The End of the Skullcrusher Warband: Ragnar's Interlude

Ragnar and his group of five remaining orc bandits rode hard toward their main encampment, the sun sinking below the horizon behind them. They had been riding for hours, circling through the wilderness and flat lands without a set destination, just trying to shake off whatever invisible thing had foiled their earlier raid on the market of Blendingbrook, in case it was following them. Only when they were certain it wasn't did they finally turn toward home.

As the horses galloped on, Ragnar couldn't stop the flashes from the earlier event playing in his mind on repeat. For no reason, his men, good orcs, strong orcs, just started to fall off their horses, not hit with a weapon or blasted with any magic they could see.

What sort of trick could that have been?

Had the people living in the town developed some kind of defense against bandits?

The horses began to slow as the encampment came into view. Ragnar could see the orc-made structures, watchtowers, and iron-spiked walls surrounding the entire area.

They were almost there.

A few minutes later, the horses arrived at the base, and Ragnar and his men quickly descended from atop their mounts.

"Take them to the stables," he barked to his remaining men. "I shall commune with the Lord Chieftain."

The orcs did as they were told, and Ragnar began making his way toward the main tent, his battle ax slung across his back. On his way, he started to hear the rumors of his failure already spreading.

"Isn't that Ragnar?"

"Yeah, didn't he storm out with fifty orcs this afternoon?"

"Where are the rest of his men?"

"Did something happen?"

He mostly ignored the whispers and continued marching toward the tent of the chieftain. Upon arrival, he removed his weapon and set it aside.

"Lord Chieftain, it is Ragnar," he called from just outside the entrance.

"Come in, Ragnar." A voice boomed from the interior. The sound alone was enough to make Ragnar swallow in fear. Nevertheless, with what little courage he had left, he stepped inside.

It looked like the Lord Chieftain was enjoying some company from a few female orcs, about three of them, slender in figure, voluptuous in curves, and hanging onto his every limb: arms, back, and even his...

"Ragnar." The Lord Chieftain's voice cut through the air. "Focus. Tell me what news you have brought forth."

Ragnar immediately dropped to his knees in front of the chieftain, his armor clanking as he fell.

"My lord chieftain," he said, lowering his head and keeping his gaze fixed on the tent floor. "I bring unfortunate news."

"Unfortunate?" The chieftain's voice rumbled. "Explain yourself, Ragnar."

The chieftain raised his hand, and the three female orcs who had been servicing him quickly rushed out of the tent.

"The raid on the market earlier today was unsuccessful, my lord," Ragnar began. "We were foiled, and all of our men were arrested."

"What?!" the chieftain shouted, rising to his feet in the nude. "What kind of army was capable of standing in the way of your orcs?"

"It wasn't an army, my lord," Ragnar corrected, making sure to instantly lower his head at the sight.

"Who, then?" the chieftain barked. "What was it? What had hindered you from plundering that useless town to the ground?"

"It was some kind of entity that blended with the wind, my lord," Ragnar said in haste. "Impossible to see, impossible to beat. It used common household items to cut down the rest of my soldiers. Myself and the remaining five were barely able to escape. We did not return immediately. We rode for hours and prayed that this invisible entity hadn't followed our trail or accidentally been led here to the base."

"An invisible entity?" the chieftain repeated, his angry voice rising with incredulity. "You expect me to believe that fifty of my best orcs were laid low by wind? By some kind of spirit?"

Ragnar remained bowed, his whole body trembling with fear.

"I beg your forgiveness, my lord," he pleaded. "Though I will understand your judgment if it is not granted. I have shamed my tribe."

"I am disappointed in you, Ragnar. I thought you were ready. That you were capable of leading an entire platoon to a town all on your own. And now look at what's happened."

The chieftain slowly sank back down into his bed.

"You must be punished for your failure. For allowing our brothers to be captured. A beheading will be organized come the morning, and..."

While calling out his sentence, the chieftain suddenly trailed off, his gaze shifting upward. A sound was growing louder by the second, something coming from above.

To Ragnar, who had also lifted his head to listen, it sounded like something shooting through the sky, a piercing whistle that grew louder and louder, all while drawing closer.

"What is that?" the chieftain gasped, quickly reaching for parts of his armor and putting them on.

The two orcs rushed out of the tent to investigate what was happening. Entire tribes had stepped out of their homes as both Ragnar and the chieftain found everybody looking up at the sky in bewilderment.

The sound grew closer and closer, a high-pitched screech that wailed through the sky, causing Ragnar and the remaining orcs to be unsettled and disturbed. He didn't know what it was or where it was coming from, but something deep in his gut told him this was the end of everything.

Just when he thought he might be overexaggerating, he was blatantly proved wrong. A figure, dark and heavy, descended from the heavens in a blur and struck the earth at the center of the camp, causing the very ground itself to break apart. A non-stop quake rippled through the soil following the shockwave, and orcs went stumbling to catch their balance.

"Fools!" a voice suddenly exploded, rumbling through the entire encampment. "Look upon me! Who do you think you are?"

Ragnar could only gasp when he finally saw who they were dealing with.

Empress Vesperia.

The former Demon Queen.