Champion of the Orcs: Krogmash

"Hahaha! Today is a day for celebration! Soon I will be hailed as a hero!"

With a mighty swing, Ug'nash hurled the wooden tankard in front of him against the wall of the tavern. The brown-skinned, elderly orc was surrounded by many of his kind, gathered in an inn to celebrate the upcoming Trial of Champions.

For the orcs, this had always been a traditional celebration, which was little wonder considering the number of victories they had. Outside the walls of their stronghold, Grischak, an entire victory path led into the stronghold. All of their heroes were displayed in trellises, and it was completely impossible to enter the city of orcs without being struck by the likenesses of orc heroes.

"Tomorrow I will immortalize myself as our ancestors did before me!"

All the orcs in the tavern erupted in thunderous cheers. Jars flew, as did fists. For a race that knows nothing but fighting, this was not very surprising.

"If you don't soak your tired old bones in hooch first, old man!" shouted one of the younger people present.

All laughter abruptly ceased, and all eyes fell on the young orc a little further on in one corner of the tavern. Whoever provoked quarrels that day could only want one thing, and everyone wanted to know who.

"Well, well, a baby still green behind the ears. Does the little baby want to say something? Does it want to go to sleep, perhaps?" sneered Ug'nash.

Within moments, the entire atmosphere was charged and everyone could literally feel the crackle in the air, but it wasn't of the romantic variety. Quarrels among the orcs were not rare, but they refrained from it so shortly before the Trial of Champions it except...

"Or do you wish to dispute my participation in the Trial of Champions, Krogmash?"

"So you know my name. What an honor," he replied.

Unlike the other orcs, Krogmash and Ug'nash had braced themselves with their arms against the tables. It almost looked as if they would throw the tables at each other at any moment. But Krogmash knew it would not come to that. They both possessed far too much honor to have come to such a clumsy blow.

"You know the traditions. There's only one way to snatch my place in the Trial of Champions, kid."

With strong shoulder movements, Ug'nash threw the fur from his neck. He had gotten rid of all other clothing long before, as the heat was increasing greatly with the amount of guests in the tavern.

Krogmash, on the other hand, was still calmly shedding his leather warms and also got rid of his chain gauntlets.

"A fight to the death, no weapons apart from fists," he grinned.

He grimly showed his opponent his teeth, along with the two tusks that grew upward from the lower jaw on the left and right, past the upper jaw.

For the warrior orcs, a ritual Va'Kog duel solved all disputes. The tradition of the Va'Kog is as old as the orcs themselves and has often been used as a solution to various differences. Moreover, it was the only type of combat allowed so close to the Trial of Champions.

Refusing a Va'Kog was considered dishonorable among the orcs. Had Ug'nash refused the challenge, participation in the Trial of Champions would have passed to Krogmash without a fight, at least until someone else challenged him. But unlike Krogmash, few were out for a Va'Kog so close to the Trial.

Few orc warriors specialized in pugilism, so such a fight between two untrained opponents was more like a typical tavern brawl than a respectable duel. Krogmash, on the other hand, was such a skilled fighter and Ug'nash was also an expert in fist-fighting and definitely not an opponent to be underestimated.

While the two were still stripping down to their loincloths, the other orcs in the tavern formed a large ring circle. Tables and chairs were pushed to the side for this purpose and an arena with a diameter of 3 meter was formed between them.

From opposite sides, Krogmash and Ug'nash entered the ring and faced each other half-naked. During a Va'Kog, nothing could be used except the fists. Therefore, all armor was discarded, as well as furs and cloth that could be used to tie up the opponent or deflect his punches.

The two muscular creatures looked at each other grimly, baring their teeth. The average height of their race, which was about 260 cm, was considerable and gave them a distinct advantage over other races. But in a fight among their kind, this was of no use to them. Here it depended on more than the mere size.

Ug'nash was already at a respectable age, but that didn't make him any less dangerous to Krogmash. Krogmash let his focused gaze wander over his opponent's entire body. The many grayish hairs between the remaining black ones showed how old his opponent was by now, but the muscles, which still covered arms, legs and the whole upper body, showed him a completely different picture of the old warrior.

Krogmash was also strongly built, more powerful than his opponent, and his youthful body was more unused, faster. Ug'nash, however, was an experienced warrior and possessed more cunning. Only speed and greater strength could help Krogmash to a quick victory here, he was sure. Getting involved in a long fight with the more experienced orc could cost him victory and perhaps his life.

From a standing start, Krogmash sprinted off. A single strike was going to decide everything before it even really began. The ring was small, and thanks to their long strides, it only took two before he reached Ug'nash and lunged with his right fist for a hook to the chin.

The old warrior seemed to have expected something like that, however, and grabbed the forearm of his younger opponent so that his firm grip prevented any further movement. With a contemptuous snort, Krogmash looked at his blocked arm and, without hesitation, lunged with his left fist for a punch from above.

The second blow was also intercepted by Ug'nash, who now had the young Krogmash completely in his grip. The latter felt the grip on his forearms tighten. Faster than he could even realize, his powerful legs and wide feet no longer felt the ground beneath their own bodies.

With great effort, Ug'nash had spun his opponent around in a twisting motion and, after enough accumulated momentum, tossed him into a group of onlooking orcs. Along with them, Krogmash went down and had to get his bearings before launching another attack.

With a mighty leap, he approached his more experienced opponent again and used his interlocking fists to deliver a heavy hook from above. Once again, Ug'nash had reacted superbly to the attack, burying his fist deep into the pit of his opponent's stomach. This time, however, the younger Orc did not relent and rammed his clenched fists into his opponent's right shoulder.

The ground beneath their feet groaned at the tremendous pressure the two warriors were exerting on it, and the shoulder of the battle-hardened older orc cracked with the impact of their fists. Both had retreated after their respective hits and snorted heavily while not taking their eyes off their opponent.

With one hand, Krogmash gripped over his stomach, which felt like it was still twisting thanks to Ug'nash's hook. But the older warrior had not gotten off lightly either. The concentrated blow of the young, powerful warrior slightly deformed his opponent's shoulder. A wound that would take its time to heal.

"You can hardly fight well with that injury, old man!" snorted Krogmash.

For others, this would surely have been reason enough to stop taking part in the Trial of Champions, but for the stubbornness of the orcs, such low standards did not apply. It was a matter of the honor of one's name and also of the clan. Those who tearfully backed down brought shame upon themselves and the clan. This fight would not end until one went down unconscious, or died.

"Ha! As if I'm going to let one lucky shot take away my chance at eternal glory!"

Even as Ug'nash spoke, some blood gathered in his mouth, which he spat out without batting an eye. But instead of panicking, the orc straightened back up to full size, showing no signs of weakness.

"The fight is far from over, lad!"

"Old fool!" growled Krogmash.

'Do what the old do best; give way to the young and watch from the side!'

The old orc's reply came as no surprise, but Krogmash would have preferred it if his opponent had simply given up. So now, however, he had to spend even more energy on winning this fight. The risk of suffering a major injury was still there.

Snorting, he ran at his opponent again. Instead of attacking the face again, however, Krogmash concentrated on grabbing his opponent's arms, just as Ug'nash had done with his opponent's earlier. Once again, they found themselves in a stalemate, each holding an arm of the other.

"Ridiculous, lad. What did you hope to gain from this?" sneered Ug'nash.

To the old warrior's scorn, however, the young orc returned nothing but a bitter smile. The attack was a blunt but unsprung blow with the head against Ug'nash's injured shoulder. His head throbbed slightly at the hardness of the impact, but his risk was to be rewarded.

Ug'nash barely hidden the pain, for even his grip loosened after taking this attack. For only a fraction of a second, he narrowed his eyes in pain. A decision he was about to regret, for the young Krogmash thought nothing of letting this chance slip away.

With his arm just freed from his opponent's grasp, he lunged for another blow and directed all his strength again against the injured shoulder. Caught off guard by the force of the blow, Ug'nash buckled and just barely braced himself with his healthy side to avoid going down completely.

The crowd around the two fell silent. Everyone gazed spellbound at the fight and its imminent outcome, which Krogmash would probably decide in his favor.

"You have lost, old fool. Acknowledge your defeat and move on with your life, or face the consequences!" said Krogmash.

There was no sign of emotion in his voice. Pity for the victor was something that had not entered into their tradition, and so Krogmash felt nothing for his opponent kneeling on the ground.

"A life of shame!" hissed Ug'nash. "Finish it already!"

Krogmash sighed. He had expected this answer, but the loss of an experienced, even if worn out, warrior always meant a loss for his kin at the same time. Those who could no longer fight still possessed wisdom and experience. Too many, however, clung to their old warrior pride and, like Ug'nash, chose death.

"Although it is a loss to our race, your decision honors you," Krogmash replied. "I shall respect it."

Without delay, he clenched his fists again and rained down a never-ending hail on his opponent. At first, Ug'nash valiantly defended himself against his opponent's many attacks, but with each hit he conceded, his reactions became slower.

His body was old and didn't take as much damage as it probably had when he was alive, that much was clear to Krogmash. Otherwise, the few hits to his shoulder would not have sapped him of so much strength. The injury was far from fatal, and with a few weeks of rest and the healing treatment of their clan shaman, the shoulder would have been fine.

But they were in a Va'Kog and that meant either dying or living in shame as a loser. A life of shame was not an option for Ug'nash, it seemed, and so Krogmash thrashed his opponent to death.

The nearly motionless body of his opponent fell to the ground, eyes fixed on the ceiling. One last dance in Ug'nashs eyes before they stiffened and faded forever.

Still, the crowd was silent about what had just happened before their eyes. But Krogmash did not care. He was done for the day and now it was important to prepare for the day ahead and the Trial of Champions. Even as he made his way to his clothes, the first orcs standing around began beating their chests with a clenched fist. A sign of respect for the participants of the Va'Kog, both winner and loser.

While Krogmash made his way home, Ug'nashs lifeless body would be taken to his clan ground where his family could take care of an honorable burial