“You slime-colored, mold-encrusted, disgusting piece of goo! You foul-smelling, vomit-inducing, horrendous pile of poo! You mildew-making…!”
The Troll Toodrake had made a slight miscalculation in the burrowing aspect of their plan. Everything had been going well until a little mishap caused a lot of confusion.
“How goes the tunnel?”
“Um…”
The idea had been easy to imagine but difficult to implement. It had been discarded by Savage when he led Blight’s forces for two reasons. First, it was about as unethical as it got. Second, it was incredibly dangerous which made it creature-consuming and unlikely to win him any favors with the beasts. Cutter cared less.
“Dig!”
The Orcs looked on in bewilderment.
“Oh, for the love of…! Toodrake!”
The leader of Trolls appeared at his side.
“Yes, Commander?”
“Tell the Orcs to dig!”
Toodrake was also confused.
“Here?”
“Yes! Tell them to start digging!”
So Toodrake passed on the orders and was immediately besieged with questions about the sanity of the new Commander. As was usually the case, the leader of the Orcs dealt with the Troll. Orcs really were rather antagonistic creatures, especially where Trolls were concerned.
“He say dig here?” Gronk asked.
“Yes” Troodrake hissed in reply.
The Orc looked down and again posed the same question.
“Here?”
“Yes!”
The trouble the Orc had was the material the new Commander wished them to burrow through.
“It solid rock.”
They were standing on a small crag which was to the rear of the encampment. Small shrubbery could be seen, barely hanging on, growing only where rock gave way to bits of dirt. The area Cutter chose to start his excavation was devoid of any plant life whatsoever.
“I know it’s solid rock but the Commander said to dig here” the Troll explained with limited patience.
Again Gronk looked down.
“How dig through rock?”
Toodrake had been hoping the Orc would not bring up that particular question. He didn’t know how to dig through rock because it was not something his people did. They dug in dirt. It was softer and, he assumed, a much easier medium to work with in the digging trade.
“You break it up and remove it” he hissed and was pleased with his response.
“How break?”
Again he wished the Orc wouldn’t ask questions he had no easy answer for. He was sent to relay commands, though, so he went with what he thought might work.
“Take big hammers and hit the rock.”
He waited as the pig-faced beast thought over his rather brilliant solution and was quickly surmising he had developed a good rock-digging plan when the stupid Orc asked yet another question.
“Why not Ogres do it?”
Toodrake didn’t know. Ogres were probably a better idea since they already held clubs but he hadn’t been told to use Ogres so he again made up a reason on the spot.
“The Ogres are doing something else.”
He was pleased he’d outthought the Orc and was enjoying winning his mental battle when again the pink swine queried.
“What they doing?”
Toodrake hadn’t thought far enough in advance to reply. He was preparing a detailed explanation for what the Ogres were tasked with when something entered his cranial matter which both disgusted and made him smile.
“It is not your place to ask, Orc, it is your place to do!”
The phrase had been one of Savage’s favorites. Except instead of Orcs he’d said Toad. He was feeling a nastiness in his stomach for using a phrase his most hated enemy employed but took solace in the fact the Orc was willing to accept the answer for what it was.
“Okay, I tell Orcs hit rock.”
And so the hole-digging process began. The Orcs were given war hammers and went about smashing the ground with somewhat unenthusiastic fashion. The reasoning was simple. Orcs were too stupid to remember why they were smashing rocks and when it dawned on them the business was hard work they quickly began questioning the reason for the exercise.
“This stupid!”
“You stupid!”
“What you say?”
They then turned the hammers on themselves and soon a full-fledged battle broke out. It led to an interruption of the work and was why Toodrake found himself in front of Blight being bombarded with insults intended to cause injury.
“… you wart-faced, bog-dwelling, worthless stream of spew! You odor-reeking, rancid-breathing, snot-nose piece of…!”
He’d been standing there for quite a while and was questioning whether it was true Trolls were an inbred compilation of slug and marsh-moss when Cutter entered the tent.
“How dare you interrupt me!”
Cutter bowed his head before replying.
“I’m sorry, Your Highness, but I believe I have come up with a solution to our tunneling problem.”
Toodrake stood there listening with rapt concentration as Cutter explained what he intended to do.
“And who will you send on this mission?”
“Half the remaining Elvin, Your Highness.”
The Troll couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He’d heard rumors the stuff existed but never seen its proof before. Cutter was not only implying the rumors were true but they were extremely close by.
“What of the remaining Elvin?”
“I believe they should serve the highest purpose, Your Highness.”
Toodrake wasn’t sure where the man was headed but he could tell one thing; Cutter always held something up his sleeve. He’d met others like him; dishonest, untrustworthy, sadistic and ingeniously cruel. Toodrake was warming up to the man for he was his kind of creature. He watched as Blight made a decision.
“Okay, we’ll go with your plan for now.”
“Thank you, Your highness.”
“Now leave!”
Cutter left to implement his ideas as Toodrake waited to hear what his future held.
Cutter’s mind was working as it never had before. He found himself in the unique position of controlling others whose expertise and backgrounds opened up so many possibilities he was awash with different ideas. He decided to use one group to further two gains.
“I wish to speak to Blade.”
“Wait.”
He did as told. He was Commander of the Forces, second-in-command to only Prince Blight himself but the ones he was dealing with were something of a special breed.
“He will see you now.”
He nodded to the sentry and made his way inside their perimeter. He’d heard they were secretive but never quite grasped how much till he moved through their encampment and saw no sign of anything. No tents, no fires, no warriors; nothing. He could see his destination for it was the only structure standing. It appeared abandoned. He doubted it was so. He entered and immediately felt death awaiting his arrival.
“You are the one called Cutter.”
It wasn’t a question.
“Yes.”
“I am Blade.”
The Elvin he faced was about five feet tall, probably one hundred twenty pounds and if he were Human the cutthroat would’ve laughed at his attempt to be threatening.
“I have heard of you.”
As it was, Cutter could feel the power in the being. He could sense the complete lack of fear, the knowledge others lived because he allowed it, the aura of Death herself surrounding her disciple and it was unsettling to the nerves.
“What would you have of us?”
The plan had been forming in his brain for some time. When Savage opened the door Cutter saw the opportunity. When Blight chose him to lead he seized its promise and put the idea in motion.
“I would have you take something from those you despise. I would have you reap vengeance on those who abandoned your kind.”
The Elvin listened while Cutter explained his desires. When the other agreed Cutter felt his heart-rate quicken for his dreams were within reach, the ones he needed to pull off the plan were on his side and only time could stave off what he desired the most. He was on his way to becoming a god.