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 found.