(Narrated by Sir Atten of Borro)

Spring is in full bloom deep in the great Sylvan forests. Following the eternal cycles of the seasons, winter has departed and new life springs forth with renewed vigor. Which is good news for the region’s dominant inhabitants: the wood elves. “Sylvas Arborialis”, the common wood elves range across most of the western continent wherever deciduous trees can flourish, but the largest populations are found here in the heart of the Sylvan forests. Unlike their more settled cousins, the High Elves, wood elves follow a semi-nomadic existence, migrating to different regions of the forest. Here, we see a tribe of elves returning to their spring hunting grounds. This year’s winter has been hard, but a new season promises new fortunes for the tribe.

However, the elves must be cautious, for they have visitors in their forest: Orcs. “Orcus Mons” the mountain orc. Smaller then their Badlands relatives, the mountain orc remains a dangerous predator. The winter has been hard on them too. Picking in the mountains have been slim this past season and so this pack’s leader has led his herd down out of the foothills of the mountains and into the Sylvan forests  in search of fresh prey.

While the common orc has generally poor eye sight during the day, their sense of smell is second to none. They’ve picked up the scent of elves nearby. A pack of orcs can track its prey for days, sticking to the shadows of the deep underbrush during daylight hours and waiting for the right to strike. But seeing the size of the group, the orcs hesitate. It is large and armed. If they choose to stand and fight, they could injure or kill many of the orcs. Too risky. Better to wait and hope something a bit easier comes by. Not long after, something does.

Another group of wood elves, stragglers from the first group, trying to catch up. A family, sticking together. The male, in front, followed by his mate, then their two daughters. Both are nearly fully grown. Like all elves, wood elves grow slowly, reaching maturity at about 40 years of age and remaining vigorous for at least several centuries beyond. In another couple of years, they would break away and find mates of their own.

The reason they are moving slower then the rest of the tribe is soon apparent: the male has an injured leg, likely an encounter with another predator native to these woods. Already, they are out of sight of the main group and soon will be out of earshot as well. Easy pickings for the orcs. As soon as they become aware of this new group, they begin to move, closing in.

Despite popular preconceptions as mindless savages, orcs possess a strong cunning when hunting and, unlike their solitary badlands kin, mountain orcs are pack hunters. Rather then charge straight at the group, the orcs begin a silent stalk. Most of them are sent to sweep around to the sides. If they can avoid detection, they might be able to completely encircle their prey.

But it is difficult to sneak up on a wood elf in the forest and its not long before the orcs are spotted. Seeing the coming danger, the male prepares to stand his ground. With his injured leg, he cannot flee, but perhaps he can buy enough time for his mate and offspring to get to safety.

But at the moment, all they have spotted are the center group of orcs, not those on the wings. The three females flee further up the trail, hoping to reach the safety of the larger group of wood elves, still continuing their migration, unaware of the danger behind them. In doing so, the three head straight towards one of the groups of orcs flanking them. At the last second, the youngest spots a dark shape in the underbrush and raises a cry. They turn and run and the chase is on.

Ordinarily, this is a contest which would favor the lighter, swifter elves. Supremely adapted to life in the woods, they nimbly dart between trees and through underbrush, quickly opening up the distance between them and the heavier orcs, relying on sheer bulk to crash through branches and shrubbery.

But one thing they lack is stamina, something the mountain orcs possess in near limitless abundance. Had the elves someplace safe to flee to, they could escape easily, but with the orcs blocking their direct path back to the rest of the tribe, it becomes a matter of seeing if the orcs will give up before the elves tire.

Back at the path, the main group of rocs have closed in one the male elf. He’s managed to hit two of them with his bow, but now the rest have closed in, encircling their prey with the same cunning and coordination of the pack of wargs. Turn as he may, the elf can’t stop one of them from closing in behind him. The struggle is brief.

While two of the orcs begin stripping anything of value from the body and begin the grisly business of butchering their prey, the rest see to the two injured orcs. One is in a bad way, hit in the gut with an arrow, he is now likely to last long. Without waiting even that short time, three of the other orcs prepare to finish him off and begin butchering as well. Like most species of orcs, mountain orcs are cannibals and will gladly eat their own wounded and dead. The second orc is only lightly hunt in one leg. He gives a warning growl to the others not to try the same with him. They back off. The two bodies they have now will feed the back for the immediate future. Meanwhile, they will watch the injured orc closely for any further signs of weakness.

Meanwhile, the chase is coming to a close. The orcs, running tirelessly, begin to close the gap once more as the three wood elves tire and slow. Sensing they are at their limits, the mother turns at bay, for a final, desperate defense of her daughters, but it is futile. The orcs close in and sweep over them. Unlike the unfortunate male, though, the females are not killed out of hand. Unarmed and exhausted, they cannot put up a fight so there is little risk in taking them prisoner. Live meat keeps better, they have found, and so mountain orcs will often keep captives for days, weeks, even months. Besides, the three may be useful in other ways. So, as with their other catch, the orcs quickly strip the females of anything that might be useful to an orc, even tearing the clothes from the elves bodies in their search.

Besides mastering primitive stone tools, mountain orcs have learned to weave a rough, crude, but strong fiber rope from plants growing in their rocky habitat and they display a surprising proficiency with knot work in trussing up their victims. A stout branch, ripped from a nearby tree, serves as both something to lash an elf to and a handy thing for two orcs to carry her by. The rags of their clothes, held in by a turn or two of rope, will keep them quiet.

After retracing their footsteps, the successful hunting party rejoins the rest of the herd. They seek out a secluded place in the brush to rest and decide their next move. It has been a good day’s hunting for the orcs. The loss of a single member of their pack is a small price for three captive elf maids. The extra meat from the dead orc will keep them from going hungry which gives the tribe another option of what to do with their prisoners.

In recent years, mountain orcs have begun to learn to communicate and trade with not just other breeds of orcs, but other humanoids as well. This band knows from previous experience their captives, all three young and in good health, are worth more at the trading post then the small amount of meat they could bring slaughtered. This is what the leader of the pack proposes. But his voice is not unchallenged.

Among the orc tribes, challenges for leadership are frequent and bloody. The challenger is not as big as his opponent, but he’s younger and not as tired from the long chase like the current leader. In the coming struggle, those qualities may make the difference. There is little ceremony or pause. No sooner has been challenge been issued then the two go at each other, meeting with a tremendous crash and roaring. No weapons are used. This is a contest of strength, claws and tusks. Both rear up, slamming into each other, the goal being to force the other onto the back and go at their soft throat and belly with the tusks.

The rest of the pack scrambles to get out of the way of the scrum. At the last second, a couple of them remember to drag their valuable prisoners clear of the combatants. An errant stomp or a toppled foe would be enough to crush one of the frail elves. The terrified captives can only lie, struggling in the tight ropes, unaware the outcome of this contest will determine their own fates.

Meanwhile, the two challengers continue, back and forth, both bleeding from a score of wounds. The chieftain is tiring faster, but youthful energy will only get his opponent so far. He overextends. This is all the opening the chieftain needs and he is quick to take advantage. He throws the challenger to the ground with a mighty crash and goes through the throat. In an instant, it is all over. Maw stained black, the victorious orc bellows his triumph, watching the rest of the pack warily. He’s tired and he’s wounded. Now would be the perfect opportunity, should any of the others decide to issue a challenge.

But with an example of the high price of failing such a challenge before them, none of the others are quite so eager. At a bark from their leader, they prepare to move out. While several hurry to unceremoniously strip and butcher the fallen challenger, others hoist up the captive elves. The terrified prisoners don’t know it, but their chances of survival have just increased significantly. This extra supply of meat will help keep their captors from going hungry for several more days at least and keep them from ending up on the menu instead. Still, they are not out of danger just yet.

It’s a long, hard trek out of the Sylven Woods and back to the foothills of the pack’s mountain home, where they know of a human trading outpost where the three can be traded for metal weapons and tools, meat and other things of value to the orcs. Unexpected delays could lead to food running out and hungry orcs. But if all goes well, they will arrive, battered and scared, but alive and trade the short, precarious lot of orc captives for the safer, though perhaps not much better life as slaves in the human lands.

Meanwhile life, ceaseless, uncaring, wild, goes on...