A breeze off the bay agitated the long grasses that were fashioned into a roof.
The thatched hut it capped was lit from within. There a woman held a sleeping child.

They were two of the dozens of fishing folk that inhabited the coast of the great moonlit bay. Even now the men of the village fished off the coast. Young boys played on the beach as old men played music on conch and coconut shells from the porch of a nearby hut.

This same scene had been played out for thousands of years and would play out for a thousand more, but what was to happen next on this particular night would be wholly unique because of the horror and bloodshed that was about to unfold.

A wild boar-like scream of "O-R-C-!" broke the tranquility that inhabited the seaside village.

Many of the villagers stopped what they were doing, a couple of the boys stopped playing and looked over their shoulders, silhouettes of fishermen made obvious by the moon were erect with attention. A couple of the old men continued to play their island ditties, their feeble hearing unable to pick-up the commotion.

And then hell was unleashed on the beach. Several black-haired, grey-skinned ape-like beings broke through the jungle thicket that formed a perimeter around the village. The screams of children and the hot, rabid panting of the creatures formed a chorus of violence.

The oars of the fishermen hit the water, to quickly close the short distance from the pockets of fish to their homes on the shore. The short distance would feel like a lifetime.

The oarmen's valiant attempt to paddle as they had never done before, was made futile as the last of the youth fell to the claws and tusks of the animal-men.

The two creatures, now with crimson-stained breasts began a disjointed chant of "orc orc orc orc" as they approached the primitve band the played on the porch.

Despite their age the old men were in motion, enraged at the vision of the children's deaths and armed with obsidian tipped spears.

One of the "orcs" was barreling down upon the old men on all fours with a tongue wagging-out its mouth as though it hungered for the slaughter.

The first man was mowed over, flattened to the ground below the level of the grass. While he did survive this initial inpact, the orc defty kicked back his hindquarters, jacking the old man's head back beyond its normal bounds.

Two spears flanked the exposed ribcage of the black-furred horror that now found itself in the midst of the old men. The creature, the orc, reached out with its exceptionally long fore limb and gripped a man by the throat, piercing the weak flesh with several of the sharp-nailed digits.

This was too much exposure for the creatures unprotected side, and a spear pierced it lacerating the black bile-filled organs. The orc shrieked a sickening scream for sure, but continued to grip his victim as he turned towards his own attacker.

There was no orc ally to aid him in his mortal struggle. No, the other orc had arguably darker deeds at hand. While the one orc fought the defenders at the front entrance, this orc tore through the very wall of the hut, terrifying the already scared female inhabitant within. Before her scream had ended, a clubbed fist came down about the broad side of her face, pummeling her unconscious.

The wounded orc outside lifted the spear that had been run through him, and lifted his attacker into the air before smacking the man into the ground, knocking the air out of him. The orc the broke the very shaft that was in him, and using it as a cudgel, beat the grounded man into the cold dark earth.

Inside an abduction was in effect, with a slung woman over the orc's left shoulder and a child clutched in his right hand. Gripping his prizes he strode out the front door of the hut which faced the bay. There he saw the men paddling closer to the shore as he had seen then do on his previous spying trips to the village. He knew they would be paddling much faster tonight, but he would still have plenty of time to steal away his precious treasure of flesh.

Striding out of the hut the orc kidnapper saw his wounded compatriot and strode pass him into the deep, dark forrest and the night that cloaked it. The wounded orc knew what he was to do. He pushed the head of the spear deeper into his body and created an exit wound. Gripping it in one hand, and his murderous cudgel in the other, the orc charged towards the men that were placing their first steps on dry land.

To Be Continued...