Chapter 14

Orcs of Orsinium

Orcs were common in the world the students had been a part of. They were known for being a violent, murdering, and ruthless race of raiders and warbands who caused chaos in the known world. More than once, some towns or cities find themselves under attack by an ork warband whose only goal is riches, violence, and bloody fun. To them, chaos was a delight, and life was all about causing as much. Even Discord, the embodiment of chaos, felt that they were a bunch of insane marauders. After all, he had a different view of chaos that didn't involve the loss of life.

In the old days, large armies of Orcs were seen as things to fear, but as civilization advanced, they could hold them back and break them easily. It wasn't like it once was in the old days when the sight of a large orc horde was a common fear. Nowadays, most orcs are like bandit clans or rouges at best. Just sent a regiment to deal with them and they were done. So it was a surprise and a dissatisfaction to know that they would be looking at the orcs next. Their first sight of them causes the group to pause for a second.

Although they had seen them previously, they weren't mentioned as much as the other races until now. Gallus rubbed his chin. "Huh, you know. Seeing them again? They aren't as scary-looking. Still ugly, but still."

"They're clearly human height or at least a bit taller, and they lack the demonic facial signs our Orcs have. Not to mention, ours are black and grey-skinned. These are mostly green-skinned," Ocellus pointed out while taking notes.

"You think they're still the same kind of Orcs in our world? I mean, they kinda clearly look bloodthirsty," Sandbar said.

They decided to focus on the video as it went on about the Orc strongholds. For them, strength is everything; thus, from the moment they are born, every male and female child learns how to fight as soon as they can walk. Having existed for so long, it was not uncommon to see Orc Strongholds in every area of Tamriel. They were the most independent race among the others, partly due to being seen as outcasts. This was partly due to their looks but mainly due to their lifestyle. Most saw them as brutal savages, but there was an undertone set of honor, survival, and inner-clan workings that saw everyone equal in the eyes of each other so long as they pulled their weight for the clan.

"Okay, now I feel a bit bad judging them upon hearing they're outcasts," Sandbar winced.

"Yeah, they don't sound so bad. Almost like dragons in a way," Smolder said.

"Or Yaks," Yona claimed.

Despite their brutality, orcs were among the most honor-bound of the races. They would never cheat you (though they might rob you point blank) and always hold to their word when they give it. They also would never pick a fight with someone who couldn't fight back like a child or the like. And if you won their loyalty, they would fight for you to the death. They also were never one to force others into enslavement, nor did they ever force their beliefs on anyone. Really, the only thing the Orcs were looking for was a damn good fight.

"So they're not complete monsters, but not really civilized?" Silverstream asked. "Sounds complex."

"Yona relates to Orks," She said in a serious tone. "They are different from others. They have their way of life and keep it out of pride. Even if others look down at them for it."

"...Yona, does that happen to you at school?" Sandbar asked out of concern.

Yona went very quiet as the others stared at her with worry. "...Sometimes. But yak not care. Yak got good friends who understand. That's all she needs."

The others smiled and nodded but couldn't help but still worry a bit.

A blood-covered orc with twin axes was seen charging and fighting many enemies with a berserker terror, making it clear why people feared his kind on the battlefield. They were scary enough as it was with their big frames and battle prowess. But when they unleashed their berserker side? You better stand clear.

Numerous Orc warriors were seen fighting and dying on the battlefield. Each wielding heavy armor and weapons that even Smolder and Gallus would find to wield. The strength of an orc is legendary, with practically all of them geared up with such substantial steel items that, for any other race, it would feel like carrying a horse.

Fighting an orc was deadly. The first instinct is to run and prey if you run into them. But if you had to stand your ground, you had to hit hard and fast. Even one blow to an orc wouldn't be enough to stop them. Orc weapons and armor were made from Orichalcum, one of the hardest metals known to Tamriel.

"Orichalcum! Holy emeralds! That's rare!" Smolder shouted in shock.

"Isn't that like one of the rarest and most deadliest metals in the world? So much so that it can cut through dragons like butter and even make Alicorns bleed?" Silverstream said in surprise.

"It is! It's said that the only major mine of it is said to only be located in the Minotaur's Islands!" Ocellus whispered. "Queen Chrysalis attempted to get someone to make a weapon to kill the Alicorns of Equestria, but the Minotaurs keep the mine such a well-guarded secret that even we couldn't find it."

"And the orcs got plenty of this stuff lying around? Wow. Better hope there isn't a major invasion or something," Gallus whistled.

The orcs were some of the best blacksmiths you could find in the land. Perfect rivals to those of the elves, who were just as good but were different in their methodology. Elven armor was made to be light, flashy, and pretty. Orc armor was downright ugly but practical, strong, and fit for war instead of looking good. The orcs did it best if you wanted something that got the job done, regardless of appearance.

"If I had to pick? I'd take the practicality of armor over the look of it any day," Smolder said.

"Professor Rarity might disagree with you," Gallus chuckled.

The translation of Orsimer, the actual name of the orcs, meant "Pariah Folk," which established what the other races of Tamriel thought of the green-skinned race. Many races see them as nothing more than brutes; their fighting prowess was the only notable factor that earned them any praise. While some orcs have risen above this prejudice, the entire race is seen with distrust. Nevertheless, many orcs leave their strongholds to find their place in the world and use their abilities to become something like many others.

Save for those who lived under the Imperial Empire, the orcs followed laws other than their own, called the Code of Malacath.

"Isn't he one of the Daedric Princes?" Sandbar asked in alarm.

"Yeah, I think he's worshiped by the Orcs as their creator," Ocellus said as she returned to her notes.

It was a simple set of rules. Don't steal, murder, or attack people for no reason (though there was a long list of exceptions). Jails didn't exist in their society as they found it a waste of time and resources, so you either pay your crime in labor, money, or blood. All strongholds were run by the chiefs, who were the strongest males of the tribe and made all decisions based on the Code. The males served him while the females, all of them, were either his wives or daughters save for the "Wise Woman," who handled all things spiritual.

"Wait, every female is this guy's mate?" Smolder asked in disgust. "Gross!"

"Sounds like a harem fantasy," Gallus shivered.

"Sounds like a recipe for disaster," Silverstream said as she shook her head. "How long until incest gets involved? There is a reason why the nobles back home keep records of all their bloodlines."

"Yona don't want to think that," Yona replied as she turned a big green.

As they watched some orcs fighting each other, they learned that the word "fighting" meant everything to them. You are born into this world fighting and most likely will die doing so. You had to fight for everything: pride, love, respect, wealth, comfort, and more. Survival was key for orcs, and they applied that mindset to everything.

That being said, growing old was seen as shameful. To the orcs, the elderly were weak and caused problems by having to take care of them. Dying of old age was also seen as shameful, so many orcs, especially the older ones, sought out a glorious death in a fight, especially if they started getting grey hair.

"Wait, they want to die young? They don't want to die old?" Sandbar asked as the others looked at each other in disbelief. "I don't...I don't get it..."

"Me neither," Ocellus whispered.

"Dying in honor is one thing, but dying in old age is not bad," Yona whimpered.

It only got more crazy as they saw a duel between a chief and one of his sons. The line of succession was always a duel to the death. When one of the Chief's sons believes he is ready to fight his father, they fight until one of them is dead.

"They even kill their own kin?! Just to rule?! That is barbaric!" Smolder shouted. "Not even dragons are that ruthless!"

Regardless of how others felt about such a lifestyle, it had made the Orcs some of Tamriel's most brutal and merciless killers. And they didn't care what others thought. It was their way of life, and they were happy with it.

"How does such a society even come to fruition like this?" Ocellus couldn't help but ask as she got her answer when the video changed.

The real origins of the Orks were shrouded in both mystery and myth. A few things were always consistent with it; one of them was a single name: Trinimac. As was explained before, the elves originated from the Summerset Isles until the great exodus of those like the Chimer. However, many elves didn't wish to see themselves separated for any reason, and one of them, Trinimac, tried to stop them. However, the Daedric Prince of Plots, Boetheia, loved seeing the elves separate themselves; thus, she devoured Trinimac and took on his form.

"She ate him and took on his form? Gross," Silverstream gagged.

"...Did ancient Changelings use to do that?" Smolder asked Ocellus nervously.

"What? No! We never did such a thing...I think?" Ocellus whispered as she rubbed her head. "Early changeling history is mostly lost to us..."

"Well, I don't think your species ever went that far," Sandbar said with a smile, and the others nodded to move on.

Boethiah succeeded in her efforts to divide the elves of Summerset Isles, but she didn't just stop there. Further chaos was done, but the story's focus was not on her but on what remained of Trinimac. Whether it was done by Boethiah on purpose or a twist of cruel fate, Trinimac wasn't really dead—or at least a part of him wasn't.

The remains of the one noble and respected Trinimac were transformed into a new Daedric Prince—the Prince of spurred, ostracized, The Sworn Oath, and blood curse: Malacath. Forevermore, he and his followers would be outcasts and discarded by the rest of society. In time, his followers turned from elves to the orcs of today, following their own code of honor and independence.

"So basically, Daedric Princes messed everything up. Again," Gallus summarized.

"So they were once elves, but now are orcs? Huh, quite the change," Smolder said.

Everywhere the orks went, they were looked upon with disgust and fear by the locals. While the orcs can be found anywhere they want, the largest population lives in Skyrm and High Rock. Even though most orcs wish to be left alone, their violent nature and reputation have divided them among the other mortal races for generations. Thus, this always led to bloodshed and the orcs leaving to pick up somewhere else.

Despite being around since the dawn of the first era, the orcs have never had a permanent country compared to the other races. It took a visionary by the name of Torug gro-Igron ("How do you spell that?!" Ocellus shouted) to start creating an actual orc civilization: Orsinium. It began with some huts, but as more and more orcs came to join, it thrived into a booming industrious city in the mountains of High Rock, which alerted the Bretons who originally dismissed them. Only now, they saw them as a threat.

In a rare moment of cooperation from the bickering nobles of High Rock, they decided to group together to deal with the Orcs who they saw as threats to their land. The Orcs will say they were just minding their own business, while the Bretons will say they were taking land that belonged to them. As with all disagreements that have no peaceful outcome, the only answer is war.

"War never changes," Sandbar sighed.

King Joile of Daggerfall sent a letter to Gaiden Shinji of Hammerfall, a renowned warrior with a clan of amazing swordsmen, seeking an alliance against the orcs who both felt were a threat to their people. The Bretons and the Redguard joined forces, in what would be many times in the future, to deal with the Orc barbarians, and thus the Siege of Orsinium began.

The six watched a short scene of a long thirty-year war between the Orcs and the alliance. Spells and blades are used in every sport. Hundreds drying in bloody ways. What should have been a quick war showed that the orcs were every dangerous fighter they had always been rumored to be.

"Why couldn't they just negotiate?" Silverstream asked with a sad tone. "Why does it always have to end in violence?"

"Makes me glad we're learning about friendship rather than war in our world," Gallus muttered as he comforted her.

Eventually, the orcs lost the battle but fought with honor to the very end and would be remembered in history for it. Even slaying the great Gaiden Shinji in the end, which shocked the Redguards. The siege was the longest in history and cemented the orcs as one of the greatest fighters among the races, but they sadly were once again forced to wonder as they did before. Time after time, the orcs would be treated in scorn only to be needed during great times of chaos when their fighting was required, such as the Cold Harbor Invasion in the Second Era. Ironically, the orcs would join their old enemies, the Bretons, and Redguard, to form the Daggerfall Covenant.

"Let me guess? They promised them something and turned their backs on them?" Smolder sighed.

While the orcs provided some of the best warriors and smiths for the alliance, they were cast aside again once it was over.

"Knew it."

During Tiber Septim's reign in the Third Era, the orcs held very little influence or effect from it. Unlike the other races, they still had no home at the time and thus were not affected by the Emperor's reign, save for those who would become citizens of such an empire. That said, a new visionary had come again to help them build a new home. His name was Gortwog gro-Nagorm ("What is with these names?!" Ocellus cried out) and he wanted to once again rebuild Orsinium.

"Huh, he looks more like a merchant noble than a warrior," Sandbar said as they saw him on the screen.

"Maybe sometimes you need a non-warrior to make a civilization," Ocellus said while struggling to write the name again.

Unlike his fellow orcs, Gortwog gro-Nagorm was more about negation and politics than warfare. While some orcs might see that as a weakness, the results could not be disputed. He successfully gained power in High Rock of all places, earning alliance, favors, and wealth that allowed him to begin his dream of a new construction of Orisinum. He was so good at what he did that he managed to secure an audience with the Emperor.

At long last, after so many centuries, Orsinium was eventually reestablished once again. They established themselves as a powerful political force in the Empire through trade and political connections with the Imperial Throne.

"So it all ends in a happy ending!" Yona claimed.

But, once again, the Bretons felt threatened.

"Or not..."

Feeling the need to once again curb the power of the Orcs, the Bretons made plans to deal with them despite their ties. However, to do so, they needed help from their long-time allies, the Redguards of Hammerfall.

But that is a story for another day.

Author's Note

Merry Christmas! Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Redguard are next