra’s decisions. The Dark Lord had consolidated her forces, defeated all challengers to her leadership and authority… and then had them defend and only defend. It was strange, but Roka-Ra would follow her Big Sis till the end of the earth if she was allowed to.
 
Which was why it hurt so much that she hadn’t FUCKING BEEN ALLOWED TO! Letting out another roar, the Dark General brings her fist down upon the table in front of her, reducing it to splinters as the legs all break simultaneously and the whole thing collapses to the ground.
 
Damn it… damn it all. Tears prick at Roka-Ra’s eyes as she’s forced to remember the last time she saw her Big Sis. Gral-Ra had told her how impressed she was with how far Roka-Ra had come. And then she’d done the unthinkable… she’d promoted Roka-Ra to Dark General. It had immediately made Roka-Ra the youngest Dark General in all of her Big Sis’ forces. Admittedly, she’d known at the time that she didn’t have anything on the other power houses that Gral-Ra had at her disposal.
 
But it was still a tremendous honor, and one that Roka-Ra had gleefully accepted. Orcs didn’t abide by human concepts like humility and sheepishness and self-deprecation. If Gral-Ra thought her worthy of the title, then Roka-Ra was worthy of the title. It was what came after the promotion that left Roka-Ra unsure of whether or not she’d lived up to her Big Sis’ expectations.
 
As one of Gral-Ra’s Dark Generals, the Dark Lord had left Roka-Ra in charge of the orcish tribes while she focused on commanding the overall might of the Army of Darkness that had flocked to her banner. Something Roka-Ra had been all too eager to do… right until Gral-Ra had died a week later. The Dark Lord, slain in single combat against the Destined Hero. At least Gral-Ra had managed to kill her killer right back, but that didn’t make it any better. Roka-Ra had still lost her Big Sis that day.
 
In the nearly two decades since, Roka-Ra had done her best to do right by their people. She was still Dark General, and still the toughest fucking orc there was. With her Big Sis gone, Roka-Ra had had to carry the last responsibility Gral-Ra gave her. The leadership of their race. Unfortunately, Roka-Ra had quickly realized it wasn’t nearly as fucking easy as Gral-Ra made it look.
 
She might have been a Dark General, but she wasn’t the Dark Lord. Mustering the tribes to avenge Gral-Ra’s death was a nice dream and all, but they’d splintered under Roka-Ra’s tightening grip just as quickly as this table had splintered under her fist. The harder she’d tried to hold on, the more rapidly it had all fallen apart. In the end, a couple of small skirmishes against the Church’s Paladins was all it took for the orc tribes to decide fighting the Holy Empire wasn’t worth it again.
 
In her weaker moments, Roka-Ra was forced to admit they were right. They couldn’t destroy the Empire. Not without the Dark Lord.
 
And yet… and yet, Roka-Ra still wanted to fucking try. No, more than that, she wanted to fucking kill this new Destined Hero with her bare fucking hands. A half-orc?! A FUCKING HALF-ORC?!
 
Another violent scream rips itself free of Roka-Ra’s lips as the female orc damn near doubles over, her veins pulsing from her neck, her muscles flexing and bulging, and her hands clenching and unclenching. The orcish blood rage is threatening to take her over, but she holds it at bay through sheer strength of will. There’s not much other furniture in her tent to destroy unless she wants to ruin her bed, and she’s thankfully able to control herself enough to not go that far.
 
Even still, it’s an insult beyond measure. Gral-Ra was their first orcish Dark Lord in who knew how long. The first Dark Lord to truly care about the orc people. And not only was she cut down in her prime, but the next Destined Hero was a fucking half-orc. It was like some sort of sick joke.
 
… She’d kill him. Roka-Ra had already decided as much. This Destined Hero would die by her hands, or she would die by his. She would not dishonor the memory of her Big Sis by aiming for anything less.
 
That said, all of this would be much easier if they had the Dark Lord on their side. The ancient conflict between the Dark Lord and the Destined Hero was legendary for a reason. It was said that both Jobs were so damn powerful that unless you caught either one with their pants down really early on, you couldn’t hope to defeat them without the other at your back.
 
Roka-Ra’s intelligence on this half-orc Destined Hero had him out in the woods surrounding the Capital of the Holy Empire hunting human bandits of all things. She immediately saw it for the trap it was, of course. There was no way the Empire would allow a bandit problem to get so bad that it was that close to its Capital. They were trying to draw her out… or more likely, they were trying to draw the Dark Lord out.
 
If the Dark Lord had been Awakened in one of the Church’s Chapels, they would have already sent word about it to every corner of the damn Empire. They wouldn’t have been able to resist bragging that the Destined Hero had already defeated the Dark Lord, proving the fucking ‘justice’ and ‘righteousness’ of the Holy Empire once again.
 
That they hadn’t… meant that the Dark Lord was still out there somewhere. And that meant that the Church was using the Destined Hero as bait, letting him seemingly go out on his own with an incredibly small party, but keeping him close enough to the Capital that Roka-Ra didn’t doubt there was an entire contingent of Paladins waiting nearby to swoop in the moment that the Dark Lord showed up.
 
She couldn’t afford to spring that trap and risk never getting close to the Destined Hero himself. Nor could she afford to let the Dark Lord, whoever or wherever they were, fall into the Church’s clutches either. Roka-Ra’s only option, therefore, was to do what she had just done, to make good on what she just set in motion. That being… raising a ruckus.
 
Mobilizing the tribes would be an arduous, irritating affair. Some of the orcs would fight her tooth and nail about picking fights with the Holy Empire, but with the promise of a Dark Lord out there somewhere, they would inevitably fall in line for at least a little while.
 
Roka-Ra could only hope that the news of orc attacks along the border settlements of the Empire would be a far more attractive prospect than hunting down the Destined Hero when he was so close to the Empire’s Capital. If the Dark Lord was a fucking idiot, then they would fall into the Church’s trap and it would be another generation before they saw a new Dark Lord.
 
… But if the Dark Lord proved to be half as intelligent as Roka-Ra’s Big Sis had been, then they would recognize the orcish attacks as the rallying cry it was and eventually join up with them. In the end, all the Dark General could do was wait and see.
 
Staring down at the ruins of her table, a single tear tracks down Roka-Ra’s face as she trembles with raw emotion.
 
“… Don’t you worry Big Sis. I’ll avenge you. I swear it.”
 
All this time, she’s just been surviving, following her Lord’s final order and doing her best to do right by their people. But now… now she had a chance to do more. A chance to kill the new Destined Hero, a stain on their people’s honor, and maybe finally take the fight to the Holy Empire at long last if the new Dark Lord proved to be worthwhile.
 
Roka-Ra wasn’t going to let this opportunity pass her by.

-x-X-x-

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