All hell broke loose when Takarn smashed into the human line, and not for the humans.

Takarn and his men managed to clear the gatehouse before the humans sprung their trap, the rest of the orc infantry was not so lucky.

Takarn watched as liquid fire rained down on them from above, the gates of hell had opened and it didn’t look like they would close any time soon.

More or orcs were pushed into the fire by the momentum of their comrades, paying dearly for the fervour they had been whipped into, Takarn saw all of this before taking in his own situation with a look of horror dawning on his face.

The portcullis was lowering, trapping them in the city.

His orcs looked to him in varying degrees of distress. He looked to them and then to the human soldiers surrounding them in a semicircle backing them against the wall their comically long spears now looking far more dangerous.

They began to constrict, coming closer in painfully slow increments, but as they did a voice in Takarn’s head spoke once more, it had been dulled by the months of cushy military service and glory, dulled but never destroyed.

The slow hunter is the dead hunter.

Takarn’s body moved on its own rushing toward the wall of pikes grabbing one by the shaft before he could be impaled and ran toward its wielder now safe that he was past the weapon’s point.

His men, given heart by the actions of their commander moved as well to varying degrees of success. He saw Mivnev slip under the guard of one of the soldiers but past her he saw another orc impaled through the visor on a cold, steel point.

He rushed toward the young man behind the pike, the confidence of his scent now overtaken by fear as Takarn thundered toward him.

He grabbed the man’s arms pulling him off balance before punching down on his helmet, crushing it like a tin can.

Mivnev beside him tried the same thing, but for once in her life she had met her match, she had found someone faster than her.

The soldier lashed out with his shield, smashing it against her side knocking her onto the concrete, the last thing Takarn saw was her being surrounded by soldiers obscuring her from view. But from the wails he heard someone had finally found something that could make her scream.

Takarn fought like a crazed beast, smashing his way through the human lines taking wounds left and right but finally, with a final shoulder charge, an orc. His previously black skin now coloured red by his own blood broke free of the human entrapment with a roar and ran into the town.

Takarn ran for all he was worth away from the ambush, none of his squad had made it out of the battle, he was alone, trapped. Hirna help me. He thought

When he heard the sounds of footfalls slowly faded into nothingness behind him did he disappear into a nearby home, ripping the wooden door of it’s hinges.

The family inside screamed in terror as something from the pits of hell ripped away their door, his black skin dripping with blood, his eyes crazed and wild and his mouth set in a thin cruel line.

Takarn silenced them in the fastest way he knew possible, he crushed their skulls with his bare hands.

He slumped against the wall exhausted, I’ll only rest my eyes for a moment. He thought. Yes, only for a moment.

He said as the comforting blackness of unconsciousness overtook him.

-----

Evan Liasman POV

Evan ran through the streets in his new leather armour. Goddammit hands stop shacking! He thought furiously as he watched his wavering hands.

It was no use, no amount of will power could make forget that, that thing!

Skin as black as night, yellow eyes like a predator it had torn through the man beside him, crushing his head like an egg.

How can something like that exist?

“Boy, stop daydreaming, we have a job to do.” Said the grizzled veteran named Leofric.

They had been tasked with hunting down the rogue monster that had fled into the city, the same creature that was and would for many years to come haunt Evan’s nightmares.

They ran down the cobbled streets following on the path of a monster.

They saw what looked like the aftermath of an avalanche of splinters, a door had been ripped off its hinges and was now laying haphazardly against the opposite side of the street.

“Alright men, stay alert we don’t know what condition this beast is in.” Spoke Leofric as they all dropped into a low crouch, approaching the building more slowly.

What they saw when they entered made Evan immediately double over and vomit onto the floor.

Bodies lay headless all over the room, their heads having been seemingly exploded if the sheer amount of blood, bone and brain matter that littered the room’s walls was to be believed.

And there, slumped against the wall was an onyx skinned giant, covered in scars and wounds, looking like a fiend straight from the seven hells.

Carman, one of the four people having been assigned to this mission walked up to the beast with spear raised, preparing to plunge the weapon right into the beast sleeping face, but before he could Leofric grabbed his arm.

“The lord wants one alive.” He said blandly as if the scene of death didn’t affect him at all.

“You must be joking.” Said Carman in disbelief.

“Is that insubordination soldier?” Said Leofric in a quiet, menacing voice.

“No sir.” Grumbled Carman. And that was how a squad of four soldiers found themselves carrying a hogtied orc toward a lord’s hall, this was the strangest moment in Evan’s life.