Chapter Text
It was… hard to move. Not worth it, really. Better to just lie here, among the dead. Gonna be joining them soon enough. Black blood, hot and sticky. Curse that Elf-king, and curse that spear that had gutted him like a mewling whelp. Impaled by the Elf-king. What a disgrace.
He groans heavily and shifts. It hurts, so he stops. Hot, panting breath in his ear – oh, not good. “What do we have here? A wiggler?”
He tries to spit an invective, but blood trickles from his mouth instead as he hacks on agonizing coughs. Pawing hands with iron strength check him over for wounds, and the evil voice shudders with laughing glee. “Been awhile since I’ve had a good meal. Think you’ll be a good one. Fresh meat, mm…”
He lunges, snapping. The snaga scuttles back, raising its paws. He settle back with a groan and a snarl. “You’ll wait until I’m dead, or I’ll make sure I’m the last meal you ever eat,” he threatens.
The smaller orc squats on its haunches. It can wait: he is fading fast, and they both know it. Every so often it twitches towards him, and he drives it back with bared fangs.
He lets his head thump back on the unforgiving ground, panting hard. The snaga sneaks closer; cold steel at his temple. It still won’t risk his fangs, but it is willing to help him on his way.
“Say goodbye,” the evil voice gloats. Doesn’t matter. He was dying anyway.
Everything goes black.