Rather than the thin plume of gray that tended to lead to a campfire, the smoke I saw a few days later looked like a storm cloud rising on the horizon.

I’m… not walking that far. I thought. The smoke cloud was massive, but also likely ten miles away by my best guess. And I had no idea what it was. Those were my excuses for ignoring it and enjoying my afternoon, but evidently they didn't work, as a town rider showed up.

“Sir Cutter,” He dismounted his horse near my home, “Forgive the intrusion, but I’ve been sent to receive you. There’s an orc raid on a town a few miles east of here, and we’re to join with the relief party on the way.”

“I’m not sure I recall signing myself on for jobs like this.” I raised an eyebrow.

“Er-, Lady Caro told me to collect you. If you wish me to return I may…” The soldier hesitated. He was clearly just the deliverer of news.

“I’ll go.” I sighed, “The lady seems the type to ‘shoot the messenger,’ so to speak. Just let me grab some things.”

“Ah- yessir.” He blinked at my perception of Caro, and I went inside to change.

Orcs, huh? I’ve a feeling we’re not in Texas anymore. I chuckled to myself.

“Arin! Apparently I’m going out to kill some things or something, so I’ll be back eventually.” I called into the living room. She was there reading a book about gardening I had, and enjoying the comfort of my leather recliner.

“O-oh.” She looked up, “Is that safe?”

“Doubtfully, but I’ll be armed.” I said, “And if I get to kill stuff it will increase territory.”

She still looked worried, but made no move to protest. If she would’ve, I’d have denied the messenger, but as she didn't I continued to prepare.

I threw on some sturdy boots and a more durable pair of jeans, kept up with a western gunbelt I had used to cowboy LARP at the shooting range many times. There I hung my single action as well as extra ammo. I grabbed some loaded magazines for the Mini-14 to shove in my jacket pockets, and slung the rifle, ready to go.

The guardsman looked at my weapons with confused curiosity, but made no move to comment. He mounted his horse and helped me hop on behind him, which was surprisingly difficult considering the size of the beast.

We moved quickly and quietly through the woods, which were just thin enough to allow us through without wacking our faces on a branch every second. It had been quite some time since I’d ridden a horse, the last time having been at a ranch in my high school days. The revolver at my side definitely felt fitting, but the butterflies at what we were riding into had me wishing it was a more… practical pistol. In the words of the venerable Johnny Cash, it could “shoot as fast as lightnin’ but it loads a mite slow,” though mine wasn’t a cap and ball.

(Author’s note: if you know what song this comes from without a search you get an imaginary gold star)

After about ten minutes, according to my wristwatch, we broke the treeline and emerged on a packed dirt path heading southeast, pretty solidly in the direction of the village being raized. We continued down it at a trot until we reached a caravan of mounted soldiers. I recognized the armored form of Lady Caro, but did not see the guard captain.

I estimated there to be about fifty men in the group, all of whom were wearing chainmail and helmets with a crest on the back. The pattern was that of a pair of antlers surrounded by a wreath of pine needles. Each guard was armed with either a spear or a bow, and all of them had swords in scabbards at their sides.

My ride brought me to the side of the narrow road and to the front of the caravan, where Lady Caro rode next to a standard bearer holding a green banner with the same pattern as the helmets. Tied to the standard bearer’s mount was another horse, saddled but riderless.

“Can you ride, Sir Cutter.” The lady asked me through her helmet. The visor was up, but it still changed her voice slightly.

“We’ll see.” I said as we pulled off to the side so I could switch horses. Riding was easier than I had remembered, likely because my mount was able to just follow the others.

“All we know is from a rider who escaped the raid.” Lady Caro started without greeting, “He claimed to have seen thirty orcs, as well as a shaman."

“And when was that?” I asked.

“About forty minutes ago. We sent our rider for you as soon as we heard the message.”

“And what exactly do you need me for?” I asked.

“Durson said that you killed those goblins with devastating magic.” She said.

“Fair enough.” I nodded.

“But if you don’t mind my asking, what exactly is that thing on your back?”

“Probably that ‘magic’ you just mentioned. It’s a weapon, truthfully.”

She nodded and looked the rifle over from her mount.

“I hope it does the damage he described then. You’ll be guarded, but understand this is a risky endeavor regardless.”

“You are the one who invited me.” I dipped my head, “But do tell your soldiers that if there’s a really loud ‘bang’ noise, that’s me.”

She relayed the message to another, who spread it to the rest of them.

“What’s the village like?” I asked after a minute.

“It’s called Blackwood.” She started, “It used to be a mining town, but after the pits dried up they took to logging. According to the last census a hundred and ten people live there, but most aren’t of fighting shape. If there truly are thirty orcs, they wouldn’t stand a chance.”

“Huh.” I nodded my head. I had no idea whether the orcs of this place would be the hulking bodybuilders fantasy generally depicted them as, or something more akin to the little goblin’s I’d killed before. Either way, I steeled my stomach for the possibility of gruesome sights.

We rode at a brisk pace. I wanted to enjoy the forest sights on the way, but my nerves got the best of me and my focus remained on thumbing my revolver’s grip. The rifle was surely much more dangerous, but something about a handgun was always nice and reassuring.

I heard the noises before I saw the sights. I was ushered to the back of the fighting force as they moved into formation, but could hear guttural yelling through the woods as we came across our first building. It had once been a one story, likely one room cabin, but now all that stood was the stone chimney. Everything else was a burning woodpile on the ground. Also smoldering, a few feet outside of the building was a headless corpse. It took me a second to identify because its shape had been lost to the flames, but the broken axe next to the body’s former hand made me guess they went down fighting.

My stomach churned, but not in a nauseous sense. The emotions I felt were the kind that one doesn't know what to do with, so in that nature I just tightened my grip on my rifle. I had yet to see the enemy. We kept moving, and around a bend in the path a few hundred feet away we came into view of the village. There were likely around thirty small buildings around a wide street, but only four were anything more than rubble. The rest just billowed smoke into the sky, making my eyes water. At the end of the town road was a rocky hill, at the base of which was a large stone door. Surrounding it was a mass of orcs.

The orcs were about what I’d expected, but significantly less censored than what I’d conjured in my mind. Most of them were around seven feet tall, with muscles that looked capable of peeling coconuts like oranges. Their skin wasn’t as green as the goblins had been, instead being more of a pale yellow that accentuated the ivory color of the three inch tusks that protruded from the bottoms of their jaws. Each held a clearly stolen weapon,

Most were unarmored. In fact, most were naked. All they tended to wear was a rawhide sash that held… heads. Most had decapitated, bloody heads hanging from their naked bodies. Savage was the word that first came to mind.

“Keep your distance, men!” Lady Caro shouted in a voice deeper than I thought sounded natural. Her soldiers shouted with response, and began to ride faster towards the mass of orcs surrounding the mine entrance.

The orcs had noticed us before her shout, and were already charging at a sideways trot. The mass of huge, naked pale yellow, men armed with bloody, battered weapons and evil, tusked snarls was the type that made routs happen, but the Livartown Guard faced the charge with stoicism.

As the two sides covered the fifty yards in between each other, the guard who’d collected me from my home, who’s name was Horry I came to learn, led me to the right, accompanied by four other mounts and riders.

About ten yards before the first line of riders met the orcs, they broke off to the left and right, with the men closest to the green horde spearing the unarmored hulks as they passed. The full force of cavalry sent the spears deep into the chests of those the attacks landed on, but also wrenched them out of the grasps of their wielders. After the first pass, three orcs were grounded, with two others injured. The cavalry used their speed to gain distance, leaving the tusked warriors empty targets in the center of the street.

The tactic had only worked because the orcs had failed to spread out in their first charge and the dirt central road was long enough to allow the riders to circumvent any direct contact with the monsters, but it seemed it wouldn't work again. Though they didn't look the brightest, a deep call sounded outside of the horde telling them to spread out, and they obeyed.

“That’s a shaman, find him!” Caro shouted.

I saw about half of the calvary spread throughout the ruined buildings, using speed to not be tracked as they hunted for the orcs leader. I wondered why the soldiers didn't just shoot the orcs with bows, but that question was answered when I saw the few who tried’s arrows literally get ignored. It seemed that the orcs wore no armor because their muscle was the armor.

I shivered and kept my rifle handy. I knew that if I fired now, the concussion may well prohibit the men next to me from hearing orders.

As we were looking for stray orcs to kill, the sounds of fighting echoed through the ruined village. Occasionally I heard a very human scream or a horse’s dying whine, and felt a deep sense of anger and fear in my chest. The bodies of villagers lay brutalized along our path, and my anger grew to a depth I didn't know it could when I saw the bloody form of a child laying in a flower bed.

“I’m dismounting.” I said.

“Sir- that would be horribly foolish.” Horry shook his head.

“I can’t fight on horseback.” I said curtly. “Ride on. I’ll be fine.”

“My orders weren’t to leave you.”

I frowned, but knew that to be true. If I continued on foot, it could jeopardize the lives of those that rode with me. I’d have to lose them if I wanted the freedom to shoot.

A few seconds later, on top of one of the few remaining buildings a blast of red smoke exploded with a whoosh. Standing there as it cleared, was a short orc with beads hanging from his tusks and spotted furs on his shoulders. I guessed him to be the shaman.

The shaman hooted and hollered from his perch, yelling orders at his men below. Though guttural, I could understand them, and they amounted to “kill the horse bastards and take their heads.” Not the best leadership, but the idea of something like that controlling a raiding force like the one we fought irked me.

I wanted to shoot him, but there was no way for me to get a bead on him at the distance we were from horseback. It was while I was looking up and fantasizing about putting a hole in his head that I found myself removed from my horse.

A great blow to my chest took me completely by surprise, and I found the ground rising up to meet me faster than I could think. My lungs felt like they’d been popped like a balloon, and as I took a gasping breath in the dirt I found a massive green hand spread across my chest. The orc was even taller from the ground, and his disgusting phallus hung much closer to me than I appreciated. More frightening though was the club raised above his head.

In a split second moment of terror, my right hand went to my hip and I drew my pistol. I saw the visible confusion on the snarling orc’s face at the action, just before I blew out the back of his head. I rolled out of the way to avoid his falling body, but was unable to dodge the viscera falling from the sky. It peppered my back and neck in a nasty feeling of wetness, causing me to shudder.

My rifle was in the grass about five feet away, but right behind it were two more orcs that had been hiding behind the corner of a building. My entourage of soldiers were still trying to rear their horses around about ten yards away, but wouldn’t be able to get to me before the other green bastards.

I felt the familiar four clicks of my revolver’s hammer as I leveled it at the closest orc. He was still in a daze at what had happened to his friend, so when my bullet tore through his stomach and severed his spine, he fell without forward motion, quietly gasping in shock.

“Die human!” The other yelled as he took a running step forward.

I fired twice, both shots not being as lucky as the one that downed his friend. He now had two holes in his torso, but he kept coming. The orc’s lips curled up in a fierce battle cry, but I interrupted it with two more shots and two more clicks of hammers. The final shot felled him.

I was already ejecting spent casings as I darted to my grounded rifle. Scanning the area around me indicated that I was distant from any to do me harm, but my shaky hands reloaded as quickly as they could anyway. My Colt had saved me and I wanted it ready to do so again.

“Sir Cutter!” One of my soldiers shouted as he made it to me. I had just ejected my last shell.

“I need a few seconds!” I yelled over ringing ears. Even so, I heard the moan of the second orc I had shot.

He was unable to move his legs, but he still tried to pull himself to me with his beefy arms. Though he still looked scary, at his distance he was harmless. I holstered my pistol and picked up the Mini-14, leveled it at his disgusting face and fired. The orc fell still.

“That’s a fierce weapon!” Horry yelled from behind me. I could tell his ears were ringing too.

“That’s not all of it.” I said through gritted teeth. The shaman was still on the roof, out of range of any of the mounted archers and far from the guard’s spears. I could reach out and touch him though.

I leveled the .223 rifle and fired, missing. The shaman’s head snapped towards me as though he’d known exactly what happened, but my next shot found center of mass and he stumbled from the roof. Good riddance.

Through the adrenaline I could feel my injured ribs aching at the slight recoil of the Mini, but decided not to worry about that in the moment and moved to run back to the town square. I couldn’t bear the dying shouts of the soldiers any longer.

“Sir Cutter!” The guards behind me yelled, but they could do nothing but follow me as I made for the fighting.

I fired at any orc I saw, but only had safe angles on a few. My gun forbade any from getting close to me, but also gave me increasing worries of tinnitus with every shot. I wished I had brought ear protection.

When I made it back to the main road the battleground was stained with blood. Many more orcs lay on the ground than guardsmen, but the sight of men I’d seen living lying cold made my heart fall into my gut. What looked like about half a dozen orcs were grouped up with their backs to a half felled wall, riddled with arrows and injury. The green bastards were still fierce, but the calvarymen were able to keep their distance and keep up the harassment, keeping the orcs on the defensive. I looked around but couldn’t find Lady Caro.

I heard further shouting coming from around a corner and went to check it out, finishing some down but living orcs with quick rifle shots as I went. It seemed the battle was coming to a close.

A group of ten guardsmen was riding a circle around the largest orc I’d yet seen, except this one was fully armored. If not for the tusk protrusions in the bastard’s helmet I’d have thought him to just be a massive man. The armor was covered in blood, but as I watched he seemed to just shrug off spear blows and arrows, and even caught the spear of a guard and ripped him from his horse, cleaving him from hip to shoulder with a massive one handed sword. The soldier didn't even have time to scream.

“Pull back!” Caro came around and started charging at the massive orc herself. She held no true weapon, but rather just the staff I’d seen her carrying on our first meeting. It didn't look like it could do anything, and a pit in my stomach appeared as she charged the armored beast.

She still had the reach advantage, and upon what looked to just be a tap from her staff the raider was launched from the ground. What musume weighed four hundred pounds was just thrown backwards ten feet, where he rolled half that distance and came to a stop. I saw Lady Caro continue her ride but slump into her sattle, straining to stay balanced. Two of her soldiers rode up alongside to support her.

The crumpled form of the orc however, rose without aid. He was clearly hurt, and his breastplate had a softball sized dent in the left side. Blood was leaking from his helmet, but still he stood. I could see the soldiers around grow discouraged, but they did their best to keep up with their harassing attacks. The spears, though, just continually slid off the armor.

What the hell is that made of?

I gulped at the idea of fighting that orc, but steeled myself and made my way forward. If I let the spearmen continue, more would likely be killed, even as fast as they were.

“Pull your men back!” I yelled at Caro. I couldn't tell if she could hear me. “I’ll kill him!”

I yelled a few more times and got her attention, to which she nodded at the soldiers next to her.

“Pull back!” The man yelled in a voice much louder than my own. The soldiers obeyed.

As soon as my backdrop was clear I fired. I was thirty yards away, but I still saw the spark as the bullet went through the orc’s breastplate. I couldn’t see his eyes, but the surprise in his body language made the expression easy to visualize. I gave a grim smile and fired again.

Bang, bang, bang, bang, I emptied round after round into the orc, each one staggering him. On the fifth, he fell to one knee and the sixth sent him to his hands. I was ten yards away now, and took my time for my final shot, right through the top of his head. The boom of the rifle echoed through the village, and save for the clang of the armor falling to the ground everything grew still.

I held the rifle up for another second, but when it was clear the massive creature wouldn’t make any move to rise, I approached.

The back of his currase was filled with outward facing dents. My bullets had penetrated the armor’s front plate, the muscle that I’d witness halt arrows, and nearly broke through to continue their journey. I kicked the orc in the helmet, and it rolled off, revealing the bald, pale head of the dead raider, with a small neat hole in his scalp. He was surely dead.

I looked up from my kill to see the surrounding soldiers looking at me in awe and curiosity, but I simply slung my rifle and began walking back to the main street. I was still royally pissed at the raid, but wanted to look for survivors. I said nothing as I walked back.

The town was now quiet, and I was silently counting orc bodies as I walked. Including the ones I’d killed on my way over, I counted twenty seven arrow and spear-ridden corpses of the green bastards. That was close to thirty, but I couldn’t be sure they were all dead.

Leaving a pit in my stomach were the seven corpses of guardsmen that I also counted. Each was dead, and in a state that varied from just bloody to only recognizable by the presence of destroyed armor. Those orcs were strong, and I was severely thankful that I had been able to draw my pistol before the one who’d hit me could get his second blow in.

Eventually, I came to the place where I’d shot the orc shaman off the roof. There, on the ground was his crumpled and broken form. He was bleeding out of a hole in his stomach, with two broken legs and a shattered hand, but was still breathing. When I walked near him, he looked up at me and smiled. Smiled.

I drew my revolver and pulled the trigger. There was no bang, only the click of the hammer. I had yet to refill the cylinder.

And so I reloaded. One cartridge at a time, I reloaded. Staring the orc in the eyes the entire time. There was fear behind his broken smile, but I didn’t care. At six shots full, I aimed again, right at the bastard's chest.

One click. Two, three, four. Bang! One, two, three, four. Bang! I fired and cocked the hammer, listening for each of the four Colt clicks. I emptied the cylinder that way into the orc shaman. He’d died by the second shot, but that wasn’t my business. He deserved six, and so that was what I gave him. He probably even deserved more.

……..

I returned home three hours later. The town guard asked me if I’d liked to have stayed long enough to collect on the reward from the orcs I’d killed, but I denied. I wanted nothing to do with them.

Inside the former mine shaft that the orcs had surrounded when we’d arrived were survivors of the raid: thirty five women, seventeen children, and two old men. Everyone else had been butchered or was missing, likely captured. After seeing the wounded, the traumatized and the brutalized, I wanted nothing more than to go back home, so that’s what I did.

Coming up on my familiar hill was about when the adrenaline of fighting wore off enough for me to feel the pain in my ribs and back. It was a sharp, throbbing pain that made every deep breath agony, and every step of my mount just made it all the worse. Lady Caro had offered to send me with an escort, but as they had seen that I could handle myself and the soldiers were needed there, she let me leave alone.

“Tom!” I heard Arin cry when I crossed the threshold. The barrier had made it all the way to the trees at the base of the hill from that fight.

“I’m back.” I said softly. The inhale required to shout would have been agony.

“You’re injured?” She accused when she got close. There was nothing but worry in the sweet nymph’s eyes.

“It’s light.” I lied. “I’ll look myself over when I get inside.”

I took the horse as close to my house as possible, and nearly broke looking up the stairway to the front door. Each step was hell. About three stairs up, after seeing my plight Arin came up behind me and gently helped me up. I had cringed, expecting the assistance to bring even more pain, but somehow her touch was light and soothing. I gave her some of my weight.

I didn't make it to my bedroom when I got inside. I dropped my rifle by the door with a thud, and did my best to gently fall into the long couch in the living room. As soon as I lay, Arin rushed to help me remove my shirt.

Just from the feeling I knew I was black and blue all over, but the nymph’s gasp did more than reassure me of that fact.

“I’ll go- I’ll go get some water.” She decided. Arin rushed off to the kitchen and I made no move to respond.

Images of the brutalized townsfolk danced through my vision. Bodies, headless and burnt. Dangling skulls hanging from the orc’s disgusting forms. Bloodied and crushed soldiers, leaking viscera through their broken chainmail. I wanted to vomit, but knew the pain that would entail.

Arin returned with a wet rag and a glass of water. She slowly put the cup to my lips to drink, but it tasted sour from the bile in my throat. My kind caretaker gently laid the cloth across my chest, and its coolness soothed me greatly.

I lay there on the couch, dazed for some time, unable to sleep. Arin took care of my equipment and brought me whatever I requested, making no move to ask about what happened while I countered the raid. I couldn’t get the emotions of anger and sorrow for those lost out of my heart, and when they showed themselves through tears Arin just put a gentle hand on my shoulder, saying nothing, but giving me her presence which was all I needed.

Eventually I did sleep, comforted by my friend’s care and the familiarity of my home, and when I awoke those indescribably horrors seemed far away.

“Arin?” I sat up. I saw her sitting in a chair she’d pulled near the couch.

“I’m here.” She smiled gently.

I looked down to find that a blanket had been laid over me, and when I pulled it aside the bruises over my ribs were only slightly darker than the rest of my skin.

“How long was I asleep?” I asked.

“Through the night.” She answered. Outside the window I could see the orange light of dawn.

“It… doesn’t hurt?” I asked. Poking myself in the chest I felt almost nothing.

“You’re home.” She said, “Being home is always healing.”

I nodded. It was true that I was physically healed much faster than should have been possible, but I was more at ease mentally as well. I wondered if the healing applied not only to my body, but to my mind as well.

“Arin, you’ve… never really been around people.” I said, “How are you so able to be- well, be social?” I had been curious since I’d learned it was the forest that raised her, but she was oftentimes both wise and personable, things that folk who’d been socialized in much company often struggled with.

“The curse of being a nymph.” She sighed, “My body has grown through the encouragement of nature’s magic, but my heart is still very much human. My kind has been… jealous of those who grow in company, only because we have the urges and feelings and wisdoms of the other races, but without the opportunity to act on them.”

“I see.” I nodded solemnly. It must’ve been a lonesome way of living.

“But I had a job.” She straightened her back. “The valley was my charge, and it satisfied my need of company.”

“How does it feel now?” I asked, “Not having the valley, but being stuck here with my land and I instead?”

She took a moment to think.

“I wouldn’t trade it for anything.” She said finally. “I’ve known nothing better.”

“I’m glad.” I let my shoulders relax. I could see the truth in her eyes.

We sat there quietly for a moment, before I realized something.

“Have you heard music before?” I asked her.

“Seldom. I’ve sung some songs an old hunter taught me but… not much else.”

I softly bopped myself on the forehead. I’d listened on headphones while I worked with Baum, but had never thought to share the sound.

I gently rose from the couch, still expecting pain but felt none. I still had no shirt, but didn't care and moved across the room to my old record player. I thumbed through the vinyls in the cabinet underneath and settled on one I thought would do well, and guided the needle to the specific song I wanted, knowing exactly where it was from enough plays to lightly mar the vinyl.

Then, the song started to play. I had chosen This Peaceful Sod by Marty Robbins. In my eyes, it was one of the most beautiful displays of emotion the old country singer had ever sung, and it had always been a favorite. It also seemed to have the effect I’d been going for, as quiet tears were pouring down Arin’s face.

“It’s beautiful…” She blinked.

I smiled. I thought that someone who’d grown her whole life in a valley would appreciate that song.

“You can play it and any other of my music whenever you’d like.” I said, and then explained how to use the record player.

“T-thank you so much.” She cried over a smile.

I just grinned and let her enjoy some more music.