Chapter 41: BUL'TAR!!!
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[Earlier that day]
Initially, despite seeming friendly and amiable, Albert had been silent for the entire journey. Sam had tried to talk to him and ask him questions repeatedly, but the man just smiled, clammed up and looked out the window to watch the interesting trees and trees and more trees pass by. How exciting!
However, the moment Sam pulled out her lunch snacks, she noticed from the corner of her eyes that Albert was staring at her food and drooling.
(What a foodie...) She looked at him from the side of her eyes in disdain; like a pot calling the kettle black.
"You want some...?" She offered her Le Gateau a'la Broche to him - a caramelised chunk of bread-cake baked on a stick - but he looked away; showing a surprisingly cute tsundere side unbefitting his mature mid-30's looks.
(Did he just "Hmmph!" me...?!?) She looked incredulous and aggrieved at the man's slight of her offer of food. (No more for you!) Then she continued eating on her own; offering some to Snowie who also gave her a "Hmmph!" and turned around in disgust.
Dejected, Sam continued eating but immediately turned to smiling happily as she chewed on the Le Gateau a'la Broche prepared by Helga; who had prepared amazing pastries; withdrawing them from the piping hot clay oven in her forge. An amazing part-time baker alongside being a full-time blacksmith.
Yet as she ate, she could see the middle-aged man staring at her again with eyes of longing, desire... LUST for food...
"Shtop shtaring! Jyou're sho rude! Jhon't jyou haf jhour own fvood?!?" She shouted at him with food still in her mouth; spraying bread fragments and saliva on his face.
"Sh-shworry..." She apologised loudly as he wiped the saliva and bread fragments off. But as she STILL had food in her mouth, she re-applied a fresh layer of spit and food onto the man.
"...."
It was silent for a long while after that. Sam felt so bad, she almost lost her appetite. Almost; but she didn't lose it - so she still continued munching on the bread-on-a-stick.
Then reluctantly, she took out her 2nd last stick of the broche and shoved it at the man.
The man reluctantly accepted, showing a "I guess I'm forced to" face and sighing as if he had done her a big favour. She felt irritated - she had given him a gift more valuable than gold (her food), but he showed this kind of reaction?!?
So Sam smacked him on the head.
"Ouch!" "Ouch!"
Both Sam and the man cried out in pain - the man's head was hard! But so was her fist...
"....."
Again a long silence; with just the sounds of two irritated "kids" chewing their food. And a satisfied kitten laughing at them - until Sam knocked Snowie on the head too.
Then it was 2 irritated "kids" and one cat attached to a girl - with it's teeth latched onto her head.
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Sam and Albert were huddled together with the rest of the non-combatants in the enclosure of the circle of carriages, looking relaxed as they sat and shared snacks.
The defenders had chosen to setup in a wide clearing; the treeline at its closest was nearly 80m away. This would allow their archers time to release at least 2 volleys of arrows to slow down the charge of the orcs on their wargs.
Snowie continued to hiss at the man; keeping her distance; but otherwise, they looked like a cheerful couple enjoying a picnic.
Now and then the other caravan members would give them strange & questioning looks - but they soon ignored the two, shaking their heads and muttering that maybe they had already gone mad with fear.
As they waited for the orcs to arrive; the 6 mercenaries had spread themselves out along the perimeter of carriages. 4 of them were melee fighters - the robust and short Khadir with his battle-axe; the rotund and baby-faced Jho Low with a pair of stiletto daggers; the tallest and most muscular Matilda with a greatsword and the well-proportioned Ragnar with mace and shield.
The other 2 members were a male silver-cloaked mage with silver eyes who spoke in archaic sentences such as "How mayest I aid thou?" and a hooded archer of indeterminate gender perched in the trees above them.
(They'll probably die soon anyway...) Albert sighed, not bothering to assess the mercenaries strength any longer.
(Now, how do I get myself out of this sticky situation...) He looked at Sam. She WAS pretty strong - but it would be unlikely they'd make it out alive against the level 12 Shadowmane.
Sam - the focus of his line of thought - continued humming happily; playing with the aggravated Snowie's front legs. The kitten - now a small cat - kept trying to snap at her with her sharp little teeth - delighting the young girl who burst into peals of laughter.
"Shhhh!!!!!!" She was met with more furious glares, this time even from the guards and mercenaries...
"They're here!" The tall scout shouted; causing the defenders to raise their weapons in preparation.
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Two by two, the orcs emerged from the forest. Unlike their usual approach and barbaric charges, these orcs were disciplined, silent - militant in their bearing. Slowly, all 37 of the orcs emerged; together with their leader - the jet-black skinned Shadowmane.
Two thirds of the orcs were mounted on wargs; the mounts equaling their riders in ferocity and battle potential. The remaining third were on foot; bearing various signs of injury - signs of a recent struggle where the group had lost their mounts; and probably many of their number. A normal hunting squad had as many as 60 warriors; while Shadowmane's group was known to have nearly 80.
With the differences between humans and non-humans cultivation methods; orcs as well as many other living creatures did not gain levels in the same way as humans did. However, this did not mean they were weaker - but instead, even a normal member of their species could be stronger than a trained human.
For example a land wyrm; even without intelligence or skills; would be stronger than a level 15 human elite; while an ancient shambler; a sentient force of nature born from the earth, trees and hills; could tear easily apart half a dozen semi-divine knights!
A normal adult orc had rippling muscles and the strength of level 5-6, while a seasoned warrior adept at blade, hammer or axe could be as high as level 7. Yet from just a quick glance, it was clear that even the youngest, weakest orc in Shadowmane's group was far more ferocious and muscular; being at least level 7-8 - while the sharp-eyed experts among them were stronger; up to level 10.
And all these might orc warriors who could vie for a chieftains seat; willingly submitted to their raid chief - Shadowmane.
Shadowmane was called such because he had killed a level 12 fully grown Shadow Lion barehanded and was wearing its mane on his back as a trophy. And that was a story of 10 years ago; after which his power and notoriety had only grown greater and greater. By now; it was unsure just how mighty a level his personal strength had reached!
The mighty raid chief sat mounted on his white warg about 120m out. Despite him being in range of the archers; none of the humans dared nock an arrow - their hearts and spirits were already being suppressed by the orc's battle aura.
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"Khadir, my old friend... Do you think I'll get to see Letitia again...?" Paulos asked the shorter man at his side.
"Definitely, old man! But, sadly... Maybe not again in this world..." Khadir replied in a half-joking, half-morbid tone.
They were standing at the front of the caravan guards and mercenaries; lined up as the orc raiding party trickled out of the forest.
The battle had not started; but they both knew it was just the calm before the storm.
"Hah! Haha! Hahaha!" Khadir began to laugh; the heavily built warrior's habit when nervous. Paulos chuckled too; then his eyes bulged as he saw a young lady in a dress walk past him relaxedly; as if taking a stroll in a flower garden.
Spluttering in the middle of his laugh when he saw what his buddy saw. Khadir grabbed Sam's shoulder and yelled at her, saying, "Young lady! Get back to the carriages!"
Sam turned to him, a look of astonishment on her face. What was this frail man saying?
"Did you hear me? Are you stupid, deaf or crazy or all three? Get back, RIGHT NOW!"
Shocked at the spluttering and irascible man, Sam involuntarily took a step backwards; sulking. "I just wanted to help... Why is he so mean...?" She whispered loud enough for everyone to hear.
Then she trudged back to the carriages, pulling out a snack to munch on; ignoring the furious Khadir and bemused Paulos.
"I won't care about you smelly old men anymore!" She muttered (very loudly) to herself (to everyone).
Temporarily shaken by the interlude with the young lady; Paulos and Khadir's gazes grew focused once more as they turned to face their opponents - as they heard the orcs' come to a halt; their formation complete.
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After a moment; the orc chieftain spoke. "Lat marr voz?" Despite his voice being thunderous and booming; he spoke with poise and eloquence - merely in a language none of the humans understood.
Stunned at the unintelligible words that sounded like a question; Khadir and Paulos exchanged a glance. "Do you know what he's say--"
"LAT MARR VOZ???" The orc roared ferociously; startling the men and horses; while the huddled people at the centre cried out in fear.
As they waited, the orc's face turned more and more ghastly; as he bared his teeth in rage.
Then it was too late for any further thoughts of what his words meant.
"Bul-TAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRR!" Shadowmane bellowed a warcry; signalling the beginning of the furious clash.
"BUL-TARRRRRRRRRR!" Echoing his cry, the orcs descended like a storm.
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CREATORS' THOUGHTS 
Ierrech
Ierrech Orcish dictionary: http://www.angelfire.com/ia/orcishnations/englishorcish.html
Bul'tar: Reference to Praise the Orc! Translated on Wuxiaworld.
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