1 birth of a legend

walking down 71st street in Tulsa Oklahoma. a man with a sad face and a lonely appearance, notices a loud screech behind him. as he turns the bright light of a large SUV is the last thing he sees. next thing he knows everything goes black. he waits for the moment his brain shuts down, all the wile thinking maybe he should have done something different with his life. he tried playing by everyone else's rules and never did anything for himself. during the wallowing thought the man notices a bright light in the distance. the light rapidly closes in. as the bright light became to harsh he closed his eyes and when he opened them again he saw the craziest thing he could think of. for some reason he was looking up at what had to be the most stereotypical idea of an orc, anyone had ever come up with. it was a large grayish green man with large gold rimmed eyes and a beard and top knot combo that made him look like a warrior. the mass of muscle stood up and smiled when he opened his eyes. welcome back Armel. glad to see you awake you have twelve hours to recover and i expect you to be at the training grounds with fangs bared. after speaking these words the orc walked off. after the orc left armel or rather colton, examined his own body. he had a body that looked like a high school powerlifter. powerful legs and arms with steel cable like muscles running through them. the only problem was his skin was green. like forest green. as he sat up quickly a searing pain in his brain arced through the rest of his nervous system. as he laid in the rough cotte sweating and panting the memories of the orc boy armel came through to him like a video on replay. one where you can use all five senses like you were there. i saw him growing up in a brutal village where combat strength was everything the weak were killed and discarded like trash. a world where he had to fight with his bare fist of ten years to eat everyday. the weak lost and starved. but through all of this he was strong and stood above the others like a war boss. then one day he was poisoned of all things. an or does not poison and orc either fights and wins or fights and dies. otherwise we do not die. that is the orc creed orcs do no believe in poison, it's a cowards way to fight. an orc warrior uses his hands or his weapon, along with his own battle experience to win a fight. even numbers are considered fair play for only the strongest orcs can shine in a horde of their brethren.

oddly enough when the soul of armel and mine passed away mine was ushered into the body of armel. so as i layed there for the next few hours waiting on sleep to take me, my brain played over my memories from armel of the customs and ideals of the orc village. it basically only had three rules. be stronger than whoever you fight. never disrespect a warrior's spirit. and never disrespect the shaman.

since he had learned as much as he could Armel decided to close his eyes and drift off to sleep. at dawn the sound a horn woke Armel up. unsure of when he was supposed to report to the training grounds, he rose from his bed and shakily put on his hide pants. and grabbed his sword which would require most humans to wield two handed. with his sword on his back he left the shack and stepped outside. using the original armels memories made his way to the training ground. through other sheer luck or destiny he made it to the training grounds ten minutes before line up. as he stood them he observed other incoming orcs to see if there was any difference to him. and he notices half of the orcs were grey and some were green on a few were both. the green ones like him seemed to be a bit stronger than the other colors. as he was digesting his surroundings he heard a loud sound and every orc on the field assembled in three rows of four. he was at the front of one of the lines.

with the lines formed and the young orcs quiet, the grayish green orc he saw when he woke up appeared from a tent to the right of the training field. and slowly marched in front of the crowd of young orcs. today you will all experience your first real battle with a weapon. if you can fight someone from a rank higher than you then you can begin forming your own hunting party. if you cannot you will be executed. after his proclamation a line of ten smaller orcs, well smaller than the grown adults, to the young orcs in the formation they were all terrifying existences. they were war boy scouts, the small game hunters for the orc village. the orcs classified as four ranks and three types. there are scouts warriors and wanderers, each of these three ranks are classified into ten ranks

the ranks are one through ten and each ranks is classified as low mid and high, for example a regular orc is low rank 1 which is what the young orcs were. the warboys in front of them are low rank 2. which a huge difference in raw physical abilities. these ten orcs could wipe out a small villages within an hour even a team of nights would want to fight these orcs. with the declaration of being forced to fight these orcs or be executed, the young orcs began to stoke their hearts for the coming battle. for an orc either dies in battle or he never dies..