The air was especially hot, as it tends to be when so many workers are crowded together in the pens. The stink of sweat and waste was nearly overwhelming, as all around the dark cage, the orcs settled in for another rest period. They would have to get as much sleep as possible, before their shift began, and they would return to the fields.

There was much bickering as the workers fought for the corner spots, where one might be guaranteed at least a few hours of undisturbed rest. In the center of the cell, only one figure remained motionless.

Standing, completely nude, surrounded by panting orcs, having just returned from a day's work, was a half-breed. His skin glistened with sweat, as the occasional ray of light passed through the bars of the cell, guards making their patrols back and forth.

His ears twitched, flies picking around in his hair. He was unusually quiet, as he waited for the front doors of the cages to be opened, waited for the guard to arrive for him. This would be the sixth shift in a row he would be spared the fields. His mistress, who's name he never bothered to remember, was considered insane by her peers. She had decided to take up this lonely individual as a house servant. Some whispered of a mental derangment, a physical attraction to orc-blood that would otherwise be unforgivable in anyone poorer than her.

Rotgut could have cared less about how she felt for him. His mind could only think of the dead guard that sat at the bottom of the nearby lake, his neck snapped. He had only been killed for a single item he possessed. A single arrow had been taken, its shaft discarded, the head of that arrow now on Rotgut's tongue.

As that time of the night came, Rotgut found himself once more herded down the dank halls of his mistress' home. She had spent her money lavishly decorating her abode, boasting some of the finest art and miscellaneous finery in all of the small settlement where she lived. Her most prized slave, the "tamed" orc as she liked to think of him, was escorted, in chains, to her waiting room.

She had planned to spend, as she always did, a few hours before bed, reading. And as she had been keen to do over the last few days, she would have Rotgut chained to the wall opposite her cushioned chair. But this night, she would find her underestimation of Rotgut's ferocity sorely evident.

This evening, she would do something that she had never done before, something that would cost her more than she could have dreamed. She would step up to Rotgut, and bid him good night. Then, as planned, she gave a ring of her little bell, as the guard made his way upstairs to take Rotgut back to the pens. But, quickly siezing his opportunity, the greenskin lunged forward, the chains tearing against the metal ring that held them fast to the wall.

She screamed and fell back, the glass bell shattering on the stone floor. The guard, hearing this, readied his spear and darted up the stairs. The orcblood roared in defiance, struggling against the chains. He had gauged the length of the ties incorrectly... he was just short of her by a foot or so, as he bared his fangs, his arms reaching out for her.

The guard had reached the landing above the stairs, and raced down the long, dark hall toward the master bedroom. Rotgut roared once more in orcish, as he gave one final, massive tug at the chains. With a great commotion, the metal rings burst away from the wall, as Rotgut fell upon his mistriss. Wrapping his left arm around her waist, he spit the arrowhead into his other hand.

The door flung open, the guard moving in, his spear brandished daringly ahead of him. From below, a great roar came up as the orcs heard the sound of their halfblood brother ripping free from the wall. They chanted to One Eye, and for a moment, the whole house shook.

Rotgut held the arrowhead to the drow woman's neck as he scrambled backwards, away from the guard. The soldier hesitated, keeping his spear at eye level with the monster.

The halfblood sighed, as his heart slowed down. He looked to his hostage, then back to her guard. Surrender wasn't an option... he'd be killed for his attempted escape. Giving one final roar, he raked the arrowhead across her neck, letting her body drop.

The drow spear hit home with a -thud- as the point pushed through his right shoulder. Rotgut stumbled as he was shoved into the wall, the guard pulling back on the spear, so as to strike a second time. The half-orc blood's boiled as he ducked under the attack, charging into his opposition. Tackling the man down, he brought his fangs to his neck, tearing away at the flesh with great, monstrous bites.

Rising to his feet, he quickly grabbed the spear, and raced downstairs. Rushing past the cells, which were filled with cheering orcs, Rotgut burst out the door of the home, and looked around. From across the settlement, two guards were running to intercept him. Luck had been with him, but it wouldn't be for long.

So turning his back to the small community, he ran into the darkness, with nothing but the drow spear. Stumbling down through the caverns, he gave a roar of triumph as he slid down through some bushes, and down another tunnel. He had almost no chance of finding the city spoken of in the legends, almost no chance of finding Sanctuary... but he had come too far to give up hope. He -would- find freedom, one way or another.

//feel free to leave comments, suggestions, concerns etc...//