The scent
was overwhelming in Mike’s living room.
The smell of his disease permeated Crag’s nostrils. He figured it was a scent he could at least
learn to ignore. Orcs do not feel pity,
but he did empathize with the feeling of weakness the Elder relayed to him the
last time they interacted. Crag felt
weak whenever he thought about his battle with Set’s army.
Mike asked
Crag to come to his house before the dagorhir meeting. Crag thought it might have something to do
with what Mike wanted to tell him before.
Namely, why Mike was so happy to have met Crag.
Mike
shuffled into the room from his bathroom and smiled at the man-thing. He sat on his leather couch as Crag sat on
the upholstered chair. The Elder human
leaned forward. “Crag,” he said. “I know what you are.”
Crag’s brow
furrowed. “What do you mean?”
Mike said,
“I know you’re an orc.”
“What do
you mean? I am a dwarf. You were the Dungeon Master,” Crag said.
“No, no,”
Mike said. “I mean, really. I can tell.
You aren’t human in any way.”
Crag was
unconvinced.
Mike added,
“Look, you don’t have to confirm or deny, just know that I know. But I have so many questions. I understand, it might be hard to trust a
human, especially if we are natural enemies, which I don’t even know because
I’ve never met an orc before. Just know,
I will never tell anyone who asks if I know an orc, because you have got to be
on the run from something to be here.”
Crag said
nothing. Mike said, “Look, when you’re
about to die, you take pleasure in everything you can. I have been a fantasy nerd my entire life so
knowing that there is still some magic in the world, it makes me so happy. I have read all of the fantasy books and some
books that aren’t necessarily fantasy and I always had a shred of disbelieve,
but this… this….” He breathed heavily
after the outburst. “This changes
everything for me.”
Crag
sighed. “I… suppose I should not deny
it. I wouldn’t necessarily say I am on
the run, rather I was forcibly exiled from my plane, Torxania.”
“So,” the
Elder said. “When you said Legend of
Torxania, that’s a real thing?”
“Imagining
a battle as a dwarf is far less interesting than fighting as an orc. Nothing against your story telling, but I
miss the blood thrown from an enemy as I cleave him with my axe.”
The Elder
shook his head affirmatively. “I
understand. It’s hard to measure up when
you’ve fought for real.”
Crag
relaxed back into the chair.
Mike asked,
“So why are you here? How did you get
here?”
Crag
related the story of fighting Set on the battlefield and being transported in
the middle of the battle to a parking lot and being discovered by Dionne. He left out the part about cutting Creepy
Toby in half. He was sure Mike wouldn’t
care. Mike might even enjoy a battle
scene on his own planet, but Dionne warned Crag against telling anyone so they
would not involve themselves with the crime.
“So,” Mike
said. “You need to get back to your own
plane and you don’t know how?”
“Yes,” Crag
said. “Absolutely.”
“Mike
stroked his long, brown beard. I have a
lot of books, like I said. Maybe I can
find something that can take you back home.
Gods, Crag, you being here confirms everything for me. I feel all the energy rushing through me and
I want to channel it all into something to send you back home. It feels insane, but it’s all true and I
don’t know how to handle it, but I’m going to try.”
Crag’s grin
was not scary this time, more of a friendly bottom teeth exposure. He was working on making his smiles less
terrifying.
Mike looked
at the leather strap on his wrist with the gold and glass medallion on
top. There were two black lines moving
inside it. Crag pointed at Mike’s wrist. “What is that?”
Mike said
with a half-grin, “It’s a watch. It
tells me what time it is.”
“Don’t you have
a sun and a moon for that?”
“We do,”
Mike explained. “Unfortunately, humans
in this realm want more specificity than ‘I’ll meet you at moonrise’ or ‘come
when the sun is highest in the sky’.”
Crag
grunted derisively. “Sounds like more of
an annoyance than a boon to your kind.”
Mike
sighed. “It really is.”
A horseless
carriage pulled into the driveway. Mike
and Crag saw it from the window.
“They’re here,” Mike said. “Let’s
go meet them.”
Crag
nodded. Mike stopped next to a door
along one of the walls. Upon opening the
door, it revealed a number of weapon-shaped items that Crag had never seen
before. “Here,” the Elder said. “Take some of these out with you.”
Mike pulled
out a few of the items and held them for Crag to take. Crag held out his arms like he was preparing
to take a heavy load, but the items were lighter than orclings just learning to
walk. The Elder piled item after item on
Crag and emptied most of the small room.
Mike, himself, took a few of the items and they left the house to meet
the humans outside.
Kermit,
Wrench, Fish and Minion stood with two males and a female Crag did not
recognize, but figured he would get to know.
Kermit and Wrench grabbed some of the items from Crag grinning. “Glad you could make it,” Kermit said.
“As am I,”
Crag replied. “What are these… things… I
am carrying?”
“Weapons to
play dagorhir with,” Kermit replied. He
passed some of the weapons on to the others, but swung one of them in his hand
back and forth. “This one, for example
is a sword. Here, you should have this
axe.” Kermit grabbed an item that looked
like a woodcutting axe in form only and extended it towards Crag.
Crag took
it by the hard end. He swung it into his
own hand. The “blade” part was squishy
and rebounded against the blow to his hand.
“What are
these made of,” Crag asked.
Kermit,
Wrench, Fish and Minion went on to explain the basics of dagorhir. The weapons were padded with foam. The battles were fast and strength was less
necessary than precision. If someone is
hit in the arm or leg, they cannot use that limb. If they are hit in the body they die. If the opponent hits them in the head the
opponent is disqualified.
Crag huffed
affirmatively, vastly more interested in this game than Dungeons & Dragons.
The orc asked,
“Where are Andre and Rant?”
Fish
replied, “We haven’t seen them. They
usually ride together and get here about the same time as we do, but who
knows.” Fish paused. “They could be mating.”
The group,
including Crag laughed. Another group
showed up, pulling their horseless carriage behind and emptying of human males
and females. The whole group went out to
the nearby field and started swinging their weapons to warm up.
Wrench
said, “Hey, Crag, do you want to spar?”
Spar was a
word and concept Crag was quite familiar with.
“Yes, let’s.”
Wrench
said, “Don’t worry, I made all of these weapons myself, they should hold
up. Don’t be afraid to swing as hard as
you can, just not for my face.”
Crag
huffed. “I am a trained warrior. I know where to aim.”
Wrench
stood in an open stance with his sword up and held at a short angle away from
his face. Crag was confident and his axe
was lower than it might have been in an actual battle.
“Ready?”
Wrench said.
“Ready,”
Crag replied.
A carriage
came in kicking rocks as it skid down the gravel pathway. Andre jumped out and behind him was
Teej. Crag stopped and looked at his orc
brethren.
Teej
rumbled towards the chieftain and said, “Yor fater mortar, Hedyr! (Your father
is dying, Chieftain!)”
Crag’s jaw
clenched and he handed his axe to Wrench.
He said to Teej, “Takkar mer fater, instar! (Take me to my father,
now!)”
Crag turned
to Mike. “I must go. There is trouble.” Crag got into the carriage with Andre and
Teej and they sped away.