Mor’iel had just finished his bath, and was putting clothes on his fit and slim body when an elf came to inform him about the arrival of Lys’en. She was Wal’en’s sister and she had brought with her more than four hundred elves.

He couldn’t keep a smile from emerging on his face, nor did he want to. Instead he quickly finished putting clothes on and ran down the stairs two and two.

Emerging in the Great Hall, he saw the new but familiar faces, and spotted one in particular amongst them. With a joyful smile he walked straight over to a female elf who was talking with Wal’en.

She turned her head in his direction when he called her name and met him with a bright smile, and then a deep and passionate kiss. Enlaced in each other, they barely noticed much else.

He pulled out from the kiss, and watched her face, slowly and gently stroking her cheek. She had black hair, and beautiful and deep blue eyes. A straight and pointed nose and full lips, perfect for kissing. In his eyes, a perfect face though other elves may find the nose a little too long.

“It has been a long time.” He said, his eyes nearly sparkling.

“It has.”She put her front against his. “We have many things to discuss, but they can wait...” She whispered sensually.

“Hmm.” He agreed. Wal’en dismissed himself quietly, with a little smile.

Mor’iel and Lys’en quickly went to his room, and the clothes disappeared in a flash. She laid down on the bed in a suggesting pose, and he joined her after having devoured her with his eyes, stroking and nipping and pleasing her.

They started gently but then it became rougher. After the loving, they lied enlaced in each other on the improvised bed, her resting her head on his chest, with their legs intertwined.

“I noticed your ring.” She said between two breaths, but she only received a grunt in response. “Have you started again?”

“No.” He said. “I have finished it.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, I should have been there...” She said, but he could clearly feel her joy. She was the one who had always helped him with his sorcery. She had helped him figure his powers out, and had been there for him. She had always insisted that he took the final step. She didn’t want to risk his death in the years to come.

He had always been reluctant, because of the pain associated of course, but he also feared the consequences of having a soulless body. In his knowledge, no sorcerer had ever attempted such a thing before.

“You couldn’t know. I rushed it because of the danger of going down to find the Oruks.” He explained. “Fortunately, I haven’t noticed any second effects.”

“Whatever happens, I will always love you.” She rose and sat upon his waist. He couldn’t help but star at her breasts, and her erect nipples which she proudly displayed with her back straight. He took his hands up and grabbed them, and began gently fondling them.

“I know. But I will have to leave in a day.” After a second thought, he corrected. “Or two...”

She let out a wonderful laugh, which resonated in his entire being, bringing with it happiness.

*

Mor’iel was riding East, to the cave which Wal’en’s scouts had located. The lands of Skandiva were hills and plains, with a few scarce forests and irregular rocks rising up everywhere.

He found the rock as Wal’en had described: a spearhead rising up in a curve, on top of a hill. A stream of water ran nearby, and he attached the horse with a long leaf so it could survive for a few days, with grass and water.

The cave was at first only a small opening under the rock, but then it expanded. He cautiously entered it, and found it empty. He walked through the cave and saw another opening. Venturing into it, he walked down a tunnel.

He emerged in another tunnel, much larger. A stench irritated his nose, which he tried to ignore. He decided to turn right.

He had been walking for hours, carefully memorising the path he had taken so he would be able to find his way back, when he encountered the first Oruk.

The oruk was small, five and a half feet tall, but large and strong. Its little yellow eyes focused on him, and its skin had a darker grey colour. In the left hand it held a torch, and in the right hand an axe. On its back there was a steel shield and it carried chainmail, as well as plate on the shoulders, shins and forearms.

The oruk warrior said something unintelligible but in a familiar tongue, and he understood some words of what it said. Then he realised. It spoke Tarnorian with a thick accent, though some words were definitely from another language.

“I come in peace. Show me to your chief.” He said clearly and articulately. At first the oruk tilted its head, and Mor’iel repeated a few times, after which it began nodding.

The oruk made him a sign to go before itself, and he obeyed, the caution was understandable. Nevertheless, he wasn’t defenceless; he had summoned his Loth and placed it between him and the oruk. If the foul creature tried to backstab him, he would immediately crush it without second thought.

But his precaution was unnecessary. The oruk led him though the tunnels, and after many hours of walking, at least half a day he estimated, they arrived in a bigger camp underground.

He quickly scanned it, and concluded that there was at least two dozen Oruks. All of them were warriors, with similar equipment as the first one though not exactly the same. They all stared curiously at him, interrupting their activities.

A fireplace where placed in the middle of the camp, and the smoke was escaping from somewhere in the ceiling of the cave.

They approached the edge of the camp, and the Oruk showed him a sleeping place.

It said something to him, and pointed at it. Mor’iel understood that they would continue tomorrow. He sat down there against the wall of the cave and pretended to fall asleep. He opened his eyes when the Oruk came again, and pleasantly saw that it was food it had in its hand. Some kind of root? He thought.

Sitting there for hours, he never let himself fall asleep. He could hold days without sleeping, and he didn’t trust them yet. There were simply too many unknown factors. Looking around, he noticed that they were talking together about him, throwing quick glances in his direction.

A lot of time passed, or maybe the whole night? There wasn’t really any way to know for sure, but an oruk came to him again. He wasn’t even sure that it was the same one, but he would bet on it.

He didn’t see any weapon in the hands of the Oruk, and he still didn’t see any hostility in its face. With a grunt he stood up and stretched, and then followed it again, except this time three more Oruks accompanied him.

This time they walked for half a day and he noticed that the tunnel went upwards. They emerged outside and a breathtaking view welcomed him.

It was a huge green vale with a river running down its middle, and he saw many square stone towers, and they were almost thicker than they were tall, he noticed amazed.

They crossed many fields, filled with a red plant. They told him it was named kod, and it was the root he ate earlier. They also explained to him that the towers were filled with thousands of Oruks. Actually, there were so many Oruks everywhere that he couldn’t explain how they were all nourished.

There must be hundreds of thousands.... He thought with amazement.

But many of them looked famished. From what he picked up through his travels, Oruk took eight years from birth to grow up, and twins were quite common.

Unfortunately for them, they were very short-lived creatures, with an even shorter lifespan than humans. After a while of going through this enormous city they called a vale, they arrived in the centre, filled with thousands of Oruks.

He received many curious gazes; he was after all a newcomer here, a foreigner that was seeking audience with their leader. When his guides had pushed their way through the populace, they stumbled upon a perimeter of guards.

Mor’iel, thanks to his height could see the throne inside and someone on it.

The guards didn’t let him in at first, but sent one of their own in through the wooden door, who came back after a few minutes with a nod.

They walked in the perimeter and Mor’iel emerged in the city’s square, which had in its centre a throne. A being bigger and bulkier than the other Oruks sat on it.

Mor’iel knew his kind. An Oruk Morgh, they were called, the elite of the race competing for the title of king. They were much fewer than the Oruks, and it was a rarity for one to be born but they made up for it with longevity similar to a human and superior strength.

“Intriguing. An elf has come to our Vale.” He said in a deep and raspy voice. “On what purpose?”

“To free you from this prison you call a vale.” Mor’iel said with a self-confident smile.

“If we leave this place, we will be slaughtered outside. You should know this, it was your kind that chased us from the mountains.” He snarled.

“I know very well what Gala’ad did. And I am here to rectify that. This time, you would have the elves at your side.” Mor’iel smiled grimly. “The humans are divided into many factions; one of those is on our side. We will destroy them one by one, and take back the territory your once lost.”

“That indeed sounds very endearing.” He paused. “Now what’s the real deal?”

“You get all territory south of Agnellia, now known as The Free Cities.” He smiled. “In exchange, swear your absolute loyalty to me.”

The Oruk Morgh laughed, and then stood up. He was easily seven feet tall, and had two slightly upwards curbed horns on his front head. He only had a skin robe hanging from his waist, with his muscular upper body being naked.

“We only respect strength, and you are weak.” He said waving his hand at Mor’iel’s thin body, compared to theirs.

“I am more powerful than you can imagine.” Mor’iel arrogantly said, crossing his arms. “And I accept challenges.”

The Oruk Morgh ruler smiled, and called out a name. Behind the throne, another Oruk Morgh walked out, while he sat down on his throne again, grinning.

“To one side gives up, or dies.”

Mor’iel just smirked. His enemy charged him, with a heavy axe over his head. Mor’iel didn’t move.

Then the Morgh reached him and swung down the axe at a terrifying speed towards his head. But it was abruptly stopped, hitting something two inches from his skull.

Mor’iel had summoned his Loth. With but a thought, he slapped the enemy and heard bones cracking, the Oruk Morgh then proceed to roughly land at the feet of the throne.

“You...” The King of the oruks walked down from the throne, and bowed down on one knee. An inexplicable pull tied the Oruks within hundred feet to Mor’iel’s will.

Oruks were a race sensitive to sorcery, the only race. Sorcery could bind their will to the sorcery, simply by touching their soul with the power.

Unfortunately for the sorcerer, only so many Oruks could be influenced at one time, and for a normal sorcerer it was maybe a dozen. But then again, Mor’iel was far more powerful than any other before him, and he could influence many more.

It became increasingly difficult with distance however, which was why he needed their loyalty. Seeing their leader and his warriors bow, all the subjects slowly did the same. As he witnessed the thousands bowing, he smiled, triumphal. This had gone even easier than he had hoped.

He had spent many years researching into this particular race, from the other sorcerers’ books and research. He had left the forest so many times, but only Lys’en knew that. All for this very moment.

He released the ruler of the Oruks, granting his free will back. “Now that you have witnessed my power, I can assure that my offer still stands. I will lead you to victory, and conquest. Do I have your loyalty?”

The chieftain raised his head, and slowly nodded with a warring smile full of pointed teeth.