Rocka vs. Tragnash:

  Fergus stepped forward, his voice booming across the arena.

  “And now, for our next match! Rocka of Clan Urgnash-Yal faces Tall Tragnash of Rak?Ash! Who will emerge victorious? Who will rise above? Let us find out!”

  A hush rippled through the stands as the crowd took in the stark contrast between the fighters. Tragnash towered over Rocka, his massive frame packed with bulging muscle, every movement radiating raw, effortless power. Rocka, by comparison, looked almost out of place—his gut protruding slightly, his form softened by years away from training, hunts, raids. Doubt flickered across the faces in the audience, whispers of uncertainty spreading like smoke.

  Yet Rocka planted his feet firmly. Whatever he lacked in stature, he forced into resolve. The Tengwar tournament would decide if strength alone ruled the day—or if something deeper lay within him.

  The tension mounted as Rocka and Tragnash faced one another in the center of the arena, eyes locked in a silent challenge. The air crackled with anticipation.

  Kraken sat back staring with conviction, Goram stood firm despite his injuries, and Traken leaning forward, eager to see.

  This is it, Rocka told himself, steadying his breath. No turning back now. Focus. Trust your instincts. Stand your ground.

  Tragnash swung his mace in a lazy, menacing arc.

  “Indeed it is. You’re in for a world of pain, keg belly. I hope you’re ready to beg.”

  Kraken, the Battle Master, stepped forward to signal the start. Rocka and Tragnash crouched low, muscles coiled like springs.

  “Fighters, ready yourselves!” Kraken commanded, raising his hand.

  “On my mark…”

  A heavy silence fell over the arena.

  “Begin!”

  The arena exploded into motion. Rocka and Tragnash charged with ferocious intensity, weapons colliding in a storm of steel. Sparks flew. Sand burst beneath their feet.

  “Oh, what a spectacle, folks!” Fergus shouted, voice cracking with excitement. “Rocka and Tragnash are locked in a fierce battle—neither willing to give an inch!”

  Blow after blow rang out like thunder. Rocka fought with everything he had, each strike fueled by desperation and stubborn pride. Tragnash met him with overwhelming force, every swing of his mace threatening to break through Rocka’s guard.

  “Damn you, Tragnash!” Rocka growled through clenched teeth, his stamina beginning to waver. “I won’t let you best me!”

  “You’re all talk, puny man.” Tragnash snarled. “Let’s see if you can back it up!”

  Their weapons collided again and again, each clash more frenzied than the last. Sweat poured down their faces as they pushed themselves to the edge, driven by a primal instinct to dominate. But Rocka felt the strain first — his breath turning ragged, his limbs growing heavy far too quickly.

  Fergus’s voice boomed with manic excitement.

  “This is truly phenomenal, folks! Tragnash appears to be toying with Rocka — and he’s not slowing down!”

  Tragnash grinned and snapped a vicious kick into Rocka’s chest, sending him skidding across the sand.

  “Arggg!” Rocka groaned, pain flaring through his ribs.

  I can’t afford to falter now, he told himself as he forced his body upright. Dig deep. Find something. Anything.

  “You will fall. This is like playing chicken.” Tragnash taunted, confidence dripping from every movement.

  “Hard hit from Tragnash — but that can’t be enough for Rocka… can it?” Fergus cried.

  Rocka grunted from the whack, he scooped a handful of sand, and flung it toward Tragnash before rushing in. But Tragnash didn’t even flinch. He closed his eyes, sensing Rocka’s approach.

  “That’s just cute! Did you just learn that from the first match?” Tragnash jeers as he laughs.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  Rocka burst from the dust cloud, aiming for Tragnash’s back — but Tragnash sidestepped with effortless precision and swung his mace in a brutal arc. It smashed into Rocka’s ribs, the crack echoing across the arena as Rocka screamed and was hurled across the sand once more.

  “And there it is, folks!” Fergus shouted over the uproar. “A devastating blow from Tragnash sends Rocka flying!”

  Rocka gasped, eyes wide, feeling the unmistakable stab of cracked ribs. Rage surged through him. He forced himself upright and charged with a desperate roar.

  Tragnash chuckled. “Adorable.”

  “Suffer!” Rocka bellowed.

  The crowd erupted as Tragnash effortlessly countered the charge, smashing Rocka back to the ground with brutal efficiency. Standing tall, Tragnash raised his weapon high, chest heaving, basking in the roar of the arena.

  Fergus laughed and clapped.

  “What a warrior! Tall Tragnash, everybody!”

  Rocka struggled to rise, disbelief twisting his face.

  “No… noooo…”

  He lifted his shield and staggered backward, mind racing, panic clawing at his throat.

  The cheers shifted.

  Jeers.

  Insults.

  Disgust.

  Whispers spread like wildfire — Rocka was retreating, Rocka was breaking, Rocka was done.

  Tragnash began to walk toward him, savoring every step of his easy victory. Rocka could only hide behind his shield as Tragnash closed in, ready to strike again.

  “Hey, face your foe!” one orc shouted.

  “Don’t fight like a coward!” another bellowed.

  “Hiding behind his shield like a child!”

  A final voice cut through the noise:

  “He’s no true orc — a disgrace to Urgnash?Yal!”

  Tragnash sneered as he closed in.

  “You’re done, pudgy one. I’ve had my fill, a good warm up for when I become Battle Master. For you see, this fight is mine.”

  With a single, brutal swing, Tragnash shattered Rocka’s shield. Wood exploded across the sand.

  “Tragnash has destroyed his shield — Rocka is finished now!” Fergus cried as the crowd erupted in savage delight.

  Tragnash roared in bloodlust and descended on Rocka, pummeling him mercilessly. Kraken watched in horror, torn between his duty as Battle Master and the sight of his son being beaten into the dirt. Rocka tried to crawl away, but Tragnash dragged him back and kept striking. Rocka’s screams echoed through the arena until his voice broke, his face bloodied and swelling, consciousness slipping.

  Fergus sneered.

  “It looks like this match is set! Tragnash is our victor! May Mau-Lak have mercy!”

  The crowd chanted Tragnash’s name in triumph.

  Tragnash smiled widely, like a child with glee from a game. Tragnash raises his arm ready to deal the final blow, Rocka powerless to stop him…

  “Enough!” Kraken’s voice thundered across the arena.

  A stunned silence fell.

  “What’s this?! The Battle Master speaks!” Fergus gasped.

  Tragnash froze mid?swing, immediately showing deference. Rocka lay crumpled in the sand — broken, humiliated, barely breathing.

  Tragnash raised his voice for all to hear.

  “Battle Master! I request satisfaction. This orc has forsaken Tengwar, the Urgnash?Yal name, and our stronghold. Mau?Lak demands his reckoning!”

  The crowd murmured, judging Rocka’s failure, his complacency, his shame.

  Kraken inhaled slowly, then spoke.

  “Aye, that he has, but this was no challenge, Tragnash you are a mammoth and he is but a hound.”

  Tragnash raises an eyebrow and responds, “Battle Master I urge thee to reconsider, his weakness demands satisfaction, the tenets deems it so.”

  “That it does, however, my rule is final, but I will maintain fairness, let me deal with my mistake, you already more than proven yourself.”

  “But Battle Master…” Tragnash shouts in disbelief.

  Kraken shouts over Tragnash, ignoring his plea, “I said nay. Rocka, of Clan Urgnash?Yal… you have disgraced yourself — and us — as a warrior, as an orc, and as my son. You have grown obese, decadent, and degenerate. In light of this pivotal event, as Battle Master, I can no longer overlook these offenses and transgressions of our tenets and way. Many demand satisfaction… including your opponent.”

  The murmurs erupted into fury.

  Debris rained into the arena.

  “He’s weak!”

  “Filthy human?lover!”

  “Give Tragnash his satisfaction!”

  Kraken raised his hand.

  “The rightful judgment,” he declared, “is for your opponent to strike you down.”

  The crowd roared in approval.

  “However!” Kraken thundered, silencing them instantly.

  “Rocka… you are my son. And so you will be spared — at the cost of my name and legacy.”

  A stunned hush fell over the arena.

  “Father no!” Goram shouts in disagreement as he walks out of the armory.

  Kraken silences Goram with a hard stare and turned to Tragnash.

  “You have won this battle. But for the sake of my bloodline, you will spare him.”

  Then he faced the crowd — and his broken son.

  “Rocka, from this moment forth, you are stripped of your clan name, your resources, and your honor are hereby forfeit. You are no longer my son. You are no longer of Urgnash?Yal. Today… you are an orc no more.”

  Silence.

  Even Tragnash did not smile.

  Rocka lay in the sand, hearing the sentence that ended his life as he knew it.

  Goram and Traken averted their gaze, unable to look at Rocka. Shame hung between them like a heavy fog. Around them, the other orcs jeered and spat their displeasure.

  Traken muttered under his breath, “Good thing Mother isn’t here to see this.”

  Tragnash stepped forward, frustration flaring.

  “Master — but my glory!”

  Kraken’s voice cracked like a whip.

  “I have spoken!”

  He pointed toward the arena gates.

  “Take him away. Toss him outside for the human filth to do with him as they please.”

  Rocka lifted his head, just enough to meet Kraken’s eyes one last time. He couldn’t move — his body was broken, his ribs screaming, his limbs limp. Tears of humiliation stung his eyes as the workers seized him by the arms and dragged him across the sand.

  He passed through the gauntlet of spectators, their faces twisted with contempt. Debris and insults rained down. What should have been a moment of glory — a proving ground — had become a walk of shame.

  Behind him, the crowd erupted again, chanting Tragnash’s name. The cheers grew fainter with every dragging step, fading into a distant roar as Rocka’s vision blurred at the edges.

  The last thing he heard before darkness took him was the triumphant scream of the arena — celebrating the warrior who broke him. Sand scraped his back, jeers ringing in his ears, darkness closing in.