Heir of the Great Clan

Somewhere, where no other living beings would dare to visit was a volcano. One that's been said to be where the first fire spirits to be born. A place synonymous to destruction and death. That volcano was surrounded by charred mountains that all had smoke coming out of them. There were no living beings. There were only charred boulders, rocks, and more rocks. There was no sign of life. No being dares to visit because it's been said to house one of the world's most powerful creatures, a dragon. The volcano that was surrounded by charred mountains was constantly letting out billows smoke, yet strangely was very calm. The only interesting thing that took place was that the smoke takes different shapes depending on the direction of the wind. However, below the mountains, deep in the heart of the volcano was a chamber. In that chamber lava flowed like rivers through different pathways through the volcano. Its walls were shining red from the heat. In that chamber laid a gigantic shadow. It laid there slumbering. Every time it breathed, fire escaped its nostrils and blow into the walls dying the entire place red. It was enjoying its slumber, but it wasn't long before a voice disturbed it.

"Rima." the voice called.

"…" however, there was no answer.

"Rima, I know you're awake. Answer me." the voice said.

"…" however, no one answered.

"…" The voice calling said nothing, but its irritation was clear.

"Last I checked, it took you millennia to create such a comfortable home. I wonder how long it will take to make another like it." The voice continued.

"…" No answer came to it.

"Now you, whoreson son of Voddarr, slay your sloth or I shall come and turn you into a vagabond." the voice shouted in its rage.

"Such a pest." replied another voice but contrary to the other voice, this one was gruff and grumpy. The voice of a man, an annoyed one. "What do you want Nydhorth? I'm still sleepy. State your business and leave me be." the gigantic shadow replied as it opened its big yellow and red eyes.

"So, you were awake." replied the womanly voice that's been calling for him.

"I don't have time for this. State your business and disappear. I AM SLEEPY." the grumpy voice replied again, clearly unhappy.

"Ok. Turog wanted me to ask you if you've felt anything on your side."

"…No, he still slumbers." he replied in a melancholic voice.

"Ok. Thank you. I'll let him know." she replied.

"It has been a while since we last spoke. At least a millennium, right?" She asked in a friendly manner.

"Nydhorth, this is not going to become a conversation. You will go away, and I will sleep." He rudely refused her.

"What a shame. I heard Innor was looking for you. He's been so lonely as of late. I shall keep him company since he appreciates my presence. I have plenty to talk to him about." She replied in what seems to be defeat but the shadow in the cave shivered.

"Nydhorth, why don't we chat a little? It has indeed been too long since we've talked. How have you been?" He replied in all friendliness but the sorrow in his voice was apparent.

"Oh no dear Rima, I wouldn't dare get between you and your sleep. I know how much you like your rest."

"Sleep is unimportant when it comes family. Let's talk dearest sister, it's been far too long." Rima tearfully forced himself to say.

"Well, if you insist." Nydhorth replied with a sigh as though she had no choice but to keep her brother company. She started telling him of all her frustrations.

•Northern Mountains•

Meanwhile, in the northern mountains, things were about to get lively. The northern mountains are home to the fiercest and strongest faction of orc on the continent of Eozor, The Great Clan. To begin with, orcs in general are known to be barbaric, stupid creatures that only chase after strength and battles. With their green skin, the intimidating tusks protruding from their lower jaws, their giant frames that measure up to twice that of an ordinary human, and their muscular and heavy bodies are enough to make even well trained soldiers to shake and run for safety. All those just for an ordinary orc. Northern orcs on the other hand are known to be superior to an ordinary orc in every aspect: size, strength, intellect, and everything else that would make a man fear an orc. Contrary to ordinary orcs tribes that live separately from one another, the Great Clan includes every single orc that resides in the northern mountains. It is ruled by the Great Chieftain, an orc that no orc, or any other living being on the continent would dare to cross. Well anyone in their right mind that is. That orc today will be making a decision that will affect the future of the Great Clan greatly.

In the great chieftain's village, a half orc was making his way to the great chieftain's chambers. As he walked through, everyone who noticed his presence put their right fists on their chest and utter the words, "Pride, honor, and strength." he didn't have all the time in the world, so he didn't stop to respond to everyone. He simply put his fist on his chest, and they all understood. Although he's a half orc, the only difference between him and another orc was that his skin is the same color as that of a human's. Everything else about him was that of an orc. Orcs are known to have huge frames and even among them, he bore an impressive one. Two pairs of tusks protruded from his mouth as he walked. He arrived in front of the meeting hall that was guarded by two orcs in typical orcish attire. Orcs usually dressed in animal pelts around their waists and their tops would be bare, they were always accompanied by their weapons; the females would cover their chests. The guards separated their heavy and worn halberds to let him through. He opened the door to see the giant frame of the supreme ruler of the northern orcs, The Great Chieftain, Gul Ozirrid, the Raging Mountain. The great Orc sat on a simple throne made of stone with a great axe riddled with dents and scratches leaning against it. The half orc got on one knee and saluted.

"Pride, honor, and strength to you Great chieftain."

"Pride, honor, and strength to you too Varthurg." the chief replied.

"Do you know why I've summoned you?" he asked as he stroke his long-braided beard.

"I do not." Varthurg replied.

"I wanted to resolve a couple of issues since you were here. The sooner the better."

"My blood, bone, and flesh are the clan's. Please command me and your issues will be no more." Varthurg replied with his fist on his chest.

"You speak like a true orc now. I am proud." he smiled which looked like he grimaced and was thinking of something evil.

"…" Varthurg didn't reply.

"Well, let's get these issues resolved." The massive chieftain said and proceeded.

"Of all my children, you're the strongest and the smartest. With you as my heir, I can see that the clan will thrive. Are you ready to shoulder the clan's honor?" he asked as he stroke his long and braided beard.

"Chieftain… I'm afraid I am not worthy of such an honor. Even with my strength I won't be able to protect it. Half of me isn't of orcish origins. I…" he quickly tried to protest before he was interrupted.

"What defines an Orc Varthurg, war god of the battlefield, Son of Gul Ozirrid, the raging Mountain? What did you learn when you earned your tattoos?" he asked sternly.

"Not all orcs are orcs. Orcs are proud, to be proud, orcs need honor; to protect his honor, an orc needs strength. An orc without strength has no honor, an orc without honor cannot be proud, and that is a dead orc."

"That is correct. Have you lost your honor?"

"Chieftain, how can one lose their honor if they have yet to discover what that honor is?"

"You're still young, it will come to you. Let me ask you another question. What does it take to be a great chieftain?" the chieftain asked as he changed his posture to seat up straight as he emitted great pressure over his son.

"A great chieftain bears the honor of the entire clan and its survival." he answered as he was taught since he was little.

"Have you bled for the clan's honor?"

"I have."

"Have you fought for the clan's survival?"

"I have."

"Who sired you?"

"The Great Chieftain of the Northern Mountains."

"Very well then. I stand by my decision!" He expressed with certainty.

"Although I do stand by my decision, your eldest brother disagrees. To resolve the situation, as per tradition, we will host a duel in the arena. Your brother should be waiting there for you. Anything can happen in a duel, remember that lives can be taken."

"The other issue can be resolved after the duel." after saying what he wanted to, he gestured him to leave.

Varthurg carried his giant frame off the ground, bowed and headed off to the arena. When he got there, his older brother was already waiting. There were orcs all over the Arena sitting down waiting for the show to begin. There are always duels between orcs because they're so prideful. They don't take things back so things always escalate into a fight.

Northern orcs are on average 2 meters tall. Though he's not as tall as his father, Varthurg is 2.5 meters tall. His wide and heavy frame overshadowed that of his brother who's only 2 meters tall. He's not quite as big either. However, just like any other orc, he looked very menacing, perhaps even more so than other orcs. He had a scar on his forehead and his tusks were accessorized with iron rings. He held a weary war-hammer that looked like it's seen its fair share of battles in both hands waiting for the great chieftain to appear along with some of his other siblings. Not every sibling will be there. Most of them spent all their time hunting and fighting. Frug was only present for a debriefing before heading into battle when he overheard that his father was planning to give the ruling rights to his little brother. He was furious and confronted his father about it. To resolve it, the chieftain proposed to end the discussions with a fight. The winner gets everything while the loser has a pretty high chance of dying during the fight, very typical of orcs.

After a couple of minutes, the Great Chieftain came along with some of the other chieftains under him. He looked at their head shaman and gave him a sign to begin the duel. The withered shaman walked forward and enters the arena. He looked thinner than an ordinary orc but he was just as tall. He wore a set of black pelts. His face looked like the face every mother would bring up to their children whenever they were being disobedient; he looked like pure malice. He slammed his staff at the center of the arena. The resulting 'boom' gathered everyone's attention and he began with an evil grin on his face.

"Pride, honor, and strength to all of you! Today, we're here to witness a moment that history shall remember 'til the end of time! Two warriors! Two brothers will duel each other for the scared and honorable duty to carry the will of our people when our great chieftain retires. Two orcs today face each other for their beliefs! Two orcs today face each other so that that they can be proud. Two orcs today face each other to keep their honor! Two orcs today face each other to prove their strength! Two orcs face each other today! But only one will emerge victorious! Two orcs will clash but there can only be one heir to our great clan! One heir of the great chieftain! Today, let them show us Which one is worthy of this great honor!" After every sentence the crowd get wilder and louder. Everyone is on the edge of their seats screaming, cheering for their future leader. Both contenders have great reputation. Both have proved themselves on the battlefield multiple times. One of them is a relentless machine that drives fear in the enemy with his thirst for battle and tactical mind. The second, is a towering giant even among the orcs. Just the sight of him makes the enemy shiver in fear. He by himself rivals armies and he always fights bare handed. On the battlefield, wherever he shows up, only victory awaits. As the shaman is about to introduce them, the arena quiets down a little as they know it's about to happen.

"I, the lead shaman of this great clan introduce to you: the slayer of generals, The raging hammer of destruction, the annihilator of our foes, Frug the Merciless!!!!!" The arena exploded with excitement the moment he finished saying the words. And then, once again they calmed down for the next introduction.

"I introduce to you the ravager of armies, the unsurmountable wall of the North, the war god of the battlefield, the unsurpassed martial presence in our Great Clan, the barehanded reaper of the Northern Mountains, a devastating Shaman that even I acknowledge, Varthurg the Gentle!!!!!!!"

"Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!!!!" a deafening explosion of cheer exploded in the arena that far exceeded that of Frug. The whole arena was shaking. The sea of green cheering together, the sweaty bodies of orcs that may not have showered in a few days to those that haven't for a while mixed together to create something that could be quite deadly to those with a sensitive nose. At this moment no one cared.

"I didn't know he was that popular." The chieftain mentioned as he looked at his only daughter, a gesture to ask her to tell him what she knew of the situation. She was the smartest when it came to brains among her siblings. She was wearing a simple furry top that covered her chest and pelts like every other orc.

"Well, he has a lot of deeds under his belt ever since the treaty became void five years ago. He gives pointers to the chovi (young ones) when he has the time, he's very respectful to the oroks (elders, old people) and the other kusa (warriors), and he's humble, so everyone likes him. They just don't approach him because he's always keeping everyone at bay. He's the most respected of all of us. Eldest brother doesn't like that because he's been putting a lot of effort into his image and he still couldn't win against someone who hasn't put any effort at all." she replied his gaze and smiled.

"That does sound like him. The problem is that he's too attached to his witch of a mother. I'll have to find a way to help him escape her clutches." the chieftain said with a grin on his face as he stroked his beard.

"Good luck with that. He's only ever expressed anger twice against another orc and both were because they insulted his mother. If you try anything that might remotely be harmful to her, he'll come for your head." she said with a laugh, but she meant every word and even the chieftain acknowledged it to be the truth.

"Relax, he still has some growing to do before I consider something like that. She's a great help in helping him grow for now. However, "

"Shh, it's about to start." She said without batting an eye and effectively shut the great chieftain up.

The shaman Kurdan lifted his staff as high as he could and slammed it in the arena. A moment after, he disappeared and left the arena to the two warriors about to duke it out. He carried his old body to the side looking all excited.

Frug lifted his weary hammer and swung it right for his opponent's head. Varthurg took half a step back to dodge it and hit the hammer head from below with his palm covered with mana. The hammer sprung up into the air wanting to fly off. The action took Frug off balance as both of his arms wanted to fly off along with the hammer. His chest was wide open and it's not a chance that Varthurg wanted to let pass him by. He rushed forward and reached in front of Frug as though he teleported and slammed his chest with his palm "Bam!". He was sent flying to the opposite side of the stage. He held onto his chest and corrected his posture. He held onto his hammer while studying his opponent who was slowly moving towards him. Varthurg slammed his right foot on the stage and disappeared from Frug's sight. He reappeared at his side with his right fist sinking into his side. Frug groaned in pain. He was about to take a step back to have enough room to swing his hammer. However, Varthurg stepped on the foot he was about to move back. That took away his balance once more. Before he could react to the situation, Varthurg's elbow had already made contact with his chest. While he was reeling from that, Varthurg's fist found his face and he was sent flying off the stage with his hammer still in his hand.

Many who haven't seen Varthurg fight before were taken aback. Usually orcs have very rough and aggressive fighting styles. However, he was graceful; it was like he was dancing. Instead of it looking weird and awkward for his huge body, it added to his flare. Even the way he used his mana, his life energy was smooth and gentle as opposed to how an orc would usually do it. Orcs made use of their physical strength whenever they fight. It looked barbaric at first but most of the time it's controlled barbarity when it concerns good fighters. Varthurg's movements seem light, which made them fast. Yet they were still heavy and didn't lack in strength.

"How is he so fast for someone so big?" the girl asked her father.

"He must've put a lot of efforts in training his body to that degree. Probably something he picked up from his mother. When it comes to technique, Frug doesn't stand a chance. He gets too close too fast and Frug's hammer is too big to swing in such close range. He'll have to find a way to keep him away to have a chance of winning." he replied still with that evil grin on his face.

Frug got back on the stage with his hammer in tow. He looked at his opponent that he might have underestimated. He grunted, growled, and rushed his opponent as he swung his hammer towards his torso this time. He put mana in his weapon to increase its power. His movements were wild and deadly. Varthurg easily dodged it and took a step forward. Before he could get too close, Frug slammed the hammer on the ground. The resulting 'boom' sent splinters from the stage forwards stopping Varthurg in his track. Once the dust settled, one could see that Varthurg had several small cuts on his body. Frug smiled and swung his hammer at his opponent vertically to smash his head. However, Varthurg easily dodged it. When the hammer hit the ground, the same thing took place and Varthurg suffered from the resulting debris cutting into his body, causing several of these cuts to. Frug smiled and swung his hammer while his opponent was defending. When the hammer finally landed on Varthurg's body, something weird happened. Instead of him feeling pain or being sent flying, there was a loud bang and hammer bounced off, which caught Frug by surprise. Before he could catch himself, something heavy caught his face. Varthurg's huge hands grabbed his face swung him like an old rug before slamming him on the ground. He bounced and rolled away from his brother to escape to safety.

"What happened? Why did the hammer bounce? It had enough power break him." The chieftain's daughter asked what was on the young warrior's mind.

"Let's just say that your third brother's a genius. What he accomplished is not something that many warriors can do even after decades of training. I should pay more attention to our chovi. You know that you can use mana to strengthen your body, right?"

"Yeah. So?"

"It's the same principle but much more advanced. Instead of focusing mana through his body, he projected it outside of it. To make a shield of some sort. It's like a shell. Depending on his skill at manipulating mana it can be flimsy or impenetrable. He's skilled. I made the right choice after all." he smiled deeply, which looked as though he was thinking of carving out someone's body

"So, he's more of a monster than you are? Why can't my brothers be normal?" she said with a sigh.

As they were talking, Frug release a whole lot of mana to try and pressure Varthurg. Unfortunately for him, Varthurg's control over mana far surpassed what he could do. Not only that, Varthurg had an absurdly large pool of mana in his body. Frug's mana covered his whole body and half of the stage. As he walked forward, his instincts went crazy and he jumped back to the edge of the stage. Right after, Varthurg's mana exploded all over the place. He swallowed the whole stage in his mana. He widened his stance and rushed forward. When he arrived in front of Frug, he started attacking. He was throwing flurries of punches that looked light but were very heavy. and they were being blocked and dodged by Frug. Although he was struggling with them, he was still defending himself quite well. Although Varthurg was using his bare fist, and his punches were being blocked by the hammer, the one who found himself in trouble was Frug. He couldn't understand how the hits were getting so heavy. And how they were so powerful although he didn't have any room to get the momentum needed to throw his punches. 'Bang! Bang! Bang...' hits were coming after hits. There were no pauses. He didn't have a single moment to rest as he was attacking, yet Frug was the one getting tired. Suddenly, he could no longer keep his arms steady and they were shaking. If it kept going the way it was, he had no chance of victory. He allowed himself to get hit so that he could create some distance. The moment he was free, he swung his hammer as he was retreating. Varthurg ducked and lunged himself forward. He arrived right in front of Frug before his feet could touch the ground. He brought his hammer back and caught Varthurg's neck and now he held him. And was about to crush his neck. Varthurg took a deep breath, gathered some mana in his throat and roared. The sound exploded and everyone in the arena covered their ears. There were some who even fainted. Those were the spectators. What about Frug who was right in front of him? Where his ears were only inches away. His hammer fell on the ground and his eyes rolled back as he fell. The resulting thud echoed in the arena and gave everyone the answer for the duel.

"Waaaaaaaa!!!!!!!!" The crowd started cheering for their victor, for their future Great Chieftain.

As they were cheering, Kurdan, the shaman suddenly appeared in the middle of the stage with his staff held high and walked towards Varthurg.

"Are you sure you want to let him live? He might grow to be a larger pain in your side than you imagine." He asked while looking at the fainted orc on the ground.

"I am. The great clan has need of his skills until then. When the time comes, if the time comes, I'll put him down." Varthurg replied as emotionlessly as though he was talking about something that didn't matter.

"He's arrogant." his sister said to herself.

"No, he's confident." Her father corrected her.

The crowd was still going crazy with shouts and cheers. Kurdan stood in front of him with a smile and asked him to kneel. Kurdan was at his side and Varthurg turned around to face him and his eyes were digging into the shaman's. they were both standing close enough for Kurdan to smell him. Then again, orcs have a good sense of smell. The shaman was looking up to see Varthurg's eyes and he could see the defiance shining in them. He smiled and he repeated himself, "Kneel." and mana started to fluctuate in his eyes causing them to shine a faint red color.

"My knees only touch the ground to show respect to the great chieftain and my mother. Any other will have to force me with their strength." Varthurg replied with determination in his voice.

"It's a ceremony, you're supposed to get on your knees. It's tradition." Kurdan was getting nervous. He's never faced a situation like before. He looked at the chieftain seated at the very top of the spectator stands. He smiled at Kurdan as if it wasn't his problem.

"I made a vow that I cannot take back. My honor depends on it. There is nothing I can do." the young orc explained himself so the Shaman wouldn't take offence to his defiance.

The moment he mentioned his honor, Kurdan stopped pressing the matter and simply sighed. He tapped his staff on the ground and the ground beneath him rose a little, giving him a footstool so that he could reach the young orc's forehead. Varthurg's long braided hair was tied back as it is for most orcs. He stood there waiting for the shaman to give him the tattoo to match his new status. But for the next few moments, nothing happened. The shaman sighed and thought 'Do I have to be the only one who study our traditions? Those idiots who think of nothing but fighting all day will cause me to bear a dishonorable stressful death.' he sighed as he looked at the chieftain in the eyes trying to give him a signal to come down.

"I think you have to go down there." his daughter said when she noticed the look on the shaman's face.

"He shouldn't need me to come down right now. That would only be necessary if he was planning to give him the new tattoo." he smiled proudly as he explained

"…" his daughter looked at him speechless. After noticing the look on her face he finally noticed.

"Oh, he's doing it now." he quickly got up and made his way to the arena smiling at the shaman apologetically.

"Young one, please be sure to study our traditions, or embarrassing things like that will take place. And it makes it hard for the shaman." He sighed

"Now I will need some of your blood great one." he said as he pulled a dagger from his furry cloak.

The great chieftain gave him his palm. He ran the dagger across his palm and dipped his finger in it as the blood flowed. The chieftain was a gigantic orc measuring 3 meters. Not many could reach his size. He's always lowered his head to see others. When he looked at his son, his heart was relieved that his successor was an amazing orc. His duty now was to groom him into an orc that can bring the clan to new heights.

Varthurg took off the pelt he was wearing over his upper body and undid the leather wraps that covered his hands and arms. To everyone's surprise, he was covered in tattoos. Tattoos are usually given when one's made contributions and when one's status is increasing. The tattoos can be different for everyone. As they're magic tattoos, the shape they take is different for everyone. Apart from his face, the tattoos were making an armor around his body. He had circles at the joints and everywhere else, it looked like scales. On the left side of his chest, there was a ring. The tattoos on orcs were not just tattoos for the sake of it. They are magical in how they added to the user's strength. When they're activated, they give a boost to the wearer. In shamans' cases, it aided in casting their magic.

After Varthurg finished, with the great chieftain's blood, Kurdan made four dots on his forehead contrary to the line that circled the Great chieftain's head. After that, Kurdan spread both of his arms as he started chanting something under his breath. He sounded almost demonic and menacing. As he chanted, the four dots on Varthurg's forehead started to shine red. The shine also had a chain reaction on the rest of his tattoos. The scales lit up also in a red color and started to dim out along with the four dots. And they turned black as they did before but with the addition of four black dots on his forehead. After he was done, the shaman visibly shook and was about to fall but the great chieftain caught him. He supported himself with his staff and let the chieftain have the rest of the show.

A thundering roar emerged from the chieftain as his tattoos lit up the entire village shook. He looked at his son and had him roar in the same way he did. The resulting roar was in no way inferior to the chieftain's own. The crowd was silent as they were paying attention to the ceremony. They were fully satisfied, and the chief was thrilled at this point. Varthurg kneeled with a fist on the ground with his head bowed. The chieftain said, "Rise. And from today, your knees shall never again touch the ground. Guard your honor well for you no longer live for just yourself. Now you live for the Great Clan."

After saying those words, He rose from his knees and the chieftain cried out. " Today our lesser light has been born! Welcome your moon! Welcome the heir of your great Sun! Welcome Varthurg, heir to our fathers' legacy! Heir to our great clan's pride, honor, and strength!" After he finished, the crowd's deafening roar exploded. For the remainder of that day and night, the orcs partied. They ate, they drank, they sang until they could no longer stand. All to welcome the heir of their great sun.