"What is that mark on your forehead, Galdrum!?" Dorhal roared, his voice dominating and deep. He towered two feet above the two archers standing before him, his mere presence threatening.
"M-my lord... this is the mark that the player, Midas, has given me." The crossbow-man orc, Galdrum, said in a low tone as he lowered his head.
Dorhal’s eyes widened with surprise. He leaned back slightly, his toughness turning into shock. Then, he furrowed his two thick eyebrows together again.
"The mark of Midas, you say!?" Dorhal roared, "You mean to tell me that not only did the other four fall in battle... but that you two have also been sent back here with marks in your flesh? Like bags of meat thrown into the jaws of a crocodile?" His tone was low, but threatening.
It felt like standing with a knife to your throat.
The two orcs gulped, their eyes unable to lift from the floor as they waited for their commander’s next words.
"It’s... good that at least two of you survived." Dorhal turned, his tone calmer than before, "But the fact that Midas..." He paused, thinking.
’After finding their trail, I sent my six strongest warriors to slaughter him and his goblin company... six high orcs should have been plenty for fifty random goblins. But that player... he means to slay most of them, and send two back. One with his arm chopped off, and another with a mark, as if to prove a point.’ He pondered in his mind.
"He’s confident now. Much more confident than before." Dorhal said, walking over to Galdrum and grasping the top of his head before lifting it up.
Galdrum flinched with fear before pausing, noticing his commander was only looking at his forehead.
Dorhals’ eyes were sneering, his face full of disgust, "He means to kill us all. To wipe us out." He said. Despite his anger, he surveyed the mark, searching for its meaning.
"An arrow with two wings, huh? Are you to ascend... Midas?" Dorhal scoffed, turning around and letting go of Galdrum’s head. "Erho!" He shouted.
A large orc ran over to him, clad in heavy iron armor.
Surprisingly, it seemed Dorhal was the one to wear the least armor. Only his legs were protected, his torso covered in a giant red tattoo. The tattoo depicted three dragons encircling each other, creating a perfect circle that surrounded his upper body.
"Yes, commander!" The orc addressed as Erho shouted, halting.
"How is the army looking?" Dorhal said in a low, serious tone. His gaze was piercing.
"T-they are ready, sire." Erho said, looking down, "In fact... they are all excited. The army is looking to feast upon the eastern mountains of Vineral. Upon Sergalas’s Cavern, once and for all!" His eyes widened, and a smile appeared on his face by the end.
"One quarter. That is the number of army men you must send to the base location of Midas, the player." Dorhal said, "Make sure to stomp it down. Not one soul should survive. Burn the surroundings... make it a hellstorm afterwards. A grave that no one shall visit."
Erho seemed to be immediately taken aback by this.
’O-one quarter!?’ He thought inwardly, ’Just who is... this player. Is Commander Dorhal wrong about him?’ He glanced into his commander’s eyes once more, ’No! That cannot be the case. He is not like... anyways.’ He shrugged his last thought.
"Understood, sire. I will make sure all of the orcs know their appropriate duties... and also that Midas will be a name soon forgotten." Erho said in a cold tone, exiting the scene.
Dorhal walked forward, staring at a mountain in the north. Many hundreds of feet above ground level, a series of steps led to a large fortress dug out of stone.
"When will you come out?"
...
Erho ran up to a ledge, his eyes opening wide to face the scene before him.
Over one thousand white orcs stood in formation atop a flat valley. Each one wore armor across their shoulders, knees, elbows, and other similar extremities.
"Ouuuf! Ouuuf! Ouuuf!" The massive army of orcs cried in a rhythm as their feet pounded on the floor like sticks to a drum.
The floor below rippled with vibration, a smile appearing on Erho’s face.
Upon his command, the army began to move.
Over seven hundred headed west, the rest heading southward toward Midas’s base.
Hundreds of orcs marched, some carried banners and others actual drums. Most wielded weapons of raw size and power. Axes and broadswords, maces and hammers, spears and bows, and the list went on.
"To the death of Midas!" Erho roared atop a boar beast several times larger than a normal boar. He thrust his broadsword into the air as he led the army southward.
*Fourteen Days Later*
Midas plopped down onto a log beside a small fireplace.
’I’m finally back.’ He thought, as dozens of goblins popped out of the bushes and began crowding his small, cleared-out base area.
Midas glanced over at his hut, his eyes suddenly narrowing as his brows furrowed.
’Wait... that guy.’ Midas had forgotten all about Dorian.
"Shit!" He pushed himself up, walking over to his hut and opening the door.
A wave of relief washed over him as he saw that Dorian was nowhere to be seen. The hut was empty, with only a few clothes left over.
The cloth was of fine quality. Nothing Midas could have made.
’It must be Dorians...’ He mused, ’I won’t touch it then.’ He turned, closing the door, ’But I doubt he left it there on accident. He meant to leave it there. To let me know that he isn’t gone permanently.’
"Home sweet home!" Gool said, walking over to Midas, "So what now? Are we to wait for Yemo and his crew to return before making our next move? I imagine the two messengers you spared have already arrived at the northern mountains many days ago. The orcs will have their next actions prepared." He said.
"If it took us about three weeks to arrive here, it should take Yemo and his group only a little more. His gang is small, so he should already be quite close." He said, "For now, everyone get comfortable. Make your own abodes around the area and see if you can fetch together food and water for everyone." He looked at Gool, "I’ll have you see to the order of the goblins for now. Make sure basic necessities are met."
Gool nodded without hesitation.
Midas turned, walking away.
"W-what about you? What will you do in that time?" Gool asked.
Midas paused, glancing back at the scroll holstered behind him, "I will find out if I can ascend using this technique."