At Least There Were No Bras on Their Heads

Dargum chafed as the vast horde flowed inexorably toward the fortress. The army was advancing too slowly for his tastes. Would he ever reach the fucking walls? He could just see them in the middle night's darkness, shining wetly from the pouring rain, but he had to wait until the crossbowmen weakened the defense some more. Meanwhile, his brothers were dropping like bricks all around him, felled by arrows that found the chinks in their armor more often than not. He'd felt one ricochet off his breastplate already, leaving a divot behind.

He wanted to get up there, climb one of the ladders they were raising, do his part, but he still had at least fifty yards yet to cover before he could. There were so many of his brothers, they hindered their own advance. All he could do was fill the air with his roared challenges, magnified by thousands of throats. He was not the only impatient one.

Stepping over the corpses of his brothers with little regard, Dargum firmed his grip on the broadsword he held. It still glistened with horselord blood from the battle at the Fords, and he longed to lick it clean, have even a little taste to drive his bloodlust as he neared the walls. No. Save it. Above on the ramparts, there were many more to slay, blood to spill, sweet flesh to carve – the flesh of their younglings, fat and succulent – and fucking. Master promised there would be fucking, for his agent told of ripe females seeking refuge in the keep. His loins quivered with anticipation. A greater boon than a thousand severed yellow-haired heads, a thousand still-beating hearts, dripping with that sweet red draught. Rewards fit for a Fighting Uruk-hai.

Finally, the tide pushed him up to a ladder, and he swiftly climbed, only to be stopped dead halfway up by the chokepoint at the top. Too many going up, not enough space to land in. But his predecessors were making up for it, at great cost. Twice he was nearly dislodged by falling bodies. As the area around the top of the ladder slowly cleared, those climbing up sped their ascent. Dargum rumbled with satisfaction and trembled all over.

Once he was on the ramparts, the hard-won territory seemed to be shrinking already. Horselords were closing in; Dargum swung his broadsword wide, catching one of them in the throat. The spray of blood hit him in the face and he paused to taste. Not too much, now. Plenty of time, much to be done. Another approached and engaged him before he could climb completely over, so that he was poised with one foot on the top rung and the other on the stone battlement. A precarious position that made him nervous; it had been a long climb, and the seething ground was far away. He would fight to the death for his brothers, but he also knew that if he fell on them from the top of the wall, they would rip him to pieces without concern for which side he was on. Brothers they may be, but such considerations were often forgotten when the heat of battle was hottest.

He could accept that. They were his brothers, after all.

A second horselord seemed more accomplished with his blade than the last, and Dargum stepped up his assault from the unsteady perch, one hand gripping the ladder for balance. But suddenly the wood he held in a death grip shifted a couple of feet, and he instinctively froze and stiffened, attempting to rebalance himself. In that brief moment, the horselord thrust his sword deep into Dargum's hip between breastplate and thigh guard.

Roaring in pain and shock, the Uruk wavered. It was the leg that was still on the ladder, and now his balance was even more compromised. The horselord may have laughed cruelly as he rushed forward to push his enemy backwards. Dargum couldn't tell. What was certain was that he was falling from the ladder, the pain in his leg surprisingly strong enough to make him groan, but nothing compared to what awaited him below. Fixing his eyes on the cloud-choked sky, he fancied that the rain falling straight down on his face looked like spears thrown from the heavens.

"Your turn, Biz," Todd pointed out unnecessarily as he lounged against the wall. Eying the green-skinned woman, he pushed his horn-rimmed glasses back up his nose. The gorgeous and amazingly accurate Orion Slave Girl costume was only slightly marred by the big red ribbon pinned over her left breast, and the sneakers. Orange sneakers. Lovely effect.

Biz was quite accomplished at sewing costumes, and had outfitted them all on several occasions over the years. The theme for this particular science fiction convention get-together was Star Trek, original series, and she'd whipped up a very convincing Vina costume from the pilot episode, The Menagerie. Thankfully, she had the figure for it; the cut of the dancing girl's dress left her mid-section exposed as well as her long legs. Though the original series skimped on cleavage this one time (probably because the captain wasn't Kirk), Biz decided that highly provocative seducers were more likely to bring out the big guns, and 'modified' the costume appropriately. The green fabric shimmered in the lights of the convention center, still blazingly bright even this late at night.

Rich was decked out in a strange combination of old style Klingon officer's dress uniform, with Next Generation era Klingon facial features. To all complaints about the incongruity of his ensemble, he said, "Suck it." Todd opted for the standard security guard motif, reasoning that even the tamest of cons required a Red Shirt.

Working her jaw a bit as she chewed the inside of her mouth, Biz looked closely at her hand. If I put down the efreeti, he'll need one of those dispel thingies to counter it, she mused. In truth, having only picked up the game that afternoon in the vendor hall, she wasn't quite sure what beat what just yet. Over the last hour, though, she'd at least learned respect for the Dispel Summoned Creature card, as it had thwarted several of her attempts to bring her tougher beasts into the fray. But honestly, how many of those effing things would be in each sealed deck anyway? She was pretty sure only four. There had to be a limit, or the game would suck. And the booth guy swore it didn't suck. He even demoed it with them, and it failed to suck at least enough to inspire her and her four college buddies to all buy their own decks. Hers, of course, was loaded with Orcs. She made damn sure of that. Orcs and one or two efreeti, apparently. What the hell? Who built this deck? She played the card and waited for the inevitable counter measure.

"Ah, fuck," Rich moaned, shoulders sagging. "You're such a bitch."

"Eat it, Dick," she chirped pleasantly.

"Rich," he reminded her absently as he rethought his next play. "Better read the chant or I'll call you on it."

Sighing, Biz leaned forward and read the nonsense words printed on the trading card.

"Ee cheh mah tor doe PAH!" Smirking at her foe, she said, "Chew on that."

Rich tried to scratch the bridge of his nose, but was once again thwarted by the Klingon forehead prosthesis still glued to his face. "Damn. Look, I know we're trying to do a theme here, but the costume contest ended like five hours ago. Can I take this fucking thing off?"

Biz waved absently, her attention back on her hand. The card she drew to replace the one she played was a high level Orc. Finally. The card art was hideouslly bad, but the stats might make Rich cry like a little girl. That would be awesome.

"You guys still on the same game?" Doogie asked as he and Alex arrived with arms full of Chinese take-out boxes. Because he'd gone back to med school and was an EMT, Doogie wore the standard blues of the medical branch of Starfleet, while Alex, ever the trend-setter, gave in to peer pressure and settled for a large-craniumed Talosian, though his heart was initially set on a Horta. Biz patently refused to assemble a scuttling lava monster costume for him.

To spare the folks at the take-out restaurant a fright, Alex left his foam head at the hotel.

"Yeah, just waiting on Rich to go down gracefully," Todd replied. Gesturing toward his own discard pile, he added, "I got muscled out early. Did you get my crab rangoon?"

"Double order," Alex smirked as he sat down, carefully arranging his shimmering silver robe. "Cause I know you're selfish as all hell."

"Give it over," Todd said, extending a grasping hand. Alex handed the container across to him.

As Rich worked to peel off the silicone ridges, Biz dug into her dumplings. "God, I miss Ming's," she murmured between mouthfuls.

"Nobody does it like Ming the Merciless," Doogie agreed, savoring the still steaming egg drop soup. "Hey, wrap this crap up so we can get in, all right?"

"As soon as Rich makes himself pretty," Biz said with a shrug.

"Ha ha," he said witheringly. "Do I still have eyebrows?"

Alex stifled a laugh. "Yeah. Sort of."

"God dammit," Rich swore, rubbing the raw skin over his eyes.

"Break's over," Biz cut in. "Répondez, s'il vous plaît, yuh wimp."

"Here you go," Rich said, slapping a card down. "Sil dom fo. And follow that up with Do va too. How do you like them apples, huh?"

"Really? You're coming after me with spells? Pussy." Biz shook her head. "Take this! Ahm dee pokh el REE!"

"Ladies, please, tone it down," Doogie admonished. "Gonna have security after us."

"Boy needs schoolin'," Biz suggested. "All right, what now? Piddling your drawers? Hit me with your best shot."

Rich looked over his hand, including the two new draws. Oh, you bitch. Got you. Smirking, he gently laid down The Vile Sorcerer boss card. "Eel fo mahk day sah deh mee."

"Holy crap," Alex whispered in awe as he read the card's stats. "Sodomy is right. Got something to counter that, Biz?"

In truth, she didn't. Not even the high Orc card she'd been so happy to draw could be played against this boss by itself. She'd have to have at least two more Orcs of the same strength to counter it. Son of a bitch.

But it was something like two in the morning and she was feeling a bit punchy. Smirking, she turned and dug in her swag bag, producing the mint-in-box action figure she'd wrestled a Romulan to get a hold of. "Nothing beats the Uruk-hai," she said, dropping it with finality on top of Rich's card. Then she stood up.

Her friends sat around somewhat awestruck watching her, though they'd been looking at her in this costume all day. Some of the green makeup on her skin was worn or rubbed off in places. The shine was off the chassis, so to speak, but a good deal of the chassis was still nice to look at. When she wore a costume like this, she became the character, and right now, she was Vina dancing for Captain Christopher Pike.

"Skaat izgu, Uruk durbûrz," she purred, slithering around the circle of men, undulating wantonly, her eyes fixed on the action figure in the center of the circle. "Mauk izgûr, Uruk. Az dushatâr izgûr, Uruk. Throqu ishu-izub, agh âdhn-it narash!"

Caught up in the moment, Biz continued to dance like a dervish, her movements becoming more frenzied. Long brown hair whipping about her, she repeated the words over and over, and with each repetition she became more breathless and excited.

There was something happening. She didn't know what it was, but she could feel something surging through her. Adrenalin? Was she so giddy from lack of sleep she could get high from a little silliness like this? It felt good, whatever it was, and she fed it fiercely, spinning and writhing to music only she could hear. Then there was an explosion ten feet above the floor.

Something dark appeared out of nowhere and fell like a ton of bricks in the center of the circle.

The sound of the impact – sort of a metallic clang and rattle, accompanied by an odd crunching noise – startled Biz right out of her... trance? What the hell was that? Gasping for breath, she looked at the body. Her mind just could not grasp what she was seeing.

Her friends scooted back in a panic, putting several feet of distance between themselves and... whatever it was. Doogie was the first to speak for several moments.

"What... the fuck... is that?" he breathed hesitantly, craning his neck to see.

Swallowing hard and trying to calm herself, Biz took a step closer.

"Oh my god," she whispered. "It looks like..."

Then it twitched. It shook its helmeted head and groaned. It started to roll over, perhaps attempting to rise.

"Shit!" Alex cried, realizing he was near the thing's head. "Hold it down!" Leaping forward, he pushed the creature onto its back and threw himself across its torso. Rich and Todd shook themselves to action and jumped on its legs.

It may have been momentarily stunned by the fall, but now it was coming to its senses remarkably fast. Only half its face was covered by the helmet; Alex got a front row seat to a mouth full of jagged yellow teeth and very long lower incisors, worse than staring into a really big dog's mouth.

The creature roared like a lion with a zookeeper up its ass. While Rich and Todd had its legs pinned, Alex was having a hard time against its arms. "Dammit, Doog! Stop gawking and get over here!"

In the end, it took all four of them piled on top of the creature to even come close to subduing it, yet it still bellowed like a wounded beast and struggled against them.

"Crap! Rope, we need rope," Doogie huffed. Unable to think clearly, Rich reacted on auto-pilot. He shifted his weight and freed a hand, then dug in his pocket. Finding what he sought, he pulled it out and offered it to Doogie.

"Really?" the exasperated paramedic grunted. "A True Dungeon token? Get your head out of your ass!"

Biz shook herself and rifled the nearest bag, which happened to be Rich's. She pulled out a black Cthulhu t-shirt and started ripping it into strips.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Rich yelled, his voice strained, his lucky token lost in the fray.

"We need to tie him up," she replied. "Consider this payback for the token, dickless." Focusing on the task at hand, she was able to forget for a second... just a second... Good god, what had she done?

"That cost me twenty bucks!" he protested.

"I'll owe you," she snapped. Tying the ends to one another, she made a couple of long strips of cotton poly-blend ready. "Turn him over. Get his arms behind him."

Flattening the creature took a lot out of the woefully out of shape geeks. Turning it onto its stomach while still maintaining some measure of control over it nearly lost them their grip. The creature stepped up the fight, adding snapping jaws to the equation for any who came within reach.

It could only be described as a cluster fuck. Todd took a metal-shod foot to the gut when they tried to flip the creature over; Rich got a kick in the face. Alex and Doogie had to stretch its arms over its head to manage turning it over, and that only brought them too close to its gnashing teeth. Biz hastily untied and shed one of her shoes, peeled off a thick woolen sock, and stuffed it into the creature's wide-open maw.

Silence didn't quite result, but at least its noise was reduced to gagging and choking as it struggled to push the obstruction out. The teeth were at least taken out of the picture, to Alex and Doog's relief.

Settling the creature flat, its head turned to the side, the two on his torso made room for Biz. She worked quickly, criss-crossing the fabric several times around the wrists to ensure a secure restraint. While she was at the wrists, Rich and Todd used a second strip she'd tossed them to tie the ankles.

Though bound face down, and bearing the weight of Alex and Doogie across its back, the creature still fought them. When it caught sight of Biz, however, it went still.

She was just as stunned. Slowly kneeling at its head, she leaned close, staring at its face.

"My god," she breathed. "Look at him. Do you know what he is?"

A tense calm descended. Doogie took a shuddering breath and immediately regretted it. "Ah man, he smells like gym class," he said, wrinkling his nose.

Now it hit them all. The creature was utterly filthy. Sweat, dirt, and excrement mingled with what appeared to be rain, giving it a filthy-wet-dog-mixed-with-unwashed-sweaty-man-with-no-basic-personal-sanitation-skills sort of stench. Even Biz had to take a step back to snort her nostrils clear, and she at least had some sympathy for the poor bastard.

"Okay, Miss Expert," Rich grumped as he caught his breath. "What is he?"

"He's an Orc." Her voice was filled with awe as she slowly removed the helmet from his head. She hesitantly reached out to touch his face. Flinching, the Orc's yellow eyes flicked from her hand to her eyes uncertainly. His heavy brow was bunched with confusion and growing panic. "Âmul," she said softly as she stroked his leathery cheek. "Kul quiil."

He frowned even more and blinked without any sign of comprehension.

"My god, he's beautiful," she whispered, drinking in the mottled black skin, the broad flat nose, thin lips, pointed ears, thick black hair...

Noticing her friends staring at her with various expressions of disgust, she looked away with embarrassment. "You know... beautiful in a really gross, completely repellent sort of way."

Thinking he might speak now that he was calm, Biz worked the sock out of his mouth.

She almost didn't get her arm out of reach in time. The only warning she had was the eyes suddenly going intense and wild, then he tried to get a hold of her with his teeth. Alex grabbed his head and held him still so Biz could replace the sock with shaking hands.

"What did you say to him?" Doogie asked.

"I just... I said to calm down and be still," she explained. "If he couldn't understand that, I've got nothing."

"Where the hell did you learn that shit?" Rich asked, still rubbing his bruised cheek.

"Internet," Biz shrugged.

"All right," Todd said firmly. "How did he get here?" All eyes turned to Biz.

"Hell if I know!" she cried defensively. "Trust me, I have no freaking clue. I don't dance people into existence. It's not my bag, baby."

"Heh," Rich chuckled. "Kind of like in Weird Science, huh?" They all looked at him in bafflement. Shrugging, he gestured toward the Orc. "You know... using a doll to make a dream date. Except... well, come to think of it, Biz has always had a 'thing' for Orcs, right?"

Giving him a withering look, she snorted, "They're a fascinating culture, not a potential pool for kinky fantasy sex. Get your mind out of the gutter."

"Come on, Rich," Todd snorted. "Yeah, they're cool and all, but look at this guy. Even worse, smell him. Jesus H. Christ. Who'd want a piece of that?"

"Hey, guys," Doogie suddenly said. "What's, uh... what's this crap coming off him?"

Looking where he pointed, Biz stiffened with alarm. "Shit, he's bleeding."

"That's blood?" Doogie said incredulously.

Rich, who'd been at the Orc's left leg, looked at the black slick on the floor and his own clothes. "Christ!" he yelled. "The shit's all over me!"

"We've got to get him out of here," Biz said peremptorily as order began to break down again. "Take him back to the hotel. We don't have anything we can bandage him up with here, unless Rich bought two shirts."

"Twenty fucking bucks," he reminded her caustically.

"Whatever. Come on, we have to move him. Todd, untie his legs. Get him up while he can still walk, assuming he can."

Another struggle ensued when his legs were freed, but they managed to stand him up. He swayed a little, and didn't seem able to put full weight on the injured leg, but he stood. Biz beamed at him.

"He's Fighting Uruk-hai, I'll just bet," she said happily. Then her eyes fell to the floor.

The perfectly made, rare mint-in-box action figure of an Uruk was crushed beyond recognition from the combined weight of full-grown, real Uruk and full battle armor falling on it.

"Aw, nuts," she groaned. "Eighty bucks."

On the descent from the top of the wall, Dargum felt almost suspended in a silent cocoon, as if he'd gone momentarily deaf as death drew near. Then quite suddenly, he was blinded by the sun.

Many suns, in fact, but he barely had the span of a heartbeat to squeeze his eyes shut against the glare before he hit the ground. Winded and stunned, he lay for a moment testing his lungs, trying to fill them. The rain was gone. The night was gone. There was brightness behind his sealed eyelids. No more stench of blood and death, no sounds of battle. Breathless quiet... then voices speaking in hushed tones...

Trying to get up sent a spasm of pain through his leg, and he groaned, then there was the sound of scuttling and bodies landed on him from out of nowhere. Eyes flaring wide, he bellowed a protest that was quickly stifled by shock as a flood of information assaulted a brain that had been closed off to distractions since his birth.

Man... silver clothes... sliding over me... not metal... don't understand...

Can't see others... pinning my legs... light... hundreds of suns... eyes burning...

Release me! I am Fighting Uruk-hai!

Another upon me... arms down... can't fight... claws... can't use... teeth... bite... come for me!

Dagger... in my boot... can't reach... sword gone... must fight!

Gagging... choking... can't breathe... can't get it out... what is it?... help me!

Pain... pain... leg... stop... why so much pain?... Master, you said there would be no pain!

Master?

I cannot hear you, Master!

Binding me... tying me...

Helpless... I... can't move... Master, help me!

Was this where Orcs went when they died? A place of searingly bright light and whiteskins tormenting them? Dargum's mind was in turmoil. He couldn't remember dying. Surely he would remember that.

Once bound and down, with little fight left in him, a vision appeared before his eyes. A whiteskin female by scent, but her skin was not sickly pale as whiteskins' were. She was green. A brighter and more alluring green than he'd seen on any snaga in his master's 'employ.' Yet her smooth complexion did not seem Orcish from his experience. And her eyes were grey like a stormy sky, not the yellow of an Uruk or the red of a snaga.

Who or what was she? The female looked him boldly in the eyes, unafraid. She touched his face... caressed his face, like no other of his kind had ever done. He didn't know much about Orc females, but he suspected a soft touch would not come from one of them.

He wanted to know more of this female. That seemed a mystery he could hold onto, focus on to the exclusion of all else, for all else was terrifying. He was Fighting Uruk-hai; fear was not known, and not allowed. Yet all that told him not to fear, that reassured him that he did what Master wanted, that punished him for his failures... it was all gone. There was no longer a restraint on his mind, either. Questions crowded his thoughts, his own voice clamoring for attention, demanding answers he didn't have.

Every word out of these whiteskins' mouths was gibberish. No answers would come from them, either.

The female. Concentrate on the female. She led them, and she looked at him without fear; she must be strong. Dargum's eyes followed her intently as she gathered up several bags and led the group out of the bright place. A familiar twitch and throb assailed his loins, but for the first time in his life, he found it an annoyance. Were the opportunity to arise, and he was unbound, he would most certainly act upon his instincts and fuck her with abandon. But now he wanted answers, he wanted to understand what happened to him, where he was, why he no longer felt or heard his Master, how the battle ended and if they won... So many questions, and no answers forthcoming if he allowed himself to be distracted from the asking.

TRANSLATION:

Skaat izgu, Uruk durbûrz. Mauk izgûr, Uruk. Az dushatâr izgûr, Uruk. Throqu ishu-izub, agh âdhn-it narash!

Come to me, mighty Orc. Fight for me, Orc. Kill the sorcerer for me, Orc. Devour my enemies and leave nothing behind!