[b]Hogun Shantrix[/b]

"What, are you -" Were the only words a normally verbose, and long-winded tongue of Hogun Shantrix could make coherent. Truxis, his elephatian son, the young mountain of Cowfallow, puffed his chest and let out a thunderous roar that blared out of his dual-trunked nose. It was a call-to-arms meant to rally the farmhands, but all it did was make Hogun's stomach churn. 

"Come on, father!" Truxis pleaded. His prepubescent voice was no different than a human boy's. He cast aside the giant mound of crops slung from his back, making a loud thud next to Hogun. "They need our help!" 

"No, Truxis! Don't!" Outstretched hands did little to restrain his child's determination. Like a lone ant trying to hold back a dung beetle, Truxis ended up dragging his father along with him to the bridge. When Hogun felt the heat from the burning village, he released his futile grip and desperately stepped in front of the young elephatian with his hands raised. 

"Stay here, Truxis!" But his son didn't listen. Against the hued flames of their burning village, the elephatian stood at the foot of the bridge like a glowing statue, parting the rushing river of Cowfallowers into two streams. Truxis radiated the bravery of a god warrior. It was clear that the spirit of his mother, Letra, commanded him. Nothing was going to stop Truxis now. Hogun sighed. 

He turned and took in the magnificent display of Kalem's balance before him. The panicking souls desperately running away towards death, and those, like him and Truxis, willing to meet it. But why is he so reluctant? Now, When finality of this lifetime has been a longing of his since past failures as a would-be mage. He looked back at the young elephatian and nodded. 

[i]By grace of Kalem, Letra, do not force our son's next life upon him so soon... not before his father's, you beautiful tyrant![/i]

Hogun puffed his chest like his son did back in the fields. Already, other farmhands were crossing the bridge and navigating through the wave of people, farm tools raised. Despite the crisis at hand, the most basic of emotions still took over. Jealously. Embarrassment. Shame. Hogun wasn't going to let his son outdo him. He sensed an ill-advised opportunity to instill courage and clumsily ran with it. 

"Let us go, seed of Letra! Son of the will-be great arch mage of time and space! And... anyone else!" He randomly unsheathed two knives from his utility belt, one of which stumbled around in his hands and fell to the floor. Truxis bent just low enough to scoop the blade with his trunk and transferred it to his hand. Hogun pulled out the next tool, two small blades welded together to make a shear. "Let's go see what the color of orc's blood looks like! I was always curious as to whe-" 

Truxis' trunk roar blared out Hogun's unhelpful rally, nudging him forward to finally take action. Father and son both clambered forward and tag-teamed on the first green-skinned intruder they found. A dense blanket of smoke made it tough to see, and tougher to navigate through, but a silhoutte could be made out raising what looked to be a sword. "There!" Hogun blindly leaped forward, shear and skinning knife raised. 

"NO FATHER!" Truxis' large palm reached for his father. Unlike Hogun's earlier attempts at keeping his son back, it required little-to-no effort from the strong elephatian boy. Hogun felt the sharp tug of his tunic yank him back. Before Hogun could ask what he was doing, Truxis' large finger pointed at the silohoutte, who turned out to be Took Buckridge, one of the farmhands. He was clearly disoriented from the smoke clouds. "Took! You're swinging the wrong way! Behind you!" Truxis screamed.

As if on cue, an orc appeared from the mist. Before Took could process the situation, a rusty cleaver burst out from his chest, mangling his innards in a violent crimson. Truxis flinched for the first time since the chaos started. Hogun simply stared at the fantastical spray of blood that painted the bridge. The orc raised his human kebab and booted it clear of his blade. 

"Come, little lambs! Come, feed me!" The orc's putrid tongue slithered out to lick the fresh blood on his blade. Of all the words that could move a man, the utterance of the word [i]lamb[/i] stirred something fierce in Hogun. 

"NO! NO LAMBS!" Hogun's eyes widened until his eyelids draped back into his skull, revealing two maniacal orbs. "There will be no slaughtering of sacred lambs!" He let out a guttural scream as he darted toward the now confused Orc. Charging toward a beast who was much stronger, armed with a much more efficient weapon, was suicide. Luckily, it served as a distraction for ambushing farmhands. From all directions, they stabbed the orc relentlessly with pitchforks, rakes and knives. By the time Hogun was within striking range, his bare feet tripped over Took Buckridge's decapitated body. He stumbled onto the ground, diving face first into chunks of sloshing innards. Truxis charged onward, assisting the farmhands by wrestling the blade from the Orc. He stabbed the green-skin with the knife he grabbed from Hogun. It was done in a panicked frenzy, with no precision or technique, guided only by the need to stop this monster from killing more people. The orc's struggle finally weakened, and after the elephatian youth wrenched the cleaver free, he picked the dying orc over his head and flung it over the bridge. 

"Father! Are you okay?" The elephatian pounced over to his father lying prone in someone's loose guts. "Father!?" 

Hogun's bloody face emerged from the repulsive clump of wet organ and smiled affectionately. "Did, did I get him?"