The Disappearance of the Orcs, Part Two
Since the beginning of the Long Siege and the raising of the great metal dome over Orsinium, the Orcs have thankfully ceased to play any significant role in worldly affairs. The one horrifying exception, a glimpse at the dormant power of this sleeping giant, was the so-called Hell March, when over a hundred thousand Orcish crusaders stormed the gates of the Ashpit and returned, triumphant, with their god Malacath in chains…”*
–A History of the West in the Fourth Era, 3rd Edition
King Gortwog and his aide, Vorga, stood on a dais in the throne room of the Iron Palace of Orsinium. In front of them was arrayed a bank of monitoring equipment, and beyond that Malak writhed and strained against his hypercube-shaped prison. You couldn’t tell by looking, but Vorga had said that he was constantly growing, trying to find the limits of his cell and burst free. He never would, of course. The interior of the tesseract was infinite. All he could really do was cajole and threaten. He did this with gleeful, sometimes desperate abandon.
ALL YOUR ANCESTORS ARE NOW MY SLAVES, AND YOU WILL JOIN THEM, WRETCHED PEON! YOU HAVE HELD ME FOR CENTURIES, I WILL TORTURE YOU FOR ETERNITY!
“Do you ever wonder if this will work, chief?” Vorga asked.
“Whether what’ll work?” Gortwog responded.
“The project, all of this. It’s been hundreds of years now…”
“It’ll work”, Gortwog interrupted. “It has to” She’s one of the smartest people I have, but she lets her imagination wander, he thought. It’s diligence and wits we need now, not scepticism.
“Yeah, sorry boss. I guess the two of us will never know anyway”
“Chief!” called a voice from below. Gortwog almost responded, but checked himself. Vorga’s the chief here. My throne room, my clan’s great plan, but she’s the one who has to make it happen.
“What is it, Algash?”
“Soulweave intercept is picking up some weird shit on Redmer channels. Something’s happening in the Dominion…”
As the technician was speaking, the whisperfeed in Gortwog’s skull went crazy.
TEMPORAL WAVEFORM ANOMALIES ALL QUADRANTS
BESIEGING FORCES WITHDRAWING
SHELL INTEGRITY HOLDING
SHELL INTEGRITY ????????
Gortwog reeled from these unfamiliar reports and almost lost his footing. It can’t be…
“What’s going on, Vorga?”
The bishop was standing stiffly, apparently receiving her own direct reports.
“I’m getting news of a, something. Something big. The White Gold Interdict has gone silent, voidships are spinning up in Alinor and Akavir… and a big brass bastard has been sighted rising out of the Iliac Desert. I think this is it, your excellency!”
Gortwog was briefly lost for words. Ever since he was a child he had been trained for this moment, but he had never truly expected it to happen. They had been waiting for generations beyond count. The end of history, and I get to be the one. Lucky me.
Malak had gone silent. He sat perfectly still, waiting. Is he afraid? Gortwog wondered.
He drew himself up, and took a deep breath. “Bishop Vorga, I judge this to be an Eschaton-class dragon break event. Do you concur?” She looked horrified. “Concur, my lord”
“We were in close proximity when the break occurred, so it’s safe to assume we’re occupying the same time stream. In my final act as king of Orsinium, high chief of the Orsimer and grand regent of the Ashpit, I nominate you, Vorga gra-Durz, as my rightful heir and successor. You know what to do.”
Vorga, dazed, stumbled towards the empty throne. The ground was shaking. It often trembled from enemy bombardment, but this was different. This came from deep within the rock. Vorga grabbed the ceremonial femur from the throne and returned to Gortwog’s side. She flipped a switch, and set the soulmirror monitors of the room to broadcast what they saw throughout the city.
“Chief, I just want to say…”
“Don’t kiss ass, Vorga. I haven’t got any patience for it. You’ve got a job to do”
“Yes sir”, she said.
Without another moment’s hesitation, she raised the long leg bone and brought it down on Gortwog’s head.
Then she did it again.
And again.
And again.