Breaking Providence (Original Fantasy)

“General!”
 
Roka-Ra comes awake with a snarl, pulling a dagger the size of a shortsword out from under one of her furs. Luckily for the health of the orc who’s dared to wake her up, he’s smart enough to have kept a distance and is several feet away, looking tense and ready to dodge if she seemed inclined to throw the weapon held in a tight grip at him.
 
But no, she gets herself under control swiftly enough, letting out a disgruntled growl as she rises from her bed of furs and sheathes the dagger. Not even hesitating, she moves to begin putting on her armor.
 
“What is it?”
 
The hesitation of the orc messenger tells her everything she needs to know. More bad news. More reports of sabotage, no doubt. When he just shuffles from foot to foot in silence for a moment too long, Roka-Ra growls and barks out a command.
 
“Speak!”
 
“… The weapons, General!”
 
Roka-Ra looks at him sharply, eyes narrowed. Luckily, he doesn’t need to be encouraged further to do his damn job and relay the information he has for her.
 
“D-During the night… several of the weapon racks were sabotaged! Spearheads cut off; arrows broken in two! Axes cracked along the shaft!”
 
Of course. Of-fucking-course. Already finished with her armor, Roka-Ra stomps over to the great big slab of metal that acts as her sword and sheathes it on her back. Then, she stomps over to the messenger, who by now is trembling outright. Not exactly orcish behavior on his end, but then the Dark General knows exactly how intimidating she can be.
 
“Show me.”
 
He shows her. Obviously, she doesn’t have him take her around to every sabotaged weapon rack in the large orc camp. But the ones he does bring her to show the depth of the sabotage. And all around them are angry orcs, snarling and growling at the loss of their weapons. But then, it’s not like Roka-Ra was expecting them to be fucking HAPPY about this latest bullshit.
 
Corralling two thousand orc warriors wasn’t fucking easy by any stretch of the word. Roka-Ra had gotten very little in the way of sleep these past couple of weeks, especially as she’d been taking on challenge after challenge from damn near every Chieftain who arrived at camp. It was what it was, and so far she’d proven victorious against every last challenger. But even still, it was irritating in the extreme to have to prove herself time and time again. If Gral-Ra was still alive, she wouldn’t have to do so. But then, if her Big Sis were still alive, they wouldn’t be in this fucking situation to begin with.
 
Some of her would-be challengers had even forced her to kill them. Her hands were no longer clean of orc blood, and that infuriated Roka-Ra even more. But there was nothing for it. Not every orc would accept a clean defeat. And she couldn’t very well have enemies at her back if she was going to make war upon the Holy Empire.
 
Of course, not everyone had even come to her call. Most had, Roka-Ra was pretty sure. More than most, even. This camp, these two thousand orcs… they didn’t hold a candle to the Orc Warbands of the past, but they represented the vast majority of her people’s remaining military might. There probably wasn’t more than another two thousand orcs in the entirety of their old territory. What the Holy Empire called the ‘wildlands’ had been all but depopulated to make this Warband possible.
 
And how had the Holy Empire responded to her challenge? How had they responded to the news of her and her Warband forming in the South? They’d sent a single fucking Crusade. Only five hundred Paladins. Roka-Ra could still hardly believe it. The audacity. The fucking mockery!
 
Obviously, Roka-Ra had known when she declared the formation of the Warband that she was signing her and her people’s death warrants.
 
… But she just couldn’t help herself. That letter had infuriated her beyond fucking words. A pack of lies, clearly meant to play on her emotions. They were trying to use her Big Sis against her, trying to make her fall for their fucking tricks. Roka-Ra refused to be so easily led around by the nose. She refused to play their fucking games, to walk into their fucking traps.
 
From the moment she’d read that letter, Roka-Ra had decided that she was going to go out in a blaze of glory trying her best to destroy the Holy Empire. If the Dark Lord showed up somewhere along the way, fucking great, but she wasn’t holding her breath at this point. Even with that said though, she was still downright insulted by the poor show of force the Empire had sent against them. Five hundred Paladins? Her and her warriors would grind them up into fucking paste.
 
Roka-Ra had been so confused by the lack of a true martial response to her Warband that she’d held her forces back these past few days just trying to figure out what the trap was. That, it seemed, had been a mistake. Because just three days ago, the fucking sabotage had started.
 
She still didn’t know where it was coming from. No one, not even her shamans, could figure out how the enemy was doing it. She didn’t think the Paladins had it in them, and frankly she still wasn’t sure they did. Could it possibly be a third party? She didn’t know, but what she did know was that whoever it was, they were bleeding her Warband by the day.
 
It started small. Almost unassuming, even. A few tainted cooking pots had laid out a few hundred warriors after they ate poisoned stew. At first, it was even assumed that the stew was just badly prepared. It happened, especially at a time like this. But one of her shamans had found what was undeniably a poisonous herb had been added to the cooking pots in incredibly large amounts.
 
The cooks in charge of the stews had all been rounded up and interrogated, but none of them broke and none of them admitted to treachery. As far as could be discerned, they didn’t have anything to do with it.
 
After the stew, the saboteurs had turned into assassins. Creeping into the tents of higher-ranking warriors, slitting their throats, and leaving their bodies to be discovered later in the morning. It baffled Roka-Ra how they kept getting away with it without even a single one being discovered. It had to be a sizable group, given how they moved, how much ground they could cover in a single night. Not even the most motivated saboteur could possibly accomplish what was done so far by themselves. It was, frankly, ridiculous.
 
Roka-Ra had taken to sleeping with one eye open, but the saboteurs and assassins were smart. They hadn’t ever so much as approached her tent as far as she could tell. They’d also stayed away from the shamans’ area as well, despite the orc shamans being instrumental in healing those orcs caught in the first sabotage so they would be fighting fit once more.
 
And now there was… this. The latest in a string of sabotages. This time, the saboteurs had come for their weapons. Hundreds of spears and axes ruined and damaged, thousands of arrows broken… all in a single night. It would have been downright impressive if it were happening to anyone but her and hers. As it was, Roka-Ra was fucking livid by the time the messenger was done showing her this latest sabotage.
 
“What… what should we do, General?”
 
Truth be told… she didn’t know. It was becoming increasingly obvious that they couldn’t just sit around waiting for the Paladins to spring whatever trap they had going. A single Crusade was such a pitiful amount that Roka-Ra HAD to believe they were pulling some sort of bullshit. Only, her shamans had been using their Farsight abilities to scout the Crusade’s camp for days now, and not seen anything like that. They’d also scouted out all around them and couldn’t find any other camps or traces of soldiers for miles.
 
Of course, the orc at her side wasn’t asking her what they should do about the overall situation. He was asking what they should do about the lost weaponry. And to that… Roka-Ra also didn’t have an answer. At least, not a good one. In the end, she growls out a bad one all the same.
 
“Repair what can be repaired and salvage what can be salvaged.”
 
It’s not a real solution. She knows it and he knows it. And so do the orcs who are now weaponless due to this latest sabotage. Luckily, she’s called out a moment later by another developing situation that she’s able to throw her focus behind.
 
“General!”
 
Turning, Roka-Ra finds herself looking at one of the higher ranking shamans in the camp. Stomping over, she gives him a respectful nod.
 
“Do you have any new information for me?”
 
Grunting, the shaman slams his gnarled staff into the mud before him and reaches up to stroke his exposed grey chest hair as he nods his head.
 
“In fact, I do.”
 
Roka-Ra’s eyes light up at that, and she stands a little straighter. Have they found the Church’s trap after all? If they know where the additional forces are located, then maybe…
 
“As you know, we’ve already confirmed that the Princess is in the Paladin’s camp and that she appears to be in charge of the Crusade.”
 
Slowly nodding, Roka-Ra scowls. Yes, that was a piece of information that only made the Dark General more certain of this all being a fucking trap. Not only was the Princess of the entire Holy fucking Empire identified in the enemy camp, but she was supposedly seen giving orders and directing the Paladins as though she was their leader.
 
It was laughable to say the least. There was no way that Roka-Ra had formed an Orc Warband two thousand warriors strong, the first such Warband in centuries, only to have the Holy Empire send their sole heir to the throne at the head of a Crusade of Paladins only five hundred in size. Pull the other one, really.
 
“After a long morning of further collective Farsight casting, we have confirmed that the Crusade in front of us is all there is. There is perhaps a chance that reinforcements are still further away, or that they’ve sent this sacrificial force to delay us while they build up their defenses outside of the range of our Farsight.”
 
… No, that didn’t make sense. For that to be true, not only would the Empire be choosing to sacrifice a dozen towns that were currently within a day’s march of Roka-Ra’s Warband, but they would also be sacrificing their Princess. If the Princess weren’t here Roka-Ra could believe it was just a sacrificial force meant to lull her into a false sense of security. But as things stood, she just couldn’t believe it.
 
“… However, we HAVE been able to confirm something new as of this morning. There’s been a new arrival in the Paladin’s camp, albeit potentially a few days old. A half-orc that matches the description of the new Destined Hero. We believe he has joined the Crusade and plans to fight by their side in the coming battle.”
 
Roka-Ra freezes in place. The blood in her veins goes ice cold. Suddenly, everything makes much more sense. The Destined Hero. Of course. How could she be so blind? Him and that damnable letter… they were why she’d done this in the first fucking place! The whole reason she’d formed this Warband!
 
No wonder the Church had only sent one Crusade. No wonder the Princess felt safe rushing to the frontlines to face the orcish threat. The Destined Hero was a threat like no other. One that even Roka-Ra wasn’t sure she would be able to beat. Oh, she would certainly try. Happily so, even. If she got the chance, she would crush that lying bastard’s head between her hands and not lose a wink of sleep over it afterwards.
 
But with the right weapon and armor, the Destined Hero could leverage his abilities to be a true terror on the battlefield. Roka-Ra didn’t doubt that her warriors could handle the paltry force of Paladins they were up against. But the Destined Hero? He would cut through her people like a scythe through wheat.
 
“What… what does the Circle of Shamans advise?”
 
Her voice sounds faint, even to her ears. Meanwhile, the wizened old orc in front of her lets out a grunt, pulling his fingers from his chest hair and yanking his gnarled staff from the mud.
 
“You called this Warband together, Roka-Ra. You have browbeat dozens of Chieftains into submission and gathered the vast majority of our people into one force. What does the Circle of Shamans advise, General? The Circle advises that you Fight.”
 
The emphasis on that last word shakes Roka-Ra out of the last bits of her momentary stupor. She immediately realizes how stupid she’s been. For a second, she had allowed herself to be filled with self-doubt and confusion. For a moment, she had even considered disbanding the Warband and ordering her people to flee.
 
… But no. They still had the advantage for now. Even the Destined Hero could not guarantee victory in a battle this lopsided. However, if Roka-Ra let things continue as they were, she had no doubt that the sabotage would stack to the point where it all became untenable. They would lose by a thousand cuts, and likely never even see the battlefield.
 
Meeting the old shaman’s eyes, the Dark General slowly nods… and reaches for her sword. Pulling the hulking slab of darkened metal from her back, the orc turns and lifts it high into the air over her head with one hand, drawing the eye of every orc around her.
 
“ENOUGH! PREPARE FOR BATTLE!”
 
Perhaps other races would have considered that a lackluster speech. Perhaps they would have expected flowery language about how they were going to overcome their enemies and destroy them utterly. But Roka-Ra and her Warband were orcs. Her warriors didn’t need to hear anything more than those four words.
 
A mighty ROAR rises up through the camp, until Roka-Ra’s message has reached every last corner, every single tent, every damn rock. Due to the sabotage, not every orc has a weapon. Due to the assassinations, some don’t even have leaders. But they ALL have that same hungry look in their eye, and as they begin to pile out of the camp in a massive horde, Roka-Ra leads the way, her obsidian black armor quite the eye-catching thing amidst all the furs and bared green chests.
 
She can only possibly lead from the front. She can only possibly be the first one into battle. Not because she needs to shore up her position after the last few days of sitting on her hands while saboteurs had their way with her Warband. Not because she has anything to prove. No, Roka-Ra leads from the front because it gives her the greatest chance of running into the Destined Hero before anyone else does. And for his attempt at deception, for his claim to be her Big Sis’ son… she’s going to put her sword through his fucking skull.
 
To their credit, the Crusade responds in record time to the Warband’s advance. By the time they cross the mutual No Man’s Land between their two camps, all five hundred Paladins can be seen in their shitty gleaming armor, their weapons glowing with holy light. Roka-Ra comes to a halt just outside of bow-range and her Warband stops behind her.

Glancing back, the Dark General doesn’t see anything like the formations and crisp regiments that the Paladins have created in front of her. Her Warband is a mass of roiling green flesh, a tide of orc warriors who all have something to fucking prove. Many of them aren’t even armed with anything but their fists, though that doesn’t stop them from growling and snarling, just as ready to fight as any other. A grin spreads across Roka-Ra’s face. She’s never seen a more beautiful sight.
 
Looking forward once more, the Dark General tries to locate the Destined Hero or the Crown Princess. Those would be her victory conditions. But she can’t see either of them, at least at first. Still, it’s only a matter of time. She’ll find them, if they don’t find her first. No matter how many Paladins she has to cut through in order to get to them.
 
Her lip curls upwards into an almost satisfied sneer and Roka-Ra points her sword at the Paladins’ defensive lines. Once again, she sees no need for a lengthy speech nor anything too flashy. This time, one word will do.
 
“CHARGE!”

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