Ghuzrod Sunrekka Becomes Da Biggest 'n Smartest!

I ran the sharp stone across my blade and smiled as the metal weapon glinted in the low light. It wasn't much more than a bit of sharpened scrap with a bit of leather for a grip but it was effective. Crude but serviceable, truly the epitome of an Orkish weapon, and one that was almost too heavy for me to use.

“I fink I'll kall ya... Pig Sticka,” I announced to no one in particular. “Oop, missed a spot.”

As I continued to sharpen my weapon, I let my mind and gaze wander over my surroundings. I was sitting in the lone tower that was still standing in the small forest fort where I had first found myself. The structure lacked any internal parts, with the various floors having rotted to nothing and collapsing inward.

I would have assumed that would herald the entire thing falling due to the lack of structural support but that wasn't the case. It stood still, yet there was no way to reach the roof, and only a single floor, the bottom one, though it had a dirt floor and was full of debris. I had moved just barely enough of the stuff to clear a good ten-foot by ten-foot space for myself to serve as my quarters.

I didn't have a bed or a sleeping area as Orks didn't need to sleep. I apparently could if I wanted to, as I had napped for a few hours after returning with my kills but that was two days ago. Since then I spent my time moving rubble, cleaning the bodies, and stumbling upon a jagged hunk of metal that had likely been a sword at one point.

Now it was Pig Sticka, the knife, and this tower was slowly becoming my home. I’d need to become bigger or get some help before I could start clearing out the rest but for now, it was enough. I had room for a small meat cleaning station, a sharpening spot, and a thinking spot I made from a rock.

There I sat, sharpening away while thinking about the last two days.

The meat had been surprisingly good, even half burnt or completely raw. Apparently, the immune system of a gretchin was just as robust as my larger Orkish cousins as I didn't so much as get a stomach ache. The leftover bones of these killed were in a pile off to the side, waiting to be assembled into something useful.

“Right, let's get ta fight'n',” I declared, rising from my spot and leaving the sharpening rock on the half-rotten table.

Proceeding out into the fort, I gripped Pig Sticka tight and chose to head back to the swamp I had located before. I wasn't sure what kind of horrible creature I was going to find, but at the bare minimum, I could at least hunt more of those fish. They tasted pretty darn good though killing them and the bunicorns hadn't netted me much in the evolution department. Sure I had gotten a few inches taller, but I still had a long way to go before I could hit ork boy height, never mind Warboss size.

I needed bigger foes, better fights, and tougher enemies if I was going to trigger that kind of drastic evolution. Sure I didn't have any idea how this worked, or if I was spreading spores yet but the only surefire way to do that other than fight was to die and I wasn't keen on that. So I continued on, wading through the muck and the mud, moving ever deeper into the swamps of the Everfree.

Dry land was rare and coveted by the larger plantlife, with the majority of the area being filled with waterways and stagnant pools. For the first little while I didn't see much of anything save for the odd small mammal or winged creature. I briefly considered chasing down and eating a squirrel but decided it was unsportsmanlike, and more important, unorky.

I needed a proper fight, not some muskrats, an otter, or a turtle. Sure some of those things were pretty big but they probably wouldn't pose much of a challenge, though swans were pretty brutal if I remembered correctly. As I was considering if it would be worth picking a fight with one of those big fishing birds I stumbled through a brush and ended up face to face with a frog.

A big frog.

Now when I say big frog, I mean, something six times as tall as me, likely ten times as heavy, and oddly enough, possessing of three times as many eyeballs as I. The six large orbs peered down at me placidly, their orangey-red gaze fixed on me as I picked myself up out of the bush I had tripped through. The frog’s yellow chest, and green spotted back rose and fell as it breathed slowly, signaling to me at least that it wasn't hostile… yet.

“Gud giant frog fing. Don't eat ‘da itty bitty gretchin. I'll jus be on ma way an' let ya get back ta whateva ya were do'n,” I whispered placatingly in a low tone.

I wasn't sure what was going through the thing’s mind, but I hoped it was calm, zen-like thoughts. This assumption held until I had nearly slipped back through the bush, at which point the thing hopped at me as if attempting to crush me. Thankfully I rolled out of the way in time and was able to jump back up and survey the damage.

The frog had crushed the bush I had been in a moment later, its enormous body squishing it completely flat. Worse still, it was eying me hungrily, its yellowish-red orbs bearing down on me with obviously murderous intent.

“Screw be'n nice. Its time ta introduce mista frog ta lady Pig Sticka,” I muttered.

With my now quite inadequate feeling knife held up and ready, I waited for the frog to make a move. I didn't have to wait long, as the thing’s tongue shot out of its mouth with the force of a cannonball. Aimed squarely at my chest, I assumed it was best not to let it hit me, and jumped to the right.

I kept up the momentum by charging at him and slashing at his mucous-covered side with Pig Sticka. Though I drew blood it wasn't much, as the creature’s odd hide and slimy exterior took the majority of the blow. The frog barely even seemed to notice my attack and raised a mighty leg in order to try and squish me flat.

I was pretty quick though, so I continued to the right, avoiding the resounding stomp and slashing away. I left more injuries on him but none were very deep nor very damaging. During this flurry of attacks, it tried to stomp on me again, but I was able to weave out of the way, keeping its mouth off to one side.

Annoyed and growing desperate I grabbed Pig Sticka in both hands and brought it down as hard as I could on the creature’s side. The stab worked, and the blade sunk deep into its flesh, disappearing all the way up to the grip. This made the creature cry out in anger, or at least I assumed as much as its voice was so quiet I could only barely hear it.

“Yeah get some ya stupid jerk frog,” I spat.

I yanked the blade out and was about to stab him a second time when the frog’s chest expanded suddenly.

“Oh no,” was all I managed before his belly hit me with enough force to send me sprawling on the ground.

Despite the force of the blow, I kept a good grip on Pig Sticka. I then tried to stand back up, only to get to my knees and suddenly get slammed in the chest with something sticky and wet. I muttered a quick prayer to Gork and or Mork before I got pulled into the creature’s mouth, knife and all.

Everything went black, my body turned end over end, and all around me was a slimy unpleasant smelling mucous. After a brief tumble, and being squeezed through some kind of wet orifice, I landed in a pool of stinging, acidic liquid. This was probably his stomach acid, but I didn't exactly have the scientific equipment on hand to test this hypothesis.

Rather I resisted the urge to panic and grabbed hold of Pig Sticka with both hands for a second time. Bringing it down on the closest surface, I grinned as the beast howled in agony. I also held back on the desire to yell insults, as the skin was beginning to melt off my legs so I focused instead on stabbing.

Over and over I brought the knife down on the same spot, hacking apart the meaty barrier that lay directly before me. As I did so, the frog writhed and hopped about, though his frenzied state did nothing to stop me from my grim work. Hunks of frog flesh floated alongside me, and his blood poured into his own belly, diluting the stomach acid somewhat.

By then all the skin on my bottom half was gone, and my muscle was starting to go next. It was incredibly painful and I was starting to lose hope when I saw it, a glint of light visible through the hole I had carved. I was almost out, and with that thought in mind, I pushed forward with renewed vigor.

Snapping ribs, and ripping out organs, I tunneled through his flesh before finally emerging headfirst back into the swamp. After taking a deep breath, I grabbed the sides of the creature’s chest and heaved myself out like some macabre reverse birth. With that deeply unsettling thought in mind, I rolled over and raised Pig Sticka, expecting another attack from my foe.

He, however, wasn't interested in trying to eat me anymore, as he was too busy stuffing his insides back inside of him. He did this for a second or two before lurching forward and lying there twitching. I waited for a few more seconds before celebrating by lying on the ground and groaning in agony.

I could tell that from where my navel would be, to the tips of my toes, everything was raw, red, and bloody. A muscle twitched, the flesh exposed to the air for the first time since it had been knitted together. It was about that time when I started to wonder if I was going to die, but thankfully a warm sensation bloomed in my chest.

With it, my terror vanished and I felt the immense relief of my unlikely victory flood my body with chemicals.

“Waaaaaugh!” I yelled at the top of my lungs, the action instinctual rather than planned.

As I yelled, arms raised above me and knife flailing about, I felt that warmth intensify. I started to grow taller, and bigger but then it hit my legs and the growth stopped. Whatever energy filled me instead morphed, choosing instead to repair my damaged body of the wounds I had sustained.

Though thankful I was no longer without skin on nearly half my body, I was a bit pissed that I hadn't evolved yet. I was alive, had won, and still netted an extra two inches or so of height so I didn't complain too much. That was until my nose started working and for the first time since my rebirth smelled something incredibly foul.

“I smell like a sulfur wrapped korpse deep fried ‘n kat piss an’ rolled around ‘n a bed uv dog feces,” I muttered, rising back to my feet. “Best wash myself off, lest me prey smell me kom'n from a mile away.

So I trundled awkwardly over to the nearest cleanest pool of fetid swamp water and did the most unorky thing imaginable. I bathed myself. Or at least tried to, as I kept one hand on Pig Sticka the entire time, and I didn't have any kind of soap, nor even a loofah. I was about halfway through this strangely unpleasant ritual before I noticed that I was being watched.

From about halfway up a nearby tree, a small white bunny rabbit stood there, staring directly at me with its big eyes.

“Screw off ya kreep. Kant yer let a boy bathe himself ‘n peace!” I shouted, throwing a stick at him with what little strength I could muster.

Though my attack didn't land anywhere close to the target, it seemed to work as he scampered off, leaving me alone.

“Wait a second. Was ‘dat bunny blushing?” I muttered.