The Wandering Greenskin

A Failed Night Raid

I remember a night some two years ago spent in an inn on the outskirts of Triboar. I had arrived in town quite late one night, after traveling nearly all day. I was as weary as my horse, with barely enough strength to bring her to the stable and find a room nearby, and I had hardly managed to reach my room on the second floor of the inn before falling asleep from exhaustion.

My sleep was cut short, as sometime during the night what I guessed was some loud noise pulled me out of my deep slumber. There was a rather loud snoring coming from the room beside mine, and it was my assumption at first that that was what had roused me. Before I could knock on the wall and spout my irritation, however, my attention was pulled to the small window in the room, which now seemed to be catching glimmers of firelight. I groggily rose from my bed and peered out through the cloudy glass to find that the path below was swarming with men and torches. Cries echoed from here and there down the street. It took a moment for the realization of a raid to penetrate my residual blurriness, but I quickly understood that the town was being invaded.

I pulled on my trousers and shirt and snatched up my things before rushing downstairs. The door was already latched and barred with a fire iron from the now extinguished hearth, and I found myself in the company of the fretting innkeep and a few others who had wandered down from their rooms. Lights continued to pass by the windows, accompanied by shouts from the invaders. Nobody inside dared say a word, although a few had gathered up their arms and now seemed to be waiting for the moment somebody would break down the door and rush in.

The moment came, as one of the passing lights stopped in front of a window. Someone from outside tried opening the door, and finding it was locked they began kicking at it. The kicking was followed by an axe breaking through the door, at which point the innkeep began shouting frantic pleas at the intruders. Two of the other three men inside raised their broadswords, while the other brought out a small penknife. I reached to fetch my hatchet from my waist, only to grasp open air. I cursed my foolishness and ran back up the staircase to my room.

By the time I had retrieved my weapon, I could hear the intruders making their way inside. I heard the sounds of some altercation take place, and immediately after there seemed to be multiple pairs of feet rushing upstairs. I flung my door shut and locked it.

The footsteps made their way into the hallway and to my door, and pounding quickly ensued from the other side along with more shouting and cursing. The doors to other rooms were met with similar treatment, and I noticed the snoring from the room beside mine, which had continued up until now, suddenly stop. A few seconds of continued chaos passed while I sweated in the corner clutching my hatchet, before the sharp crack of a door being broken in sounded from the next room over. The pounding at my door stopped momentarily, and in the same instant an extremely heavy thud came from the other room. Before I could gather a thought, the body of a man broke through the wall in a shower of splintered wood and landed beside me.

I figured it was the poor soul who had been sleeping, and now it was my turn to be brutally slain. But as I stared through the now gaping hole in the wall, expecting the invaders to come rushing through, I could see a large half orc in the other room brandishing an enormous greataxe. His muscles bulged from his bare torso as he swung the axe forward. What looked to be an arm flew off to the side while a shriek sounded out, which was promptly cut off as the half orc brought the axe down again onto whoever was in front of him. I was utterly dumbfounded at the scene, only able to watch as he cut his way through the next few intruders and out into the hallway. The sounds of his sudden furious carnage carried down the hall until they abruptly stopped near the top of the stairs.

I finally found my courage, and I stood and feebly stepped through the wall and into the other room. Two bodies were sprawled on the floor, one missing its head and left arm and the other cut nearly in half at the waist. I steadied myself at the door, peeking out into the now quiet hallway. I could see more bodies lining the walls, and at the end of the trail of fresh corpses stood the half orc. He was breathing heavily, although something in me felt that it was almost more out of rage than fatigue. His chest and shoulders were now more red than green, and from the head of his axe hung strands of gore from the men he had just killed. I felt for a moment like I was looking at a demon.

His breath steadied, and he turned his gaze back to me. His face was pure red, painted in fresh blood, and in that instant I felt fear that I had never known before. My hatchet fell from my hands as I sank down to the floor, terrified of the beast before me. He never moved, but only stared at me for what felt like an eternity, before he finally turned back again and went down the staircase.

It was long before my courage returned to me, and by the time I managed to walk back downstairs I could see the invaders being driven back down the street and out of the town with the town guard on their heels. What few made it out alive I later heard were chased down by the guard and slain the next day. The raid had failed.

That night will stay with me until I pass, no doubt. If it hadn't been for the greenskin, I'd likely be dead. I'll never forget the way he looked at me. There, bathed in the blood of men, something more than a half orc had stood before me. It was there in that hall that I had learned what fear really is.

(journal entry of an unknown traveler)