The camp where Duggâsh was stationed, he shared together with two other warchiefs. One even more arrogant than the other, and equally stupid. Duggâsh knew they would not support him. They only followed the Tribe leader cause he gave them a position where they could occasionally fight and have fun. Their ambition went no further. Duggâsh on the other hand had been brooding plans from the moment on he become a warrior, from the moment he earned the right to fight alongside his brethren. And the time had come to perform another part of his plans...
Duggâsh knew the other warchiefs would be jealous over the fact he brought the bod of a ranger with him, to share with his men. Although a warchief, he had not many Orcs under his command. That and the fact the other warchiefs used Duggâsh as the youngest one that had to pay respect towards them, made him lose most of his Orcs if futile fights or raids. "Time has come to pay them back" he thought as one of the warchiefs stumbled towards the firepit where they were roasting what seemed to be a human once. "Oi you maggot! You dare bringing a stinking ranger with you and keep him for yourself!? Hm?" Saliva flew all around the place as the Orc spoke to Duggâsh, while holding a near empty skin filled with booze in his left hand.
Duggâsh simply shrugged and turned his back towards the warchief. The lack of response and turning his back to the other Orc was a large insult, and all the other Orcs around knew that. Every conversation fell silent, Orcs looked up from their dinner or whatever else they were doing. Every one gazed upon the two: one warchief clearly as drunk as he could be, and the other sitting with his back towards him. "How dare you insult me! Filthy worm! I'll gut you, and rip your liver from your living corpse myself!" Now was the moment. Duggâsh, though still a quite impressive, near black skinned Orc, looked but small compared to the other warchief. But he did not mind. No, not at all! Instead, he growled a challenge! "You speak of my insults, while you do nothing more! Fine, I challenge you now, I, Duggâsh from the Tarkrîp clan!" A moment of silence lingered over the camp, but then a wild, near ecstatic cheering and growling came from their ranks! Finally they'd get something worth to look at!
It took a while before the other warchief realised what was going on. Suddenly, his eyes widened from surprisement. "You dare challenge me! Hah! I'll rip you apart with my bare hands!" Without even awaiting any signal or something, the warchief rushed forward, drawing his rusted axe from his belt. But Duggâsh came prepared... Within the blink of an eye, he drew his greatsword. The cold, black painted blade held next to him, he awaited his enemy to come close enough... "Kill that Duggâsh!" or "Kick him into the ground!" were several Orcs shouting, mostly supporters of the other warchief. Swept by their cheers, the warchief raised his axe and sent it down with a powerful blow from his right to his left. Though Duggâsh saw the attack coming, as his opponent was too slow due to his drink. He easily ducked underneath the blow by stepping to his left, the direction of where the blow came from, this way evading the attack. And now it was his turn...
While stepping underneath the axe, he swung his sword upwards from his right to left, cutting open the belly of the other warchief. He followed this action immediately by turning slightly towards the passing Orc, swinging the sword down from his left to right. The sword cut through flesh and bone with ease, black blood gushing out of the gaping wound of his opponent. The warchief was dead even before he hit the ground, torn open from the left side of his neck to his right hip. "RAAAAH!" Duggâsh let out a terryfing roar after licking the blood from his blade and smearing it over his face. He held out his sword and pointed it at several warriors of the former warchief. "I am now your warchief! I killed yours in single combat, and he knew the risks! Now I leave it up to you! Join me, or die!"
Imposed by the big black Orc, covered in blood of their former leader, caused all the Orcs of the killed warchief to bow before Duggâsh. "We are yours to command now, warchief!" said the righthand of the killed Orc. "Then pick up your arms and armour! Come with me and earn glory, my warriors!" Duggâsh shouted out loud. He knew the other warchief would not be tricked to single combat. Besides, his warriors saw the blood of their former warchief. They needed something to avenge his death on. And that were the other surviving warchief and his warriors. The Orcs roared, a sound like thunder rolling over the plains, at the promise of more bloodshed. They grabbed whatever weapon they could find and followed Duggâsh and his sworn warriors into the fray, ready to spill blood for their new leader...
