For previous installments, click here. *** Trapped underground, Orsog held the dark at bay with only a guttering torch. He stood in the doorway with his back to an empty chamber, and a horde of
When the Goblin War began, it had been a single unarmed clan that raided a merchant caravan. Now almost a dozen clans lined the rim of the bowl-shaped valley, armed and armored in the spoils
The earth trembled beneath the hooves of the Asentic cavalry as they spilled into the valley, Markos at their head. The gods condemn Nikephoros, that cursed prefect for giving him this command. He probably thought
This is part of an ongoing tale. Click here to catch up on past installments in this story arc or click here to learn more about Orsog and his previous adventures. ♦ Wind whistled between
Orsog hurled himself from a hillock and plunged into the horde of waiting goblins. His sword cleaved one in twain and left gashes on several more. The hellspawn clumped together in battle, swarming over their
Orsog’s band of brawlers made no complaint as they sped over the broad grass and needle-strewn ground of the open pine forest. The last ambush had taught them to keep eyes open and mouths shut
Catch up on the past installments in this series here. ⊗ As Orsog led his rowdy band of bruisers down the streets of the fortress and out into Harnea, the legionnaires and camp aides looked
Orsog of Ha-Rend towered over the other men in the prefect’s antechamber. They wore simple tunics, and the guards wore capes with scaled armor. Orsog's feet were shod in the boots of a forester, his
North of Ha-Rend, in the western marches of the Asentic Empire, there stretches an endless wilderness of pine savannah. The tall trees with their thick trunks seem like pillars in an endless hall, sunlight filtering
