Chapter 2

1 A HERO GOES FORTH Orcs. Green skin, long tusks, and sturdy, chiseled bodies resistant to poison and disease. A race built for war. It is also worth mentioning that they possess a voracious carnal appetite. For the orcs, breeding isn’t just a means to propagate the species. It’s just as much for everyday relaxation and recreation. Fight, feast, fuck. Repeat. The orcs count success in battle equally by the number of heads they take and by the number of children they sire after the fighting. Die in glory on the battlefield and leave plenty of offspring behind. That is the legacy every orc aspires toward. They have robust bodies and high levels of fertility. What more could any race need? But the truth is that there is one area in which the orc race is sorely lacking… …There are no female orcs, only males. In order to reproduce, they need access to the wombs of women belonging to other races. They captured female soldiers during wartime and used them as broodmares to birth child after child until their bodies gave out and they could birth no more. This is a major reason why the other races hated the orcs with the fire of a thousand suns. “Hey, look over there. Isn’t that the so-called Hero?” Bash. The one by that name was an orc to surpass all others, a formidable warrior. He was swifter to leap into battle than any other and remained on the front line longer than anyone else. And naturally, he defeated many, many more enemies than any other as well. Many orcs owed their lives to him, and many a battle had been led to victory by the heroic actions of Bash. Brave enough to face off against even the strongest of enemies, the sight of Bash in battle would make any spectator think to themselves, Surely, this is the pinnacle of the orc race. And for all these courageous deeds, he had been given the title of Hero. Hero. One who was revered for their bravery. To an orc, there could be no greater title, no greater validation of one’s strength. All orcs admired Bash very much indeed. “The Hero! Aw man, he’s so cool!” “Ya know, I’d love ta hear the story of how he defeated the Black Head that one time…” Along with the title of Hero, Bash had everything an orc could want— A big house. The finest weaponry. More food than he could possibly eat. More special privileges than he could possibly ever cash in. And the respect and admiration of every orc alive. He had everything…everything all young orcs dreamed of. “Ah…I apologize, but I was actually just about to leave…” “Idiots! Can’t you see he’s just trying to have a quiet drink in peace?!” “Oh, yikes, our bad… Sorry, I forgot we don’t have the right ta approach a Hero in public an’ make demands on his time!” But Bash had a big problem, a problem that weighed on his mind continually. Yes, from the outside, he appeared to have everything he could want, but in truth, there was one thing he’d never been able to get. Ah, perhaps that was phrased incorrectly. It wasn’t so much about him wanting to get something as wanting to lose something, if you can read between the lines… Something he wanted to dispose of forever, like an ancient ring cast into the flames of an undying fire… “No, man, come on! I wanna hear the Hero speak! I wanna know what kinda women he likes!” “What kinda women he likes? It’s gotta be human women, right?” “Are ya outta yer mind?! He’s a freakin’ Hero, y’know? During the battles, he musta bedded so many humans an’ elves. I bet he’s sick o’ the ladies! I ain’t seen him around the Breeding Grounds lately, have you?!” “Sick of humans an’ elves? Wait, ya can’t be suggestin’ it’s dragonewts he’s into, can ya?! That legendary race?!” “Anythin’s possible! He’s a Hero, after all!” This evening, Bash was sitting by himself at the tavern’s bar, nursing a fire whiskey and agonizing over his particular problem once again. How, though? How to lose it? The act itself was easily done. But in the land of the orcs, Bash stuck out like a sore thumb, so famous was he. Someone was bound to find out. And if the truth was revealed, he would lose everything. That was for certain. As a Hero among orcs—hell, forget the Hero part—as a virile, manly orc, the shame of people knowing his big secret would crush him. The second word got out, Bash’s pride and dignity would be in tatters. The respect given to him by all orckind would instantly turn into scorn and ridicule. Bash’s already meager self-esteem would be obliterated, and he’d have to go through life wearing a sack over his head…if he could even bear to go on with life at all. “I’m gonna ask him!” “Don’t! It’s disrespectful.” “I just wanna ask him about his best lay! That ain’t so disrespectful a question, is it? Was it a human warrior? An elf tavern owner? A rich beastkin’s only daughter? I gotta know!” Bash got to his feet. He was an even six foot five. A bit short for an orc, but his body bore many scars, which told the stories of the countless battles he’d fought. His taut muscles were double the size of any other orc’s in the bar. He was also extremely stoic in terms of his personality, radiating an aura of dignity and unapproachability at all times. He turned and faced the drunk young orc, who still seemed determined to engage him in bawdy conversation. Bash was scowling. “…” The approaching orc froze. “S-sorry, sir! This guy, he don’t know when to shut up! Gets a little rowdy on the sauce, ya know…?” The orc’s companion bowed frantically before Bash. As a rule, orcs never lowered their heads, and certainly not in response to a mere scowl. But Bash was a Hero. Failing to bow before such an orc would be a grave offense. “Hmph.” Bash snorted once. Then he stomped across the tavern, heading for the door. “Aw man, he really is cool…” All the orcs seated nearby let out sighs and murmurs of admiration. Bash’s strength and charisma…it was overwhelming. Any other orc but Bash would have welcomed the admiring stares of his younger fellows and grinned as he boasted of his many deeds. What’s that, squirt? Ya wanna hear my tales of greatness? Ga-ha-ha! Very well then, I’ll tell ya. It was durin’ the battle of Arkansel Plains. I was facin’ off against a herd of enemy fighters, when one of ’em comes up an’ says ta me… Well, there’s nothing wrong with that. In orc society, it was considered only warrior-like to brag about one’s prowess on the battlefield. What’s wrong with tooting one’s own horn after a battle well fought? It was a completely acceptable practice. And if the superior orc was in a bad mood that day, maybe he’d beat up on the younger orcs. Just a little. Shut yer traps, ya filthy maggots! Can’t ya see an orc’s just tryin’ ta have a quiet drink in peace?! That would be fine, too. Beating the younger generation into shape was another way for an orc to show off his superiority. Yes, being punched in the jaw by an orc of Bash’s caliber would be like a dream come true to these young orcs. What a memory to treasure. What a tale to tell! But what Bash did was even cooler. His actions spoke volumes. They gave the impression: Impudent little orcs like you don’t even register on my radar. Yes, a truly strong orc would respond in this way. That was how you identified a real warrior. A true Hero like Bash didn’t have the time to pay attention to every wide-eyed, drunken young orc who worshipped him in a tavern. Just being able to drink the same booze as Bash, in the same tavern as Bash. That was more than honor enough for the younglings. In the flesh, Bash was so cool that simply being in his presence was greater than any thrill they’d had in life thus far. Enough to make their chests swell with emotion. “Aw man! I’d give anythin’ ta be like him!” “You fool! You’ll never be like him! No one’s like him!” “All right, all right! I just wanted ta hear it from the orc himself… I wanted ta know how many women he’s had!” Bash sighed, the voices of the young orcs carrying through the door of the tavern. What would they think if they could see Bash scurrying home, his broad back stooped, looking small and weak? Taking tiny shuffling steps, as if deeply afraid of something unseen? The young orcs had gotten to Bash, their words hitting him right in the sore spot. How many women he’d had? Which one was best in the sack? How could he have possibly answered such questions? Bash’s biggest insecurity, his biggest complex… For this admirable orc who had it all, there was one thing he was desperate to be rid of. And that thing was… “Ah, how I envy him! Man, it blows my mind just tryin’ ta guess how many women he’s stuck it to!” …Zero. It’s zero. Bash was a virgin. Bash was born during the long war. In the midst of the conflict, a human woman was captured, taken prisoner, and subjected to repeated violation. A green orc pup slithered from her womb as she breathed her last. That orc was Bash. At the age of five, Bash first held a sword. At ten, he joined his first battle and felled his first foe. Even among war-loving orcs, ten was very young to have one’s first taste of battle. Indeed, ten years old was a ridiculous age to join full-grown orcs in all-out war. But at that time, even a ten-year-old orc was likely to return from battle alive; such was the success of the battle doctrines put in place by the Demon Lord Geddigs. Or at least, they were likely to return alive. Fortunately, Bash did survive. In that first year of fighting, Bash came close to death many times. But by the second year, he had become an accomplished warrior, and by the third year, he had become one of the best. In his fourth year, he really did become the best. His fifth year saw him become famous among all orckind as one of the strongest orcs who had ever lived. A formidable, legendary warrior. Indeed, Bash was a prodigy when it came to battle. The battlefield was harsh, but wherever Bash went, things were different. Bash’s position on the battlefield was marked by a rain of human, elf, and dwarf blood. Guts and entrails were strewn all over the ground in his general radius. Bash would take on and annihilate any foe who came his way. The strongest brawler, the nimblest swordsman, the so-called demigods of battle—all fell to Bash’s attacks as he racked up kill after kill. And Bash never rested. After each victory, it was on to the next encounter. Battle after battle, with barely a pause in between. This mighty warrior didn’t even know what it meant to be tired. He battled on, day and night. He paused only once every three days, sprinkling medicinal fairy dust over himself to force sleep for just a little while. Bash never thought to question any of this. He was just doing what he was expected to do as an orc warrior. But Bash’s battle prowess was immense. Citizens of each country began to speak in fearful whispers of the “super orc.” Those who had witnessed Bash at work in battle and escaped to tell the tale claimed he was: “The very incarnation of the god of war, Gudagoza himself.” When the war was over, the human commander-in-chief himself was heard saying: “If that orc had shown up on the battlefield five years earlier, then I daresay we are the ones who would have ended up tasting defeat.” Fundamentally, though, Bash was an incredibly private and modest person. He saw himself as just another soldier, albeit one who happened to possess incredible strength. Despite his ability to dominate in battle, he felt powerless to change his overall situation. The Demon Lord Geddigs was toppled in Bash’s tenth year of fighting, and five years later, the war was brought to an end. While Bash’s side had lost, Bash himself attained the title of Hero, and many other things besides. A grand house, more food than he could eat, the finest weaponry, and the respectful gaze of every orc in the land. But with all this came a realization. A truly harsh realization. The realization that even orcs had more to live for than the battlefield. Once the fighting was done, the generally agreed-upon practice was to drag a woman home by the hair and have one’s way with her. By the time the war was over for good, not a single one of the warriors Bash had fought alongside remained a virgin. Bash felt it was far too late to admit the truth. The truth that he had zero carnal experience. That he was a virgin, and all the rest. The realization came quite late for Bash. If only the war was still ongoing, things might have been different. If the war raged on, Bash could have decimated the enemy forces, selected a surviving warrior, dragged her back to base, and gloriously unburdened himself from the stigma of his virginity. Then, after practicing on enough women, he could bring home the one he liked best and have her pop out a baby orc or two. That was what he should have done. But now it was too late. The Coalition of Seven, to which the orcs belonged, had lost. The orcs, too, had opted for peace. They had signed a treaty, agreeing to their unconditional surrender. And one of the conditions of the treaty had been that orcs would no longer engage in nonconsensual coitus with members of different races. In other words, no sex without the lady’s express consent. It sounds reasonable enough, right? But to orcs, such a concept was absurd. If forced mating was outlawed, how was the orc race to reproduce? They would surely die out. But they had no other choice than to accept. Better hypothetical extinction than imminent extinction. Many would have preferred death. There were calls to keep on fighting down to the last orc. But the Orc King overruled his people. Then, in a stroke of good fortune, the other races opted to send their convicted criminals over to the orcs as a peace offering, quelling the orcs’ fears of eventual extinction due to a lack of breeding partners. Enough women were sent, with enough fertile years among them, to birth just the amount of young needed to keep the orc population going. So, to be honest, Bash could have flung his virginity to the winds long ago. All he had to do was stroll on down to the Breeding Grounds and make use of that peace offering the other races had sent. Simple. At the Breeding Grounds, mating priority was given based on an orc’s past deeds in battle. Bash wouldn’t even have had to wait in line. His virginity could have been done away with in the blink of an eye. But if Bash went to the Breeding Grounds, there would be other orcs there just wandering about. How excited they would be to catch a glimpse of a decorated war hero in the act of mating. Now, this might go without saying, but a virgin could hardly be expected to put on a showstopping sexual performance. Bash knew his first time would involve huge amounts of fumbling, bumbling, and embarrassment—a shameful display of sweaty indignity. Yes, in the land of the orcs, to dispose of one’s virginity was to make evident the existence of one’s virginity itself. There was no way Bash could have avoided this fate. And there was no way he would subject himself to such abject humiliation. The prospect alone would make any man shrink, but Bash was an orc, and a Hero at that. Bash stood alone, an exalted and famed figure among orcs. If people found out that this Hero was actually a virgin, the pride of the entire orc race would be wounded. And so Bash needed to hide the truth of his virginity for the rest of his life. That isn’t to say that Bash had resigned himself to a life of abstinence. No, he was a young, virile orc. His drive to throw down a woman and put a child in her belly was as strong as any other’s. And it wasn’t just his natural, carnal urges we had to consider. Every strong warrior had the duty to pass down their genes to their offspring. Additionally, the Orc King was always imploring the people to go down to the Breeding Grounds and impregnate as many of the women as possible. Ah, but to have one’s virginity discovered…the humiliation. There was no greater shame known among orckind. Bash may have been a virgin, but he still had his pride as a Hero. And he would have hated to see disappointment replace the look of admiration in the eyes of the young orcs who gazed fawningly at him in taverns. And so Bash felt he was stuck in a hopeless situation. He thought about it all the time. For three entire years, since the war ended, he thought of little else. To make matters worse, he was twenty-eight years old. He had just turned twenty-eight that year. In two more years, he would be a thirty-year-old virgin. Well, looking on the bright side, at least he’d turn into a wizard. That’s not a joke, by the way. An orc who reached thirty years old without engaging in carnal activity really would acquire magical powers, even without any sort of training. In fact, orc mages were extremely gifted warriors in battle. Orcs were already formidable foes. Now imagine them with magic. Orc mages were raised in isolated communities free from the temptation of women. Once their magical powers activated, a crest appeared on their foreheads. The orcs bearing such a crest were treated with reverence. Well, to a point. The crest was proof that they had exercised self-control for thirty long years, all for the sake of their nation. But those were orc mages. For an ordinary orc warrior to manifest such a crest…the embarrassment was too much to comprehend. Besides, the people had long had a saying… “Orc mages are the shame of all orcs.” Orcs didn’t consider female warrior opponents defeated until they’d had their way with them. So orc mages, who battled for many years without ever performing this finishing act, were seen as weaklings with zero confirmed conquests. They were shameful specimens of orcs. Bash would rather have expired on the battlefield in a puddle of his own blood than suffer that fate. And he only had two years left to go. His virginity would expose itself all on its own, even if he never breathed a word. “No…I’m gonna do it.” Right then and right there, Bash made up his mind once and for all. That morning, Bash awoke and picked up his trusty greatsword. His blade was meticulously maintained. On his sixth year of battle, he had rescued an entire unit of the demon army, and the sword had been gifted to him by the general to honor this deed. It was imbued with magic. Thick and strong, it would never rust or lose any of its sharpness. The robust nature of the sword meant that Bash could lose himself in battle, never having to worry about broken weaponry. The sword was almost like a companion to Bash. He slung it across his back and pulled on his armor. As an orc rose through the ranks, he won the right to don increasingly bulky armor. As a Hero, Bash was free to wear full-body armor if he so wished, but instead, he continued to wear the light armor he had grown accustomed to. Besides, after a full day of fighting, even the strongest of armor would end up shattered. No point in wearing it at all, really, thought Bash, giving his house a basic sweep and clean. Orcs were surprisingly neat and skilled at keeping things clean and tidy. On the battlefield, they often needed to conceal their tracks as they closed in on the enemy. “Only a fool leaves behind footprints,” they believed. Bash was especially good at cleaning. Today, though, only a light clean was needed. After putting things in their proper places, Bash left the house. “…” Upon exiting, Bash turned back for one last look. Bash’s house was the second-largest in the orc homeland. It was far too big for a single orc like him. You might think he was so famous to have a full house at all times and host raucous, drunken parties where he regaled his guests with his tales of battlefield glory. But Bash was reclusive and introverted, and trying desperately to keep his virginity a secret, so he permitted no guests. Telling tales of glory would mean he would have to talk about his experiences with women. Bash turned on his heel and set out along the path toward his destination. “Oh, it’s Bash!” As he walked down the road, a few orc soldiers stood respectfully aside to let him pass, all of them blushing. Usually, when two orcs met on the road, one would be sure to bellow: Ya wanna pass?! Ya gotta kill me first! But be quick, before I rip yer head right off yer neck! Yes, that would be the usual greeting for orc soldiers like these. “Aw man! The Hero looks cooler than ever!” “He’s headin’ in the direction of the elder’s house! What’s he gonna discuss with him, I wonder?!” “Maybe it’s about becomin’ the next elder?!” “What?! Bash becomin’ the next elder?! That would be freakin’ amazin’! Man, I’d be first in line ta swear fealty to him!” “You? First in line? Pah! You’d be eatin’ my dust!” As the voices of the soldier orcs carried on the breeze behind him, Bash arrived at his destination: a large house. It was constructed of giant bones and colossal tree trunks. The largest and grandest house in the orc village. Bash walked into the great hall, where several fires were burning. At the far end of the hall, a few orcs were seated on the floor, enjoying a meal together. “Bash…” “Father, Bash’s here.” “Bash. Would you care to join us for a meal?” The seated orcs all welcomed Bash warmly. They were all orcs of Bash’s generation, and yet every one of them admired him greatly. Back when Bash was new to the battlefield, he had his haters. But now, every orc in the land wanted to be just like him. After all, he was a hero to his people. “So, Bash, you’ve come.” In the center of the group, one orc sat staring sharply at Bash. He was seated right in the middle, the only one with a chair, which was extravagantly carved. He was a truly important orc. He was approaching old age, with a white beard to prove it, but he was almost double the size of Bash. He had an iron hammer by his side that was almost as long as he was tall. He was the Orc King, Nemesis. He was a strong and savage warrior who had battled on the front lines right up until the very end of the war. A sort of father figure to all orcs, who all respected him as their king. Bash also respected him and had sworn his fealty long ago. “What did you wish to see me about?” Nemesis’s gaze was sharp and penetrating. Any normal orc would foam at the mouth and swoon in a dead faint if subjected to such a look from Nemesis. “…” Bash, however, didn’t flinch. He simply stared back at Nemesis, a determined fire glowing in his own eyes. Nemesis laughed, impressed by Bash’s determination. “My sons. Leave us now.” Nemesis’s sons rose from their meal to withdraw elsewhere. Without a word of complaint, they simply picked up their food and left with it. A private meeting between king and Hero. Despite their burning curiosity, they, too, were orcs who had fought through to the very end of the war. An orc warrior always follows orders from above. And so, despite their reluctance, they headed outside without complaint. “…” Once it was just the two of them, Bash sat down opposite Nemesis. There was still food remaining, but neither reached for it. “…” “…” For a moment, the two of them simply observed each other in silence. The silence seemed endless. Especially for orcs, who love nothing more than to bellow at the tops of their voices whenever they get the chance. But the silence couldn’t last forever. Just as the fire crackled and popped, Nemesis cleared his throat. “Your eyes tell me that you have already set your heart on this choice.” “Yes, I—” “There is no need to explain. I understand.” Nemesis shut Bash down, even as he was about to speak aloud his decision. “I have heard, of course, that you are rarely ever seen around the Breeding Grounds.” Nemesis’s sharp eyes narrowed, focusing on Bash. “You are leaving to seek a wife.” “…!” The orc society was a promiscuous one. One woman would be shared among many males and bear many orc babies. But in order to preserve an outstanding bloodline, decorated orc warriors were permitted special dispensation to take a wife. A wife…in other words, a woman for the warrior’s exclusive use. Someone to take care of the general household and to provide children who belonged to that warrior alone. To achieve such a prize… It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say this was the orcs’ highest ideal of status and success. A wife…was a special thing indeed. Like a shiny medal granted to only a select few elite orcs. Naturally, only the finest woman would do for such a trophy. A maiden with the rarest beauty, who had songs sung about her loveliness. Or a female warrior of such skill and prowess that she had overcome the limitations of her sex and risen to the highest rank in the army. Or a woman possessed of such extreme intellect that she was said to be a once-in-a-thousand-years genius. Such a rare gem would the warrior orc pursue, woo, and take to wife. The more special and extraordinary the wife, the greater the orc warrior’s reputation would be. Bash was a legendary Hero among orcs, destined for the history books. If he was to take a wife, it would have to be someone suitable. No mere slave or ex-convict from the Breeding Grounds would do for such an exalted man as he. In fact, if the Hero Bash was to reproduce with such common breeding stock, it would besmirch the very pride of the orc race. For all these reasons and more, Bash had decided he would embark to search for his very own bride. In order to uphold the noble pride and dignity of the orc race. So the Orc King thought. Nay, it may be more accurate to say that he perceived it, for the Orc King’s eye was sharper than any other, as all orcs would agree. Even though he actually had shockingly bad eyesight. “You knew…” Bash lowered his gaze, embarrassed. He was blushing a deep red. Never would he have expected the king to know the truth. The truth that he was a virgin. And not only that…the king had used the word wife. The king knew it all…Bash’s plans to travel away from this place and lose his virginity in secret, hopefully with a woman who herself was a virgin. Then he would take that woman to wife and practice the act of copulation many, many times. Yes, Bash was embarrassed. An orc of his caliber, caught in the act of sneaking off on a trip to lose his virginity. And to have such a secret discovered by a venerable, much-respected orc like the king, who was something like a father to so many… If he was judged as an embarrassment to the orc race, he could understand it. In truth, none of that had come out. But Bash, like all orcs, believed that King Nemesis had a keener eye than any in the land and saw all. “My king, please do not try to stop me. I must—” “I shall not stop you.” Nemesis raised a hand in the air to quash Bash’s excuses. The king let out a short, self-deprecating laugh, then, narrowing his eyes as if struggling against some inner turmoil, he spoke. “You may go. I shall say nothing of this to the others.” Nemesis was not without sympathy for Bash. In fact, as village elder, the king would have offered Bash the chance to take a bride before now, if only the war were still on, and if only the peace treaty hadn’t included that pesky clause about not being able to copulate with other races without consent. If it weren’t for that, he would have made sure that Bash lived a lifestyle befitting an orc of his station. But the war was over. And the peace treaty terms were very clear. Under such circumstances as these, finding a woman of superior enough quality to serve as wife to an orc like Bash…that would be no simple feat. For an orc to take a bride without the use of force…such a thing had never been heard of, not in the five thousand years since the war first began.