The Breaker

The summer heat hung in the air like a damp cloth. Cicadas chirped at all hours, and longer days meant more time for fun. A young half-orc ran around the outskirts of the stronghold taking full advantage of the extended daylight to play after supper. Her face was caked in streaks of mud — her “war paint” — which made locks of her unkempt mop of black hair stick to the sides of her face. In her hand she clutched a dirk — her “sword” — and ran about the bushes hacking and slashing away at the branches with a jagged-toothed grin. The blade was truly fashioned like a miniature sword, with a bloodstone imbedded in the center of its uniquely-shaped guard and a matching one inlaid in the pommel. Every once in a while when she would spot a squirrel or a chipmunk, she would ready her trusty “sword” and try to sneak up on it and go in for the kill, and every time it would escape her.

She spotted a bird about ten feet from her. She knelt down, readying her blade and stepped lightly through the tallgrass. Her bright yellow eyes were fixed on her target the entire time, just like how mohn had taught her. Her shadow loomed above it like a great beast’s, and with a swipe of her blade, her target’s head was- Ah.The sound of flapping wings and fervent chirping let her know the only thing she had offed was a few of its feathers.

“You know you can’t kill anything with a dumb little knife, right?” a voice sounded from behind her. She whipped around to see a few more kids from the stronghold standing behind her. The girl huffed at them, sticking the point of her blade in their faces. 

“I’m Lash the Breaker of clan Kaggrig, sworn sword of the Gold Fang!” she blurted out. “And this isn’t a dumb knife, it’s Dark Heartstriker, and you won’t think it’s so little when I shove it into your guts!” She made a threatening jab, but the group of orcish kids just looked amused with her delusions of grandeur.

“Dark Heartstriker, huh?” a girl in the back sneered. “Looks more like a toothpick to me. Is that what humans use for longswords? You gonna slay a giant with that?”

“Not until I slay you first!” the dagger-wielding girl growled, baring her tusks at the group through her “war paint”. They were only about half as large as the others’. In general, she was a bit smaller overall compared to them. Some of them snickered. She jabbed the point closer to them.

When she did, the boy in front suddenly grabbed her wrist, twisting it to wrest the dirk from her hand. The girl yowled but refused to let go, instead thrusting her knee up to his chest. It connected dead center and she was able to tear her hand away from his grip as he stumbled. Before the others in the group could stop her she was already swinging wildly with her dirk and shoving him back, finally knocking him to the ground and leaping on top of him with a furious screech. He snarled, grabbing frantically at her with his clawed hands to prevent her from cutting his face open. She met him with her own claws, snarling and yowling more like a rabid animal than an orc and raking her hands and knife down his arms and face. The other kids in the group tried to pry her off, grabbing and pulling at her matted hair and clothes, but were only met with gnashing teeth and more erratic knife-swinging. She managed to land a slice on one of the opposing girl’s arms before going back to trying to make Dark Heartstriker live up to its name. 

Suddenly the other kids stopped trying to grapple her. Like her shadow was over that bird, a shadow came over Lash the Breaker and her opponent. A large hand grabbed her by the collar and dragged her backwards off the boy. She was powerless against it and continued to growl and thrash a little before she was pushed gently into the dirt.

“What in Gruumsh’s name are you lot doing?” An orcish woman towered over the children, her voice commanding and stern. Gold accessories adorned her from her scarred face, to her tusks, to her long braided hair. She wore countless necklaces, cuffs, and other gold regalia all over her muscled body to signify her status and strength, as if her mere presence wasn’t frightening enough. With her she carried a truly enormous curved sword on her back. She glared down at the group of scrappy children with crossed arms, awaiting an explanation. 

Lash the Breaker leapt up and began jabbing at the other kids again. “That’s right! Screw off, shiteaters!” she spit, but they were backing away in fear of the force behind her, not her ferocious blade.

“Kenasif. That’s enough.” The woman again had to reach down and physically restrain the little half-orc before she sliced someone open. The rest of the children scattered. 

“When I taught you how to use that I didn’t mean go around and try and kill your friends,” she scolded. 

“They aren’t my friends, mohn,” Kenasif pouted. “They called Dark Heartstriker a toothpick.”

The orc had to stifle a laugh, which got a furious glare from her daughter. 

"They wouldn't be entirely incorrect, but that's about as big a sword as Lash the Breaker can carry right now." She ruffled her daughters hair playfully, but Kenasif batted her away. 

"Nuh-uh! I lifted a longsword at dahn's once! And swung it!" Kenasif insisted.

"Oh? Did you hit anything?" her mother asked, raising an eyebrow. Kenasif looked like she was about to say 'yes', but her eyes fell to her feet instead. Her mother knelt down and put a calloused hand on her shoulder. Kenasif looked up at her, her face twisted up in frustration. She looked so powerful to the little half-orc, the most mighty and worthy rider of the Gold Fang horde that ever was and will be. She never lost a fight, she never backed down, and she never surrendered. It was something Kenasif had been trying to emulate all her life, but she could not even swing a sword properly yet.

"It's okay, Kena. There aren't many children that can swing a longsword right."

"Khurna did!" Kenasif whined.

"You are not Khurna. I’m sure dahn was proud you could even hold a sword like that upright." She gave her daughter a reassuring smile.

Kenasif’s expression softened a bit. She remembered how her father had smiled under his thick, ash-covered beard when she held the longsword up without wavering and swung it around with wild, unpracticed strokes in the yard behind his forge. She remembered the soft thump it made hitting the dirt and ripping up the sparse, leaving little divots all over the yard in her wake. 

That had to be nearly two months ago, now. With contracts coming in faster than the Horde could take them, her mother was needed here at the stronghold and out in the field. As one of the heads of the great clans of the Gold Fang it was her duty to make them prosper in times like this, Kenasif knew that. They had battles to fight and clients to protect, and their services were in such high demand that it employed nearly every clan in the horde. Her mother didn’t have time to bring Kenasif back to her father’s little village, and it was too far a journey for her to go alone, as much as she insisted she could handle it herself. She had Dark Heartstriker, after all, and she did a pretty good number on those kids just then, so why not? Even if it was just a dirk, she was quick, ferocious, and knew exactly where to sink it to give a quick death. Her own mother had taught her that.

“When will we go back to Azebhad?” Kenasif asked. “Dahn said he was gonna make a sister to Dark Heartstriker so you can teach me to fight with both hands.”

Her mother let out a bellowing laugh. “Did he now? Is that how you would like to fight, little Lash? With twin blades?”

“Yes!” Kenasif grinned, using both her arms to pretend to stab the air. 

“He made me my sword too, you know.” The orc reached behind her and unsheathed the massive blade from her back and knelt down to rest it on her knee. Kenasif’s pupils widened as she stared starry-eyed at the weapon. The blade of it was uniquely shaped, curving slightly with the tip of it ending in a small hook. Orcish-styled carvings had been inlaid in the metal with care. It was truly a seamless blend between orcish and human blacksmithing styles that only a few hands could make.

“Sabertooth…” Kenasif marveled, running her little hands along the face of the blade. Her mother nodded.

“A gift to me on our wedding night. Your dahn was quite the romantic.”

“Eeewww, gross,” her daughter whined, scrunching up her face and sticking her tongue out. Her mother rolled her eyes.

“Someday you might inherit this sword, little Lash. You should learn to use a single-handed weapon like this. Dual-wielding is extremely difficult to use while staying mounted.”

Kenasif’s ears perked up at that, her face splitting into a grin. “Does that mean you’ll teach me both? Will I be able to train with Sabertooth?!”

The orc chuckled and patted her daughter on the shoulder. “Maybe in a few years. I don’t think you could lift her right now, but someday. We can work our way up to it, yeah?”

Kenasif was nearly jumping out of her skin. The thought of one day wielding Sabertooth practicality made the little half-orc’s mouth water, but that was so far down the line and she had about as much patience as a nested bird ready to fly. For now, Kenasif would have to focus her excitement on getting a sister for Dark Heartstriker and beginning her training in earnest. If Kenasif were lucky, her father wouldn’t be done making her yet and would maybe let her help finish. Then she’d have to think of another cool name...

Throatcutter? Meh...

Widowmaker, maybe? No, too overused... 

Warfury? Hmm, that sounded a little better… But it would be hard to top Sabertooth.

Kenasif gave her mother a quick, affectionate headbutt and ran off to find Khurna. Deciding on a badass name for a sword was the perfect job for a best friend.