Chapter 66 – Orzun and the Werewolf Fortress
**[UNDERGROUND WORLD – GLOWING FOREST]**
**Silence** — tense and heavy, broken only by the soft sound of wind blowing through the bright electric-green foliage. The group remained **motionless** in defensive positions.
**Dagon**, **Keara**, **Jelim**, **Steve** — eyes **fixed** on the treetops ten meters above, tracking the **rapid movement** between branches: a dark silhouette **leaping** from branch to branch at a speed almost impossible to follow completely, appearing only as a **black blur** outlined against the forest's green glow, with practically **no sound** (footsteps as light as feathers touching wood).
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**Ten** seconds of observation — the attacker continued **circling** the group in a predatory pattern, not attacking again but **assessing**, looking for an opening.
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**Dagon** — his right hand, which had been **gripping** the war axe, slowly **released** the handle. His arm **retracted**, fingers **touching** the sheath on his back. The axe **slid** back into place with a soft metallic SHHHING, now fully sheathed.
Voice coming out **calm** and commanding, without urgency:
"**Jelim**." Simple tone. "This one's yours."
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**Jelim** — her plain white mask **turning** slightly toward Dagon, head **tilting** five degrees downward in silent acknowledgment.
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Hands **raising** in front of her body, fingers **extending** with palms facing upward, posture relaxed and not tense.
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**Magic** — **activated** silently:
There was no verbal incantation, no dramatic glow, no spectacular visual effect — it simply **happened**.
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**Attacker** — movement **stopped** abruptly:
The body that had been **leaping** between an adjacent branch suddenly **froze** mid-air three meters above the ground, posture held exactly as it was (legs **bent** preparing to push off, arms **extended** for balance, torso **leaning** forward), but now completely **motionless**, floating in space as if suspended by invisible strings.
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It **tried** to move — muscles **visibly contracting** under the clothing in an attempt to force movement, but the body **did not respond** to brain commands, trapped by an absolute external force.
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**Jelim** — hands **moving** slowly: palms turning downward, fingers **curling** slightly as if holding an invisible object, arms **descending** gradually in a smooth, controlled motion.
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**Effect** — immediate:
**Attacker** — body **descending** vertically through the air in a controlled manner (not free-falling but **guided** precisely), at a constant speed of half a meter per second, exiting the treetop at ten meters height, passing through intermediate branches (not colliding but **floating** between them), reaching the small **clearing** where the group stood, landing five meters from Dagon (still floating ten centimeters above the ground, feet not touching the soil).
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The forest's electric-green light — finally **illuminated** the attacker, completely revealing its features:
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**Young Orc** — **not** a grotesque monster but a distinct humanoid:
**Age**: apparent seventeen to nineteen years old (human equivalent; orc maturity may differ).
**Height**: one meter sixty-five (short compared to adult humans but proportional to his body).
**Build**: **slender** and agile rather than massive — estimated sixty-five kilos, **defined** but not bulky muscles (sprinter, not bodybuilder), narrow shoulders, slim waist, **long** legs proportional to his body (adapted for running and jumping).
**Skin**: **light moss-green**, soft and smooth (not the dark grotesque green of surface orcs), texture apparently **flawless** without obvious warts or imperfections, almost **pastel** delicate tone.
**Face**: surprisingly **non-monstrous** features — **fine** almost elven bone structure, defined but not protruding jaw, **small** straight nose, **normal** forehead without heavy brow, **pointed** ten-centimeter ears elongated upward (vertical rather than sideways like elves), **small** five-millimeter tusks protruding from the lower lip (present but discreet and non-threatening).
**Hair**: pure **black**, short length to the nape, **smooth** texture not wild, simple unstyled cut.
**Eyes**: **dark brown** almost black, normal almond shape, currently showing intense **rage** mixed with growing fear as he realized the situation had drastically worsened (captured, immobilized, floating and vulnerable).
**Clothing**: simple functional **warrior** outfit — sleeveless **tanned** brown leather tunic covering the torso (no metal armor, minimal protection), **sturdy** thick dark-green fabric pants to the ankles, **light** knee-high leather boots (thin soles for silent movement), wide **belt** at the waist holding a sword sheath.
**Weapon**: **short sword** gripped in the right hand — sixty-centimeter blade, five centimeters wide, **iron** material worked artisanally (not refined steel but competently forged raw metal), dark wooden handle wrapped in worn leather, no elaborate decoration (functional, not ceremonial).
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**Expression** — **furious** and desperate:
Eyebrows **furrowed** intensely, lips **curled** in a snarl showing small tusks, eyes **widened** with a mixture of rage and growing panic as he realized the situation had worsened dramatically (captured, immobilized, floating and vulnerable).
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**Voice** — **shouting** loudly and desperately:
"**LET ME GO**!" Angry, broken tone. "You **COWARDS**! You fight using dirty magic instead of facing me directly! **RELEASE ME NOW**!"
Body **struggling** against the invisible force holding him, muscles **tensing** extremely in an attempt to break the magical control, but absolutely **useless** — Jelim's control was perfect and unbreakable.
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**Dagon** — observing the young orc struggling, expression **softening** slightly, voice coming out almost **paternal**:
"He's just another **kid** too…" Low tone, commenting more to himself but audible to the group. "Just like Steve when he first arrived here. Young, scared, attacking first out of fear."
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**Orc** — continued **shouting**:
"**COWARDS**! RELEASE ME! FIGHT LIKE HONORABLE WARRIORS!"
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**Dagon** — sighed heavily, beginning to **walk** slowly toward the floating orc, steps **calm** and deliberate, non-threatening, stopping two meters away, head **tilting** upward to meet his eyes.
Voice coming out **firm** but not aggressive:
"Hey, you." Commanding tone to get attention. "Why did you **attack** us without any prior provocation? Explain your reasons right now."
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**Orc** — gaze **turning** to Dagon, expression shifting from pure rage to rage **mixed** with confusion:
"Don't play **INNOCENT**!" He shouted. "You know **VERY WELL** why! Don't insult me by pretending ignorance!"
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**Dagon** — expression **hardening** slightly, voice gaining a controlled edge of irritation:
"Hey, kid." More serious tone. "I have enough **years** of existence—" (eighty-three years lived, sixty as a veteran adventurer) "—to know when someone is lying or being genuine. And I'm telling you with absolute **sincerity**: we know **NOTHING** about what you're talking about."
Pause — crossing his arms:
"So **spit it out** right now. What exactly did we supposedly do to deserve your attack?"
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**Orc** — hesitated, expression showing **growing doubt** as he processed Dagon's genuine tone, but still **defensive**:
"How do you expect me to feel **safe** talking when I'm being **attacked** by **YOU** right now?!" Voice trembling slightly. "Floating here helpless and vulnerable while you surround me armed!"
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**Dagon** — processing the argument, nodding **in agreement** with the logic:
"**Fair** point." Recognizing tone.
He turned his head — looking at Jelim ten meters away:
"Jelim, **let** him down."
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**Jelim** — hands **opening**, palms turning upward, fingers **relaxing**.
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**Magical control** — **released** instantly.
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**Orc** — body **falling** the remaining ten centimeters, feet **touching** the soft grass, knees **flexing** to absorb the light impact, quickly regaining balance, hand **gripping** his sword hilt instinctively.
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**Dagon** — without moving his hand toward his own weapon, maintaining a **relaxed** non-threatening posture:
"So." Calm voice. "Now start **talking** — the full truth."
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**Orc** — took a deep breath to **regulate** his racing heartbeat, then began to **speak**, voice trembling at first but gaining firmness:
"I… I **attacked** you because you are **humans**…" Pause. "You are humans exactly **like** the humans who came to my village three days ago and **completely destroyed** our peaceful village…"
Voice gaining an edge of **growing rage**:
"That's why I wanted to **take revenge** on you… to kill humans like the humans who killed my people…"
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**Dagon** — processing the information, expression **clearing** with understanding:
"**Okay**." He nodded. "Now the full context makes **complete sense**. — Small non-mocking smile. — Now the **misunderstanding** is clear. You mistook us for a different group of humans."
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**Orc** — but he did **not** calm down; instead — rage **exploded** at last, finally released:
Teeth **grinding** audibly, fists **clenching** and trembling, eyes **filling** with tears of accumulated frustration and pain, voice **shouting** with a tone of rage mixed with despair:
"What **MORE** do you humans want from us?!" Tears **sliding** down his green face. "Me and the few orc survivors from the surface were **hunted** mercilessly by the Church of Nellis just because it is **against** the existence of monsters, categorizing all non-humans as extermination threats!"
Breathing **gasping** and irregular:
"We orcs, together with **thousands** of other different races — goblins, kobolds, ogres, trolls, all demi-humans — some races managed to **flee** the surface in desperation and found **shelter** here in the underground world, thinking we would finally be safe far from human persecution!"
Voice **breaking** with emotion:
"And you humans **still** pursue us even here in the underground world! You **kill** us coldly! And you even **kidnap** and enslave us!"
He fell to his **knees** on the ground, fists **pounding** the grass:
"What did **WE** ever do to you humans to deserve systematic genocide?! Why can't you simply let us **live** in peace away from you?!"
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**Silence** — heavy and charged, the group processing the emotional outburst.
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**Dagon** — expression **completely softening**, walking **closer** to the kneeling orc, crouching beside him at equal height, hand **resting** gently on his shoulder.
Voice coming out **soft** and paternal:
"What is your **name**, kid?"
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**Orc** — looked sideways at Dagon, still **hesitant** and distrustful but emotionally exhausted:
"**Orzun**…" Low voice. "My name is Orzun…"
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**Dagon** — nodded, small **reassuring** smile:
"**Orzun**." He repeated the name respectfully. "Strong good name. Listen carefully to what I'm about to say now."
Pause — eyes meeting his:
"We're going to **go** after the rest of your captured people and **save** as many as we can. We will free the prisoners, defeat the captors, and ensure the safety of the survivors. That is my promise to you right now."
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**Orzun** — eyes **widening** in absolute shock, mouth **opening** as he processed the words:
"**Why**…?" Genuinely confused voice. "Why would you do this… if you are **also** humans like the oppressors…?"
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**Dagon** — stood up, extending his **hand** to help Orzun rise:
"Because we **didn't** come here to enslave races or spread genocide." Firm, honest tone. "We came looking for a **cure** for someone in our group. We have no interest in unnecessary conflicts or oppressing the innocent."
Pause — looking at the group behind him:
"And because **helping** those who need it is simply the right thing to do, regardless of race or species."
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He turned his body — beginning to **walk** toward the forest ahead:
"Let's **go**." Commanding voice returning. "We have people to save."
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**Keara** and **Jelim** — began **walking**, silently following Dagon.
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**Steve** — approached Orzun who was still **kneeling** and processing everything, hand **extending** offering help to stand, small gentle **smile** curving his lips.
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**Orzun** — looked at the extended hand for five hesitant seconds, then **accepted** it, fingers **gripping** Steve's wrist (orc custom for warrior greeting instead of shaking hands), allowing himself to be **pulled** to his feet.
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Both — began **walking** together, following the group ahead.
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**Five** minutes of silent walking through the glowing forest.
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**Dagon** — without turning his head, voice **asking** loud enough for Orzun to hear:
"Do you have any **specific** clues about the location where these human captors and prisoners might be?"
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**Orzun** — answered from behind:
"**Yes**." Serious tone. "They are **allied** with the werewolves of this forest region."
Pause explaining:
"It works like this: the werewolves **guard** and imprison other captured races in their fortress, while these mysterious humans **regularly** go out hunting together with the werewolves as partners. A mutually beneficial symbiotic relationship, apparently."
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**Dagon** — **stopped** abruptly, turning his head to look at Orzun:
"That is **not** normal werewolf behavior at all." Confused tone. "Werewolves are **solitary**, territorial, and aggressive creatures that don't follow external orders or form alliances with other species. What is happening here?"
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**Orzun** — nodded in agreement:
"That is **true** normally." Explaining tone. "But the thing is that these humans are **using** something or **offering** something extremely valuable to the werewolves, and they simply **obey** commands blindly like domesticated dogs. I don't know the exact details of their agreement."
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**Dagon** — processing, **worried** expression:
"**Understood**." Serious voice. "And the path to this werewolf fortress is in the direction we're heading?"
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**Orzun** — pointed **ahead**:
"**Yes**." Confirming tone. "Straight northeast for about two more kilometers. The fortress is in a large clearing near the river. Impossible to miss the location."
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**Group** — continued **walking** at a steady pace.
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**Ten** minutes of walking.
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**Steve** — who had remained **silent** processing everything internally, finally **spoke** in a low voice only for Orzun beside him:
"Hey… Orzun… what's your full name, if it's not rude to ask?"
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**Orzun** — looked sideways, surprised by the casual question:
"Just **Orzun**." He answered. "Orcs don't use family surnames like humans. A single name is enough."
Pause — looking at Steve:
"And you? What's your name?"
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**Steve** — small **smile**:
"**Steve**." Simple tone. "Just Steve too then."
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**Orzun** — nodded, silence **falling** again for three seconds, then a genuinely curious question **slipped** out:
"**Steve**… tell me about this 'cure for someone' that the guy up front—" (Dagon) "—mentioned earlier…"
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**Steve** — expression **changing** to a **sad**, melancholic smile:
"It's actually for **me**…" Low voice. "I have some… **complicated** problems. There's a power and a spirit inside me that I can't **control** at all. And it's all supposedly **connected** to a race called… Nessira."
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**Orzun** — **stopped** walking abruptly, eyes **widening**:
"**SERIOUSLY**?!" Voice rising in surprise. "The **NESSIRAS**?!"
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**Reaction** — instantly drew **attention**:
**Dagon** ahead — body **freezing** upon hearing the name, ears **perking** but pretending not to have heard while continuing to walk (clearly listening to everything).
**Steve** — eyes also widening in surprise at the reaction:
"You… you **know** about them?!" Anxious, hopeful tone.
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**Orzun** — took a deep breath, continuing to walk more slowly now:
"I don't **know** them exactly…" Careful explaining tone. "But I know **about** them from what I've heard from tribal elders."
Pause:
"That Nessira race is practically the most **reserved** and **mysterious** race of all in the entire underground world. No one knows the exact location of their territory. It's **almost impossible** to observe or see them personally unless it's during extremely rare **important** events linked to the fate of the underground world."
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**Steve** — processing the information, question **following**:
"So you've **never** seen them personally or heard detailed reports about them?"
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**Orzun** — shook his head **no**:
"**Not** directly." Honest tone. "But that they **definitely** inhabit the underground world somewhere deep and hidden — that is **absolute certainty**, confirmed by multiple reliable elder sources."
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**Steve** — hearing this, a small feeling of **hope** igniting in his chest:
**Internal** thought:
*So they really exist here… maybe… maybe I can finally become **free** from this uncontrollable power… maybe I can go back to living a **normal** life…*
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**Fifteen** additional minutes of walking — **total** two kilometers from the destroyed orc village.
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**Dagon** — arm **raising** to signal a stop, body **crouching** low behind a large bush, voice **whispering**:
"Everyone **hide** immediately. Now."
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**Group** — obeyed instantly: Keara crouched behind a thick tree to the left, Jelim simply remained motionless, merging with the shadows (passive ability?), Steve and Orzun crouched together behind a dense bush on the right.
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**View** — through the vegetation fifty meters away:
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**Fortress** — **primitive** but functional construction:
**Material**: thick **wooden** logs fifteen centimeters in diameter driven vertically into the ground forming a palisade, five meters high, **circular** perimeter one hundred meters in diameter, **single** front gate three meters wide reinforced with horizontal crossbeams.
**Watchtowers**: four simple towers at the corners (north/south/east/west), eight meters high, made of wooden structures that allowed a complete view of the surroundings. Each tower was occupied by a werewolf on guard duty.
**Werewolves** — patrolling:
Visible quantity: six outside (two at the gate, four on the towers). Unknown quantity inside.
**Appearance**: permanent hybrid form (neither fully human nor wolf, but a midpoint): two meters tall, massively muscular build weighing one hundred twenty kilos, skin covered in dense dark-gray fur, lupine head with elongated snout and pointed ears, hands with fifteen-centimeter black claws, digitigrade legs (walking on toes rather than the full foot), upright bipedal posture, and glowing yellow eyes.
**Equipment**: mostly unarmed, relying on their natural claws and fangs. Some carried simple heavy wooden clubs.
**Movement**: patrolling in an organized, non-chaotic manner (the two at the gate remained fixed in position, while the four on the towers constantly turned their heads, sweeping the perimeter). Their behavior was disciplined — unnatural for wild werewolves.
**Orzun** — whispering from his hidden position:
"This is where they keep the captured and imprisoned races." Low voice confirming.
**Dagon** — still crouched while observing the fortress, expression serious as he planned. He turned his head to look at the group behind him:
"Very well." Low, tactical commander voice. "Our immediate next objective is to invade that fortress and free all the imprisoned peoples inside."
Pause — looking at each member:
"Jelim." He pointed. "You will use your magic to levitate and work from above, flying over the palisade to attack from a superior angle, causing confusion and distracting the enemies."
"Me, Steve, and Orzun." He gestured to the three. "We will take the direct frontline, attacking the main gate and engaging in close-quarters combat to occupy the majority of the enemies' attention."
"Keara." He looked at her. "You will stay behind us at a safe distance, providing all possible support: healing us when injured, covering our flanks with arrows, and warning us of unseen dangers."
He looked at everyone again to check for understanding:
"Ready?"
The group — nodded silently in agreement: Jelim tilted her mask, Keara nodded determinedly, Steve swallowed nervously but agreed, and Orzun gripped his sword hilt, ready.
**Dagon** — a confident warrior's smile curving his lips as he rose from his crouched position, smoothly drawing the axe from his back.
Voice ringing out loud and commanding:
"Then **LET'S GO**!"
And they charged — exploding out of the vegetation cover. Dagon led from the front at maximum speed, Steve and Orzun flanking on the sides, Keara twenty meters behind at a steady pace, and Jelim's body levitating upward to ten meters in height.
**Werewolves on the towers** — eyes focusing on the group emerging from the forest, mouths opening to let out sharp howling alerts — *AAAWOOOOO* — that echoed through the area, bodies turning to prepare their defense.
**Combat** — was imminent.