Orc Wars
My scrappy little one hour story from the challenge set by feath
The challenge is to write a story based on the following:
You are a....
Orc with no teeth and a fear of flowers. Your only goal in life is to write! But to do so, you must find the Copper Dagger.
Alas!
The Orc King, who is inflicted with an inferiority complex -- has sworn to kill you and take the item. What WILL you do?
What can you do?
And we can see how many different stories we can get.
Other people having a go are.
feath
jrosestar
lurker
cleobourne
twistedserious
I've been a bit loose with some of the elements, but I think I have a shade of all of them...
Orc Wars
Dorrin's heart leapt into his throat at the sound of the snapping twig. He crouched under the cover of a thorny bush and tried not to make a sound. Through the branches, his keen eyes searched in the failing light for signs of the destroyer of twigs.
Long thin legs, clothed in green, marched past him with purpose. The Orc King made no attempt to hide his presence and Dorrin knew he would surely be killed if he was found. He settled his churning stomach with deep breaths and slowly crept out from his cover; he had to reach the square and find the copper dagger before he could run for shelter and safety.
He moved swiftly in silence, breathing in shallow bursts as he fought to keep his nerve. He skirted the edge of the square, lined with sweet smelling flowers that slept for the evening. Their pale pink petals and large yellow eyes were hidden but Dorrin knew that to touch them would mean trouble. More trouble than even the Orc King could bring him. He lay on the ground, his slim body flat against the dirt that was still warm from the sun that day. He edged forward, inch by inch, making little sound as he pulled himself towards the stone well in the centre of the square.
The copper dagger lay on the ground at the base of the well; its dull, unpolished surface camouflaged it against the earth. Dorrin looked around furtively and with one last ditch at bravery scrambled towards the dagger. He forgot the Orc King for a moment and pounced on the danger, moaning as he hit his head against the wall of the well. He crouched in its shadow and rubbed his head, pouting at the stone as he clutched the short dagger to his chest.
The flat thuds of the Orc King's feet told him he was near; he knew that his cry would have attracted attention. He pressed his body flat against the well wall and buried his face in his arm as he wrapped them around him, hoping he wouldn't be seen.
"He's gonna kill me," he thought, heart beating frantically "I'm a dead'un now, I shouldn't have tried this. He'll take the dagger from me and kill me dead!"
He let a whimper escape and the footfalls stopped. There was a scrapping sound as they turned in the dirt.
He opened his eyes slightly and peered through the slits. The bony legs of the Orc King stood in front of him and Dorrin lifted his head. The Orc King stared down and his eyes penetrated Dorrin's soul. His face, an impassive mask, showed neither rage nor compassion.
He reached down and grabbed Dorrin by the scruff of his jacket and lifted him easily, he was more than twice Dorrin's size; his strength disguised by his skinny, jagged frame. He held Dorrin up at eye level and glared at him for a moment before he tucked him under his arm and marched back to the small house at the edge of the square.
"Let go off me!" Dorrin yelled, but the Orc King seemed not to notice. Dorrin beat his fist against the Orc King's thigh and kicked his feet, wriggling to escape his grip, but the Orc King held onto him tightly and carried on.
When they reached the house the Orc King swung open the heavy wooden door and stepped into the room, his face lit by the glow from inside. He threw the dagger down onto the kitchen table and growled.
"I've found him." He took Dorrin by the scruff of the neck and planted him on the floor. Dorrin looked up with a sheepish frown, feeling small and silly between the two giants.
"Dorrin! What have I told you about going out before your dinner?" His mother grabbed his arm and led him across the room to the sink. "You're to wash up straight away, your father has been looking everywhere for you."
"Was just looking for the dagger." Dorrin mumbled as his mother marched back to the kitchen area.
"You should never have bought him that stupid toy!" She picked up the dagger and bent the plastic back and forth in her hand. Shaking her head, she planted it in his father's palm and steered him firmly out of her way. Then she returned to fussing around the dining table. "He's paid no attention to his studies, playing stupid war games. I told you this would happen!"
His father joined Dorrin at the bowl to wash his hands and grinned down at the boy.
"You get me into trouble, you do." He said.
"Can I have the dagger back later? We can play Orc wars after dinner, cant we?"
"I think you ought do your homework first, then maybe we can play." He picked him up and rested him on his hip as they walked back to the kitchen. His mother was ladling steaming stew into their bowls.
"And you better not have trampled all over my dahlias, young man," she said as he sat, "or I'll have your guts for garters!" His father wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed her on the cheek.
"Oh calm down, Effie, the boy's just playing."
"I'll give him playing, if he's damaged my flower bed," she said, but she smiled at him as she sat down and handed him his bread.
After dinner he finished his homework at the kitchen table; his father helped him spell out the long and difficult words of Dorrin's essay as he washed the dishes. Then they went into the garden and played Orc wars until it was time to wash up for bed.
Taking care not to damage the dahlias, of course.
The challenge is to write a story based on the following:
You are a....
Orc with no teeth and a fear of flowers. Your only goal in life is to write! But to do so, you must find the Copper Dagger.
Alas!
The Orc King, who is inflicted with an inferiority complex -- has sworn to kill you and take the item. What WILL you do?
What can you do?
And we can see how many different stories we can get.
Other people having a go are.
feath
jrosestar
lurker
cleobourne
twistedserious
I've been a bit loose with some of the elements, but I think I have a shade of all of them...
Orc Wars
Dorrin's heart leapt into his throat at the sound of the snapping twig. He crouched under the cover of a thorny bush and tried not to make a sound. Through the branches, his keen eyes searched in the failing light for signs of the destroyer of twigs.
Long thin legs, clothed in green, marched past him with purpose. The Orc King made no attempt to hide his presence and Dorrin knew he would surely be killed if he was found. He settled his churning stomach with deep breaths and slowly crept out from his cover; he had to reach the square and find the copper dagger before he could run for shelter and safety.
He moved swiftly in silence, breathing in shallow bursts as he fought to keep his nerve. He skirted the edge of the square, lined with sweet smelling flowers that slept for the evening. Their pale pink petals and large yellow eyes were hidden but Dorrin knew that to touch them would mean trouble. More trouble than even the Orc King could bring him. He lay on the ground, his slim body flat against the dirt that was still warm from the sun that day. He edged forward, inch by inch, making little sound as he pulled himself towards the stone well in the centre of the square.
The copper dagger lay on the ground at the base of the well; its dull, unpolished surface camouflaged it against the earth. Dorrin looked around furtively and with one last ditch at bravery scrambled towards the dagger. He forgot the Orc King for a moment and pounced on the danger, moaning as he hit his head against the wall of the well. He crouched in its shadow and rubbed his head, pouting at the stone as he clutched the short dagger to his chest.
The flat thuds of the Orc King's feet told him he was near; he knew that his cry would have attracted attention. He pressed his body flat against the well wall and buried his face in his arm as he wrapped them around him, hoping he wouldn't be seen.
"He's gonna kill me," he thought, heart beating frantically "I'm a dead'un now, I shouldn't have tried this. He'll take the dagger from me and kill me dead!"
He let a whimper escape and the footfalls stopped. There was a scrapping sound as they turned in the dirt.
He opened his eyes slightly and peered through the slits. The bony legs of the Orc King stood in front of him and Dorrin lifted his head. The Orc King stared down and his eyes penetrated Dorrin's soul. His face, an impassive mask, showed neither rage nor compassion.
He reached down and grabbed Dorrin by the scruff of his jacket and lifted him easily, he was more than twice Dorrin's size; his strength disguised by his skinny, jagged frame. He held Dorrin up at eye level and glared at him for a moment before he tucked him under his arm and marched back to the small house at the edge of the square.
"Let go off me!" Dorrin yelled, but the Orc King seemed not to notice. Dorrin beat his fist against the Orc King's thigh and kicked his feet, wriggling to escape his grip, but the Orc King held onto him tightly and carried on.
When they reached the house the Orc King swung open the heavy wooden door and stepped into the room, his face lit by the glow from inside. He threw the dagger down onto the kitchen table and growled.
"I've found him." He took Dorrin by the scruff of the neck and planted him on the floor. Dorrin looked up with a sheepish frown, feeling small and silly between the two giants.
"Dorrin! What have I told you about going out before your dinner?" His mother grabbed his arm and led him across the room to the sink. "You're to wash up straight away, your father has been looking everywhere for you."
"Was just looking for the dagger." Dorrin mumbled as his mother marched back to the kitchen area.
"You should never have bought him that stupid toy!" She picked up the dagger and bent the plastic back and forth in her hand. Shaking her head, she planted it in his father's palm and steered him firmly out of her way. Then she returned to fussing around the dining table. "He's paid no attention to his studies, playing stupid war games. I told you this would happen!"
His father joined Dorrin at the bowl to wash his hands and grinned down at the boy.
"You get me into trouble, you do." He said.
"Can I have the dagger back later? We can play Orc wars after dinner, cant we?"
"I think you ought do your homework first, then maybe we can play." He picked him up and rested him on his hip as they walked back to the kitchen. His mother was ladling steaming stew into their bowls.
"And you better not have trampled all over my dahlias, young man," she said as he sat, "or I'll have your guts for garters!" His father wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed her on the cheek.
"Oh calm down, Effie, the boy's just playing."
"I'll give him playing, if he's damaged my flower bed," she said, but she smiled at him as she sat down and handed him his bread.
After dinner he finished his homework at the kitchen table; his father helped him spell out the long and difficult words of Dorrin's essay as he washed the dishes. Then they went into the garden and played Orc wars until it was time to wash up for bed.
Taking care not to damage the dahlias, of course.