War of the Deep
By: Ben

Deep in the depths of Waterdeep, the port city torn apart by inner war, two factions remained supreme throughout the ages. The Deathfist clan of orcs and the Stormguard faction of dwarves fought endlessly into the twilight, every day, every week, every year. Their children would be bred for war, and the youngest soldier on the field would be at the age of seven. The warring factions sent spies to sabotage each others bases. The dwarves would send their spies from the sewers, while the main force assaulted the orcish castle. The orcs would send their spies in alone under the cover of night. This is the story of one such attempt of sabotage by the orcs.

“Xarlis, you have your orders, bring honor to the Deathfist.”

“Yes, Commander D’vinn.”

I crept out of the base onto the battlefield, making my way to the Stormguard stronghold. My orders are to infiltrate and destroy their weapons room of explosives, thus terribly damaging their castle and paving the way of victory for the armies of the Deathfist. Being a fairly famous rogue, the Deathfist high-commander, D`vinn, was wise to hire me. Of course, I couldn’t well help myself when I saw the backs of the puny dwarves as I ran across the battlefield. While the dwarves fought the orcs, any dwarves unfortunate enough to cross my path with their back turned, soon found a blade of fire plunged deep into their back. Eventually, after slaying about eight dwarves, I reached the stronghold. However, it was very well guarded. The problem was I was high up on a hill. That is, it was a problem for them. Arrows flew across the sky, decorating the ground below with dwarven blood. An alarm was sounded, but it made no difference, I was going to make it into the stronghold and complete my objective. Or so I thought.

I awoke the next morning to the voice of a dwarven general.

“Commander, we have nearly won the war! The orcs have been pushed back to their fortress. We have sent back all but one of the battalions to refit their equipment and weapons. We will be at full strength for one final attack to win the war!”

“It is about time, what of the enemy spy that was captured?”

“He is indeed an enemy orc. Shall we execute him?”

“Of c- actually… Let’s wait until nightfall. You will load his body onto a catapult and launch him high over the orc walls. They can have their spy, along with any disease and pestilence we see fit.”

I was appalled at the commander’s savage punishment for me. Even more so, I needed to escape fast, lest the enemy refit their battalions and crush the Deathfist. There were three guards, all clad in Mithral armor, golden battle axes, and shields with an engraved foaming mug. Any orc could tell you stories of these elite warriors. One could dispatch a squad of orcs without breaking a sweat! I needed to get past three of them! Normally, this situation would seem hopeless, but these three were newer members of the elite guard, and their cockiness and inexperience would prove to be their downfall.

I called one of the guards over, as I noticed he held a key ring. My cell was dark and damp, perfect for stealth. The guard walked over, toting his battle axe proudly. He made one fatal mistake though; he left his shield on the ground, as he was using it as a seat. His shining Mithral armor was tarnished, as he did not know he had to maintain it to receive its full benefits. This was a perfect situation for me. One well placed punch to the bridge of his nose, through the rusty bars, killed him. The other two guards were shocked at what they had just witnessed. They did not run; they merely huddled into a corner, shields in defensive position, letting me pass by after I unlocked the cell. The cowards did not even have enough courage to strike at my back.

I ran, full sprint, throughout the castle to find a shadowy corner. I accidentally bumped into a dwarven noble. He was knocked down, and I tripped over him, as this noble was exceptionally short and skinny for a dwarf. This was very fortunate for me, as I caught a glimpse of a small group of archers being alerted to my escape by the two prison guards. I swept up the stunned noble and held him to my back. He would be my living shield as I ran to the weapons storeroom. His weight made no difference to me, as he was skinny and weak for a dwarf.

After what seemed to be an eternity of running and dodging arrows, I finally made it to the top floor, where the weapons room was located, behind the king’s throne. Normally, human kings are weak and simple figureheads of power. But the dwarven political caste worked very differently. Power and prestige were gained in battle, as a result of heroic deeds. The king was not on the throne, however, but I could hear him stir loudly in his chambers, as he was preparing himself for battle. I would have to act quickly.

I made a mad dash for the weapons room, throwing my hostage into the king as he stepped out of his room. This would buy me all the time I needed. The dwarves were understaffed for defense, as they believed no orc could stage an attack at this point in the war. Luckily, the dwarves did not find the explosive powder inside of my gauntlets. I spread the powder quickly throughout the room. I found my flint and tinder and began to create a big enough spark to set the room ablaze. Little did I know, that I took too much explosive powder with me, about 500 grams too much. The resulting explosion sent me through the window, into the river below. I had succeeded in my mission, but I had lost use of one of my arms, and I was drowning quickly.

I swam as hard as I could to the top of the raging river. This was fortunate in one aspect, as the dwarves thought me to be dead. When I finally made my way to the river bank and recovered, I made my way back to the Deathfist fortress as quickly as I could. The pain from my missing arm nearly overwhelmed me, but I knew I had to get to the fortress or else the returning dwarves would find me and kill me. I finally made it to my base when night fell. I knew at once that I would be safe. I snuck in through the secret entrance. If anyone other than an orc passed through the magic archway, they would be slain instantaneously. I eventually found my commander relaxing in his quarters.

“Commander D’vinn! I have completed thy task. The dwarven weapons and armor have been disintegrated.”

“Good work, Xarli-… What is that?”

He pointed to where my left arm used to be.

“This was the price I paid for my victory.”

“I see, well good work. We will have the shaman prepare you for battle after she heals your injuries. We need all the manpower we can get for the final battle of the war!”

“Yes sir, I will see her now.”

I did not see his dagger impale itself into the back of my neck as I spun around to leave.

“What use do I have for an orc missing an arm?! It’d just be a waste of rations, equipment, and my time.”

My world faded into a flash of light.