My first memory was of my father killing someone. I was 4 or 5 years old, and an orc war chief of a rival clan that we were fighting with had challenged him to a duel over some supposed insult. I later learned it was a complete lie.

They stood ten feet apart. No weapons, no armor. My father, Uthred Drakeslayer was imposing even to other orcs. 6ft 7inches tall with a thick musculature. Scars crisscrossed his entire body, blind in one eye, and a mane of ebony black with just a hint of gray hair, His tusks were long and chipped as only an old orc warriors tusks can be.

The thing that stood out to me the most though was his totem brands. The first was his Bloodfyre totem. Crimson red brands of fire curled up his arms to his shoulders.

His second totem was much fainter, but even so, it was just as dangerous a power. It was the Ruler totem, a small, black, jagged crown on his forehead.

His opponent, an orc whose name I never learned. He was as a young adult orc, 7 feet in height tall, with a leaner, more defined build. Very few scars, and a long mohawk. His totems were what appeared to be a giant bear skull branded over his own face, and faint claws over his hands. I never learned what the names of his totems were.

I was next to my father's second wife Nela, watching from the sidelines. When the Taskmaster called for it to begin, they both charged and tore into each other with a ferocity I have only seen matched by wild beasts.

Uthred pulled power from his Bloodfyre totem, causing crimson flames to surround his arms. Each punch he landed causing severe burns.

His opponent staggering from the punches seemed to pull power from his own totem. Gaining half a foot in height, and easily another hundred pounds.

"ROOAARRRRRRR"

Roaring, The challenger charges again, sending wild punches. Uthred steps in close, easily dodging the wild swings, before sending a hard uppercut to the taller opponents chin.

Staggered, the challenger takes a couple of steps back to stop himself from falling. Uthred presses the attack, sending several well-placed punches to his chin, and ribs.

The challenger falls onto his back, dazed under the onslaught of blows my father gave him. Straddling him, Uthred starts sending strong hammer fists at the opponent's face and throat.

"Enough!"

Yelled an old warrior orc of the rival clan. I later learned that was the war chief of the rival clan. Uthred glares at him, no fear, only contempt.

"He hasn't yielded, he has to yield for this to end,"

Said Uthred in a deep rough voice like gravel honed from years of yelling on the battlefield.

"Son, yield! you can't win" said the war chief.

The challenger, the rival clan war chiefs son, refused to speak. Glaring at my father out of the one eye that wasn't swollen from the blows he had received. Spitting a tooth out, he continued to glare before saying

"fuck you old man, this isn't the end of this. So hurry up and finish it."

Sighing, my father grabbed the challenger by his hair and dragged him in front of the rival war chief. Staring old orc warrior right in the eyes, he grabs the still struggling challenger and snaps his neck.

The crack seemed to age the rival war chief by decades as he stared at his son's lifeless body. Stepping on his corpse, Uthred kicks it to the rival war chief before saying.

"His death is on your hands, you should have stopped him from making this stupid, pointless challenge. Today, I had to kill a child because you coddled your son. Take his body, and get out of my sight."

Before turning away. Walking towards me, my father in a rare moment of affection, patted my head before heading into our family tent. Following him inside, I saw him sitting in his chair, staring at his bloody, and bruised hands.

At the time, I wondered why he did that. Now I know, he was looking at the new stains added to his hands that only he could see, The stains of killing another. Looking up, he stares at me for the longest minute of my life before saying.

"Go get me some water to wash off boy"

Rushing to complete the task, I pull water from the clan well. Filling the bucket as full as I can I struggle to carry it back to our tent, before filling the tub inside.

After several trips, I grab some Sunstones with tongs and place them under the in the tray under the tub. the water starts to warm up as I inform my father the water is ready.

"Good, now go help your mother"

If before the fight he seemed like an invincible warrior, he now seems like a tired old man. Limping from a previous injury that had never healed right. He gingerly sat in the tub and scrubbed his skin raw.

That was my first lesson on what it means to be an orc warrior, and it has stayed with me to this day. My father didn't want to kill the young orc who challenged him. But, looking at his face, my father knew that the war chiefs son was arrogant, always getting his way.

Uthred knew if he let that boy live, he would do anything, hurt anyone to get revenge for a petty argument. So as much as it pained him, he did what he had to do to protect the clan. Because that's what orc warriors do, we protect the clan, no matter the consequences.