Hulking over Simon was a greenish brute, towering nearly 2.5 m in height. His lower canines protruded slightly from his lower lips, showcasing his brutality. Scars dotted all over his body, signifying his status as an eminent warrior. His most curious aspect was, of course, the pulsating tattoos that covered all of his body.
Lines upon lines of deep blue drawings covered nearly every inch of his body. Pictures and glyphs formed across his body, moving animatedly for the briefest of seconds, before dispelling themselves and forming new ones. Simon could not help but feel mesmerized at the sight, forgetting the danger he was in. But the thing that drew in his attention was his race.
He was an Orc
Roooaaaarrrrr!!!
Hearing the beastly roar once more, the Orc looked up. "Huh, a tier-6 Sporisma. Little shit thinks he can come to my territory and act this way. Wait a couple of seconds, let me take care of this." Hoisting a gigantic battle axe, the Orc strode forward towards the Sporisma. What happened next though, blew Simon's mind away.
A tentacle struck towards the Orc's face, but got vapourised within 3 inches before his face. What stood in front was the axe itself, deftly turning and swirling in place. The Sporisma, enraged, lifted its burly arms, smashing them towards the Orc. Without batting an eye, he swung the battle axe, splitting the arms into two.
Now frightened, the Sporisma attempted to flee, but it was too late. Holding the axe with both arms, a golden energy radiated from the Orc. Channelling it, he directed it to the axe, where it began to glow brighter and brighter, until it was blazing as bright as the sun.
"Cataclysmic Split!"
In horror, Simon and Duncan could only watch in stupor as the fleeing Sporisma split itself into perfect cubes, fear still visibly etched into its face. But it did not stop there.
The surrounding trees began warping, their trunks bending until barely kneeling. Some of them even cracked, spitting into two. The land itself was no better. Rocks and mud began rolling down, vapourising once they reached the epicentre of the attack. The only reason Simon and Duncan survived was because the Orc never took them as his enemies at all.
They soon snapped back though, for the Orc had turned his attention towards them.
"Why the heck on Earadun are you here, you little runt?"
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Gulping visibly, Ducan lifted his collar, nearly shitting his pants in fear. That still gave him the heebie-jeebies every time they met, and today was no different. Before he could introduce them though, Simon rudely asked first.
"He's not a runt, you old fart!"
You little shit, you killed us all!!!
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Simon felt blood rising once he heard the words 'little runt'. Duncan was one of his (new) best friends, and no one could say shit about him. He knew that would get turned into diced boar, but he had to take a stand. Legs quivering, he felt himself shivering in fear, watching as the Orc grew angrier and angrier. Suddenly, the Orc landed his hand on Simon's shoulder, laughing loudly. Clapping his shoulder, the Orc introduced himself.
"Ahahahahah! I like this kid! The name's Titus Boreson, what's yours?"