Belxan and the Orcs
Some time ago I was part owner of a small house on the outskirts of
Britain. It was a small tailor shop where my friends and I could work
with the hides we had gathered after our many hunts.
One day, I returned home after a long absence. Instead of a warm cozy
cottage, I found a cold field. Standing in the middle of the field was
our spinning wheel. The house had been torn down and the wheel was all
that was left.
"By the gods!" I cried. "What hath happened here?"
It wasn't long before I found my first clue. A small band of orcs had
camped not far from there. I could see their foul standards and I could
hear their evil laughter.
I needed no more evidence. I quickly launched my attack! "Die thou
fiends! Thou hast destroyed my house!" Soon they lay dead at my feet. My
chest was racked with sobs of anger.
A passerby was foolish enough to suggest that my house had actually decayed from neglect
but I knew better.
Since that day, I have made it a point to rid the world of the foul orcish
stench. My steed Orcbait and I have travelled the length and breadth of
the land seeking to rid the world of these vermin wherever they might be