Page 16 of Scoring the Orc

The days pass in a blur of menial tasks and harsh commands. Jurto’s orc servants are no less intimidating. Their guttural language, filled with growls and snarls, echoes through the hallways, and their imposing frames tower over me, making me feel even smaller and more vulnerable.

One morning, as I’m scrubbing the kitchen floor, one of the orc servants barges in, nearly knocking me over. His massive frame blocks out the light from the doorway, casting a shadow over me. He barks something in their harsh language, and I flinch, not understanding a word he says.

“What did you say?” I manage to ask, my voice trembling.

He snarls, pointing to a pile of dirty dishes that was just dumped in the wash bin. “Clean,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument.

I nod quickly, scrambling to my feet and hurrying to the sink. As I start washing the dishes, I can feel his eyes on me, watching my every move. The tension is suffocating, and I struggle to keep my hands steady.

Jurto enters the kitchen, his presence instantly commanding attention. He glances at the orc servant, then at me. “What’s taking so long, human?” he demands.

“I-I’m doing my best,” I stammer, my voice barely audible over the clatter of dishes.

“Your best isn’t good enough,” he snaps, stepping closer. “Hurry up, or I’ll find a way to make you work faster.”

The orc servant chuckles, a deep, rumbling sound. I grit my teeth, my hands scrubbing furiously. The anger and sadness inside me bubbles up, making it hard to focus.

“What did I do to deserve this?” I whisper to myself, the question hanging in the air.

Jurto’s sharp ears catch my words. He grabs my arm, yanking me away from the sink. “What did you say?” he growls, his face inches from mine.

“N-nothing,” I reply quickly, my heart pounding.

“Don’t lie to me,” he snarls, his grip tightening painfully. “You think you deserve better? You’re here because you’re weak. You’re here to serve. Understand?”

Tears well up in my eyes, but I blink them away. “Yes, Jurto,” I whisper, my voice hollow.

He releases me with a shove, and I stumble back to the sink, my body trembling. As I resume washing the dishes, I can feel the anger boiling inside me. Why is he doing this? Why do they all take such pleasure in my suffering?

The orc servant eventually leaves, but the oppressive atmosphere remains. Jurto’s brutish behavior is a constant reminder of my helplessness, and each day feels like an endless struggle to survive.

But somewhere deep inside, a small spark of defiance remains. I cling to it, knowing that as long as it burns, there's still a part of me that Jurto can't control. And that gives me the strength to face another day.

Despite everything, I try to be strong. I try to hold on to that small spark of defiance. But each insult, each command, chips away at my resolve, and I wonder how much longer I can endure this torment.

Isolated and afraid, I feel completely alone on this estate. Not another human in sight, just orcs who regard me with disdain or indifference. Each day is a reminder of my captivity, and each night, the silence amplifies my loneliness. I yearn for home, even the dubious safety of Aleryn's house. Despite the dangers there, it was a world I understood, a world where I had some semblance of control.

At night, I lie on the narrow cot, staring at the dark ceiling. My mind drifts back to that fateful zyrphix match, the moment my world was shattered. Tears well up in my eyes, and I bury my face in the thin pillow, weeping silently. My sobs are muffled, but the anguish is all-consuming.

“This can’t be happening,” I whisper to myself, my voice breaking. “Why did this happen to me?”

The darkness offers no answers. And there is no one to hear my pleas. No one to rescue me from this nightmare. Enslaved by monsters, I see no hope left for my bleak future. Each day blurs into the next, a monotony of suffering, and I struggle to hold on to any shred of hope.

As I weep into my pillow, the memories of my old life feel like a distant dream. A world where I was free, where I had choices. Now, those memories are all I have to cling to, a fragile lifeline in this sea of despair.

But as the nights stretch on and the days grow darker, I wonder how much longer I can hold on. How much longer I can endure this torment before I break completely.

12

JURTO

“It was a great practice,” Rogar says as he claps me on the back.

I grunt in response as we leave the training quarters. In truth, my mind wasn’t totally focused on the game. Instead, I kept seeing fiery red strands and bright green eyes flash behind my eyes.

Which only led to my violent nature in the arena.

Krodash joins in. “You were a beast out there!”

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