text: Chapter I: Humble Beginnings
  
  You stand in front of a large hut, watching as your two older brothers, Gruzub and Mazkil, fight with large wooden clubs, battering each other until they're bleeding profusely. Your oldest brother, Bagig, appears in the doorway of the hut.
  
  "Dag!" he shouts, "Come on! We have an appointment with Lurkhim Deathforge."
  
  Bagig stands at 6'4 and towers over you. His green skin ripples with muscles that make his black tattoos of wolves and bears ripple as his sharp teeth curve into a grin. Despite being a fearsome monster that would make most men run in terror, he's the kindest of your brothers and probably one of the nicest Orcs in the village. You nod, and eagerly rush over to follow him as he begins walking towards the center of the village.
  
  "Now, promise me you won't tell Mama what we're doing. I can imagine her shrieking. 'Oh, Bagig! What were you thinking, giving a sword and dagger to an eight year old!' She'd howl louder than a dragon that's lost its tail!"
  
  You giggle, smiling at your brother.
  
  "Still, you're an Orc, for fuck's sake! What does she expect you to do? We were born to spill blood."
  
  Eventually, you come across the stone forge. Rows of iron swords, axes and maces are stacked there. Lurkhim appears behind the forge, working on a large war axe. She's heavily scarred from years of battle and forging accidents, her face being so scarred you can barely tell if she's angry or cheerful.
  
  "Hello! Look who it is, it's Dagden Youngblood! You're getting so big, aren't you? Big enough for a sword, hmmm?"
  
  "Yes, Lurkhim."
  
  "Damn right you are. I had a sword twice my height at your age. Ran it through a neighboring boy who tried to take my apples, I recall. Ah, the days of youth."
  
  She leads you over to the weapons rack, and picks out a tiny dagger.
  
  "There. Try it out. It should be well balanced for someone of your height."
  
  You look at the blade, filled with disappointment, and Lurkhim bursts into laughter.
  
  "Ha! I'd be ashamed to give that to a baby!" she says, grabbing a much larger sword from a rack.
  
  "Here. Stain it red, Dagden. May your life be long and your enemies' short."
  > take a few practice swings
  You take a few swings of your blade. It takes some effort and strength to properly swing the heavy blade, but it does work quite well.
  
  "Hey! Watch it, you little shit!" Bagig growls, as you realize you've sliced open his knee.
  
  "Oops."
  
  "He's already drawn blood. A promising start," Lurkhim grins.
  
  "We're not called Red Blades for nothing," Bagig says, rubbing dirt into the cut.
  
  "Sheath your blade, Dag, you're not in a battle yet, despite how much you may hope," she says, handing over a tiny leather belt that looks custom made for you. 
  
  You put the belt on and quickly sheath the weapon.
  
  "Now, shall we get you a dagger? A dagger for Dag? Fitting."
  
  You nod eagerly, as she takes you over to a row of knives. You look through them.
  
  "Go ahead. Pick your favorite. You can tell a lot about an Orc from the dagger he picks. Whether it's gilded or plain, big or small, large or short..."
  
  You quickly eye your favorite.
  
  "That one."
  
  Lurkhim laughs, picking it up. It's a deadly sharp knife made of bone, simple yet elegant.
  
  "Ha! I like your choice! So many boys your age pick the biggest or the shiniest. You know what you want, Dagden."
  
  You smile, as she hands you the knife.
  
  "Keep it in your boot, so you always have it. An Orc should never be caught without a blade handy. Do you know what kind of knife that is, Dagden? What kind of bone is it?"
  > dragon
  "Dragon?"
  
  "Ha! A clever one, aren't you? He knows what he wants, Bagig, and what it's made of. Damn right it's dragon. A fierce, fiery red Dragon, slain by your grandfather Chieftain Torag. Alright, then. I have a damn many axes that need to be forged. Go now, Dagden, and make sure that knife tastes a lot of blood in its life."
  
  "Thank you, Lurkhim."
  
  "Of course," Lurkhim smiles.
  
  "Come on, Dag, let's go home," Bagig says.
  > head home
  You walk out of the forge, your new sword swinging at your side and you bone dagger tucked away in your boot.
  
  "Now, if Mama asks, I was taking you to practice milking goats."
  
  "Yes, Bagig," you nod.
  
  You walk along home, the same time Dendar arrives.
  
  "Bagig! Are we still taking the twins out hunting?"
  
  "Damn right we are!" Bagig laughs, leaning into you. "Do you think I could get Gruzub and Mazkil to eat deer droppings?"
  
  You giggle and nod eagerly as Dendar bursts into laughter.
  
  "Damn right we're getting them to eat deer droppings."
  
  Bagig pats you on the head, before leaving to grab his bow and head off to hunt. You watch as they leave, quickly breaking into a jog which the twins struggle to keep up with. You quickly rush inside and hide your sword under your bed, though you keep the dagger hidden in your boot. 
  
  "Dag! We're going to the woods to go gather eggs and fruit!" You hear Oragga, one of your friends, yell from outside your house.
  
  You smile, and eagerly run outside to see her. It'll be a fun day.
  > Six Months Later...
  "Dag!" you hear Dendar yell, and you rush up from the goat fields towards the Chieftain's Hut.
  
  "I'm here!" you yell, shouting as loud as you can.
  
  You rush up and reach the Chieftain's Hut. You see Dag waiting there, his bow on his back.
  
  "Dag! We're going hunting!"
  
  "Hunting?" you say, shock, excitement and exhilaration all hitting you at once. "Really? I can't wait!"
  
  "Now, you're only nine, but I think you deserve to go. The twins weren't allowed to go until they reached double digits, but they're idiots."
  
  You laugh, and rush off to your room. You grab your warmest, toughest boots and put them on, sliding your knife in the boots. You grab your sword and sheath and put it on, finally grabbing the brand new Oak Bow that you've been practicing with every day you've had it. You sling it over you shoulder, as well as your arrow sheath, and rush out to meet Dendar.
  
  "Hey! Where are you going without saying goodbye?" Mama yells. 
  
  You stop, pausing to turn around and rush off. Papa and Mama sit in front of a roaring fire. Mama knits as Papa polishes his blade, as usual. You give Papa and Mama a kiss each.
  
  "I love you both."
  
  "I love you too," Mama replies, sweet as always.
  
  "I'll love you if you bring me home a boar," Papa says, which causes Mama to gently stab him with a knitting needle. "Hell, we don't need to say it every thirty seconds for fuck's sake. My Papa told me he loved me when I was born, when he died, and the day I bit out the throat of Lark Ramshead for calling Mama a whore. I still knew he loved me 'till the end. I love you Dagden, you know that.
  
  You nod, and rush off with Dagden. Time to hunt. You have a feeling you'll catch a hell of a lotta food.
  > The next night...
  You were wrong. You sit by a dwindling campfire, looking out into the darkness.
  
  "Well, this wasn't a great journey," you say softly.
  
  "It was fucking miserable," Bagig replies, holding up your catches; three crows, a rodent and a young deer that had just taken its first steps when you shot it.
  
  You hear the cracking of small branches nearby.
  
  "Bagig...!"
  
  "I know," Bagig whispers. "Deer, probably."
  
  You slowly grab your bow, not wanting to startle the prey.
  > stay still and let Bagig kill the prey
  You stay very, very still, waiting patiently for Bagig to strike. Bagig motions at you.
  
  "It's your kill, Dag. I've killed enough deer. You need to get blood on your hands."
  
  "Thanks," you say, eagerly raising your bow.
  > go over to kill the prey
  You creep over towards the noise. You move through the trees, until you face a massive wall of leaves. You push the leaves aside, and move forward. You stop as you knock into something suddenly. You raise your hand, touching the a massive furry wall.
  
  "What..." you begin to wonder, before getting smashed across the woods by a clawed paw.
  
  You fly through the air, landing on the cold earth. You quickly stand, despite the fact that blood is dripping from your face and you have several broken ribs, only to be faced with the snarling face of a massive bear. You scream as it roars, and immediately begin scampering backwards.
  
  "Dagden!" Bagig roars, and you can hear him rushing towards you. 
  
  The bear's warm breath is on you face as it growls.
  > fire your bow
  You fire your bow, hitting the creature in the shoulder. It roars and quickly bats you away, sending you up against a tree trunk and slamming your head against it. You yell in pain as the massive creature lets out a powerful, terrifying roar. You see Bagig sprint over with a sword drawn and quickly attack the bear, slashing its body open with several powerful swings. The Bear stands on two legs, slamming against Bagig. Bagig is flung against a tree trunk like you were, except with more force. Bagig screams as his back is smashed and grabs his sword in an effort to protect himself.
  > help Bagig
  You charge over, and leap onto the bear as you draw your knife. You stab it several times through its side, and it turns and quickly goes forward to bite you. Its mouth goes around your side, biting deeply.
  > scream
  You let out a pitiful scream as the massive creature bites into you. You take your knife and stab it repeatedly through the eye with all the force you have left. You force your dagger deeper and deeper into the bear as it roars, releasing you. You push the dagger further in, straight to the brain. The bear lets out a final roar, before collapsing on the ground. You groan, all the strength going from your legs.
  > collapse
  You lie on the ground, groaning as blood flows from your broken body. 
  
  "Fuck me, Dag! You killed a bear! Dagden Bearbane! A fitting title!" Bagig says, standing.
  
  He stands up, before laughing. He doubles over in pain as he laughs, before smiling again. 
  
  "Well, I feel like hammered shit. You?"
  
  "Yeah, same," you say.
  
  "Come on," he says, picking you up from the ground and dragging you over to the campfire.
  
  He lies you across a log, patting you on the head.
  
  "A nine year old kills a bear. Who'd have thought it? Papa and Mama will be so impressed with you. I'm sure that Oragga girl will be impressed." Bagig winks.
  
  You use the last remaining once of your strength to throw a rock at him.
  
  "I don't like her like that!"
  
  "Sure," Bagig chuckles. "You need rest. You can sleep once you've eaten some bear meat and I've bandaged your wounds."
  
  Over the next hour, Bagig puts strips of bear meat on the fire, bandages himself and you up, and pours alcohol in your wounds, a procedure you'd rather not have done.
  
  "It prevents infection," Bagig chides.
  
  "I'd rather have the infection than have done that!" you moan.
  
  Bagig chuckles, taking a spit off the fire and tossing it to you.
  
  "Go, eat."
  
  You eat eagerly, finishing off every last bit of delicious meat.
  
  "Now you're a true Orc, Dagden Bearsbane," Bagig smiles proudly.
  
  "Is my name really going to be Dagden Bearsbane?"
  
  "Damn right. A lot better than Gruzub and Mazkil Boarsbane," Bagig laughs. "Once I've told Papa, as Chieftain he will decide whether your feat has earned the nickname, which I'm sure he will."
  
  "Cool."
  
  "Go to bed now. Sleep. You'll be healed enough by the morning for us to be able to head home. You did well, Dag. I'm proud of you."
  
  You nod, before closing your eyes.
  > embrace Sleep
  You fall into a sleep. Your dreams are soft and pleasant. You imagine carrying the bear carcass over your shoulder and throwing it in the village square to the applause of your friends and family. Eventually, your blissful sleep is broken by a cold object poking you.
  
  You open your eyes, to be faced with dead, soulless eyes.
  
  "AH!" you scream.
  
  It's the middle of the night, but thanks to the dying embers of the fire, you can make out some of the scene that's unfolding in front of you. A cloaked figure stands above you, a sword clutched in its hands. Its rotting skin is peeling away to reveal a pinkish flesh that the rot has already set into. You almost cry out in fear when you realize that its a an undead monster. It seems to be a zombie, although you've no idea. You've never had undead this far, and the sight of one is terrifying. You see Bagig awaken out of the corner of your eye, with a similar cloaked undead monster above him. Bagig roars, grabbing his bow as the zombie above you stab downwards, at your heart. You roll to the side, the sword impaling through the ground next to you, the cold blade slicing through your clothes and just scratching you to draw a thin stream of blood. The zombie stares at you and growls.
  
  "NO! My brother didn't deserve to be killed by a cursed corpse-fucker!" Bagig roars, firing his bow.
  
  The arrow flies through the air and through the rotting head of the zombie, killing it instantly. The zombie falls to the ground, its body thumping against the ground. The other zombie quickly thrusts its sword downwards, straight through Bagig's heart. Tears begin to well in your eyes as you see Bagig gasp, before falling still. The zombie stands, heading towards you.
  > play dead
  You lie there, struggling to stay silent. The zombie pokes you with its sword a few times, before picking up your sword and bow and tossing it in the fire. It growls, and two more zombies approach. One lifts Bagig up, while the other places its rotting hands around you and lifts you up. It carries you forward, and you see a massive wooden cart, stacked with corpses, mostly human and orc. You struggle not to scream in terror, as you're tossed into the cart. Your small body sinks between two freshly-killed corpses, and Bagig is thrown on top of you. You squirm slightly, moving your head to breath, and struggle not to cry as you see your brother's face, now permanently twisted in pain, his eyes now cold and soulless.
  > wait
  You lie among the corpses for what seems like an eternity. The smell is the worst thing you've ever smelled, but the knowledge that it's dead bodies moving against you is terrifying. Still, you know that the idea of the undead monsters yanking you from the pile and tearing you apart is even scarier, so you stay silent.
  
  You have no idea how long you spend in the cart. How many hours? Hell, it could be over a day by now. Eventually, the cart stops. You hear growls outside, before a shout.
  
  "How many?" a young man's voice cries.
  
  "Twenty-seven. Thirteen Orcs, thirteen Men, one Dwarf."
  
  "A dwarf? I wonder what that small little bastard was doing in that region. Ah, who cares. Prepare them."
  
  You hear zombies yank corpses from the cart. One of them pulls Bagig off you and you close your eyes and go limp. The zombie yanks you forward, and quite gently lays you on the ground. You open your eyes slightly, to see you're being laid out in rows. You're in the courtyard of what appears to be a massive castle made from black stone. You're surrounded by undead monsters, with one exception: A human, wearing hooded black robes, holding a steel sword. His face is paler than bone, and his angular facial features tells you there's probably some High Elf lineage in him. His black hair is slicked back undead his hood, and he eagerly looks at the corpses like a warrior among battle. An undead knight who had been leading the pack rides forward, looking at the man.
  
  "Are you raising them, or is the Grand Necromancer?"
  
  The Grand Necromancer. Papa's told you about him. A cowardly mage who uses raises the dead to fight for him. You know he has some lesser Necromancers, which probably included the robed man.
  
  "No, I shall raise them today."
  
  The Necromancer turns and raises his hands.
  
  "Rise, Minions! The Grim Reaper shall not take you today! Shrug off the eternal sleep and wake!" he laughs.
  
  His eyes turn black as his pupils consume his irises and corneas. A faint blackness appears to flow from his fingertips outwards, enrapturing the corpses. The corpses begin to shudder as the black, magical energy floods into them. Then, the dead begin to rise. Slowly, the corpses begin to stand, their eyes still as soulless as before. The Necromancer pauses, spotting you. You attempt to stand slowly, like the newly created zombies, but stumble and fall flat again.
  
  "Ah, someone from the land of the living is here! Hello!"
  
  Cold hands grab you, and you are yanked up. You crane your neck to see Bagig, holding you in his rotting hands. No, Bagig is dead. Bagig was loving, friendly, funny and kind. This... abomination, has black, soulless eyes. You draw your blade and sink it into the side of his head. Bagig's corpse releases you, and falls to the ground. Bagig has always loved you. His body deserves to rest.
  
  "Ah, a fighter!" the Necromancer laughs.
  
  Rotting hands grab you, and the knife is ripped from your hands. You see several Orcs, seemingly alive, approach.
  
  "What's the issue, Trant?" one of them growls.
  
  "My title is Necromancer Trant, servant of the Grand Necromancer. I will not be addressed as simply "Trant" by some lowly mercenary!"
  
  "Don't make me ask again, Trant!"
  
  "There's a survivor."
  
  The Orc, apparently the leader of a band of mercenaries, looks at you, and you get a good luck at him. He's quite a fair bit taller than Bagig was, although his body is covered with scars. Several scars run across his face, including one that's taken out his eye, leaving a disgusting hole in his face.
  
  "He's just a boy. I doubt he's been on his first hunt yet."
  
  "Well, he should be dead," Necromancer Trant says angrily.
  
  "I ain't killing him..."
  
  You breath a sigh of relief.
  
  "... for normal pay. Five times if you want me to kill a kid."
  
  "Fine. I'll pay out of pocket. I don't want to... bother the Grand Necromancer with this."
  
  "Ha! Hiding something from the Master of Death? Alright then, it's your head," the Mercenary Leader says.
  
  You're dropped by the undead, and the Mercenary Leader quickly kicks you in the chest, knocking you backwards. You fall on the ground, and he grabs your arms. You watch with terror as a chopping block is brought out. One of the Orcs binds your hands with ropes, tightening them behind your back. You're shoved to your knees, and the chopping block is dropped in front of you. Your neck is forced to the chopping block. A bucket is shoved in front of you, no doubt for your head to fall into. The Mercenary Leader is handed a massive battleaxe. 
  
  "Don't worry, kid. I'll make it quick. I'm good with an axe. I've filled that bucket many a time."
  > beg for mercy
  You begin to cry, which turns to sobs.
  
  "Please! I don't want to die! Let me go, I won't say a word!"
  
  The Orc sighs.
  
  "Sorry, kid. Let's get this over with."
  
  The Orc swings the blade with such speed you don't even feel it.
  > death
  Eternal Sleep
  
  Your life force is taken from you as you enter the endless sleep of death.