Prologue
Forbidden flesh, so tempting in candlelight,
Its sweetness calls out to me in the still of the night.
A taste of desire, the flavor of the unknown, be wary, for its consequence is untold.
Once, there was an age when the Elven people governed the realm of Terrestris. However, their downfall began with Cassian, the first of many male elves, who became stripped of light, abandoned by the Elvish God, and remade into an abomination for delving into the forbidden. The elven monarch exiled Cassian, the first orc, and those after him to Urangar, an un-cultivated continent.
Centuries passed, and the Elves came to find that the Orruk race flourished in their banishment. They saw this new thriving race as a stain in their lineage and aimed to eradicate them. The Elves sought an alliance with the Humans to wage war on Urangar to wipe out the orc race. They underestimated the power of the Orruk and lost many during the conflict. The Humans were not blind to the newly created weakness of the Elves. They turned on them and extinguished the weakened Elven monarchy.
The Humans ran out of resources to continue their plight against the Orruk. Despite the bloodshed, they could not rid Urangar of the orc race. The remaining orcs were left to occupy the north and the southern plains. The Humans maintained control of the rest of the continent. Since they could not purge the Orruk through warfare, they found other means to debilitate them. They blocked all trade and travel to the north and south and spread rumors that spanned through many generations born after the wars, essentially blaming the Orruk for the attack on Urangar.
It did not help that orcs were known to terrorize and seek vengeance on humans who dared to enter their territory, but otherwise, they left the humans alone. There was a time when they did seek peace with the Humans and Elves, but Humans portrayed the Orruk as animalistic beasts that raped and pillaged, thereby justifying their actions toward the hordes.
Nearly five hundred years have passed since the war on Urangar. There was still animosity between the Orruk and the Humans. Seven-year-old Jasper Bloodborne was already witness to the strained relationship. He clung to Helena’s skirt as large raindrops dribbled from the dreary sky overhead. He had hardly sprouted his first tusk. He looked past the scene before him, watching the gusts of wind create ripples in the green, cloven pasture.
The weight of a hand rested on his shoulder, causing his thoughts to return to the present. He looked up to see Bulrok beside him, donning a solemn expression. Jasper was glad it was raining. He wanted to be the toughest of orc warriors. The rain disguised his tear-stained cheeks. Warriors don’t cry, Jasper, he reminded himself now that his father was not there to do so.
Finally, his sight settled on the linen-cloaked body. It used to be his father, Flint Bloodborne, one of the greatest Orruk warriors; now, it was just an empty vessel that once housed his father’s essence. Jasper had already lost his mother to sickness. Flint had been cut down by humans while patrolling, leaving Jasper without his parents.
Bulrok and Chief Solomon lifted Flint’s body and returned it to the soil. Jasper promised himself that his father’s memory would live through him, unaware he would someday be the next chief of the Northern Orruk Horde. Jasper, not unlike Cassian, the first of many orcs, would have an allure for the forbidden.
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