An Orc's Journey

8. Bloody Mages

For whatever reason the students didn't run in fear. They all just dropped what they were doing and charged up their spells. Simple magic, elemental or light, the boring stuff. But it could do some damage if well trained. There was too much to analyse. Ice, Glass, Fire, Rock, Steam.
"Steam? Seriously?" Dehaka pointed at the mage who was covered in steam. "What can you even do?"
The mage shrugged and produced more steam out of his robes.

Dits leapt over the steam mage and smacked him on the head with his stick. "Could you stop messing around?"
"What? He's useless anyway. What difference does it make?" Dehaka lunged and threw the fire mage at the ice mage, causing a plume of steam. "Where are we headed?"
"Up. These places use height to show importance."
"Alright. OI. MIRROR!" Dehaka withdrew his battle-axe and used it to block the beam. "Dits look! MIRROR AXE!"
"For fuck sake you dumb greenskin. Just kill him".
"Alright chill out"
Dehaka turned and threw a sword at the mirror mage, then used the mirror on his axe to reflect the rocks being shot at him. Smothering the mage. He then ran towards the tower as Dits broke the glass mages neck.
"Pretty simple huh?"
Dits sheathed his staff. "I guess we go up?"
"Ladies first?" Dehaka gestured for Dits to lead the way.

If pain could be visually represented in architecture. It would be this tower. The stairs continued to wind up as the two climbed up.
"I don't know about you. But fighting seems like a pretty good fucking idea right now." Dits spat saliva out of the tower. Followed by a 30 second wait. And a scream as it hit someone from down below.
"Wait. There's a door there."
Dits sprinted to the door. "I don't care what is in there. If I can sit down I'm chancing it."

Inside. Was a comfy waiting room. With a desk and a reception area. And a receptionist in mage clothes.
"You sure you'd like to fight?" Dehaka punched Dits.
"I didn't mean it literally". Dits walked towards the desk. "Perhaps he's friendly?"
The receptionist had a different robe to the student mages. More gold and flourish.
"Hi there. Me and my friend were looking to see if we could talk to the curator?" Dits smiled as best a St Bernard faced dog man could.
"He is very busy. Important man. Piss off" the large Russian man stood up and spoke in a deep accent.
"Look we really need to see him. Could you just let us in?" Dehaka put his hand on the desk.
"DO NOT TOUCH DESK" the man lifted his hand in some arcane manner. And both Dehaka and Dits were blasted away from the desk and deafened for a second.
"What the fuck was that?" Dits groaned and stood.
"Never experienced sound magic before have you?" Dehaka checked on Rodney. Still sleeping. "Oh thank Malakithe for that."
Dits tried to move but faceplanted onto the ground. "Yeah that'll happen. Try to pop your ears" Dehaka drew a ball of dark energy into his hand. His blood bulged around the energy and his arm started to shift. Dehaka looked for any signs of the dead in the room. And there under the desk was a fresh corpse.
"You poor bastard" Dehaka channelled the ball into a small rock. "You just doomed yourself."
Dehaka launched his projectile at the desk. It skirted under and hit the corpse. Life sprang back into the eyes of the deceased Wood Elf as it stood. It's eyes a different colour though. Pure white and black spirals.
"How is it alive!" The Russian man fell backwards and slid towards the wall, the corpse loomed over him.
"I don't think you know what that is do you?"
"Or what I am" Dehaka raised his fist and the corpse did the same. "Unlock the door".
"I refuse!" The receptionist curled up into a ball.
"Fine. Take his keys." Dehaka lowered his fist.
The corpse searched the man. Took his keys and unlocked the door.
"Fucking greenskin" a blast of sound shot last Dehaka.
"I was going to let you live. Now, not so much." He lifted up the unconscious Dits and walked to the door. Which the corpse opened. "Thank you. He's yours now. Do as you wish." The corpse turned his head to look at the receptionist.
"You can't let it kill me. Can you?"
"It can't until I click my fingers."
"Oh thank God for that."
"Goodbye."
Dehaka walked out into the next room and clicked his fingers.

If anyone would be included in a description of arrogant. It was the High Elf sat behind a large desk in the next room. He wore a large robe/suit and crown on his head.
Dehaka looked at him and spoke out like by accident "Well he looks like a prick".
Dits woke up to a high elf looking over him
"He'll be fine. It affects dogs worse because of their superior hearing."
"Didn't even think of it like that." Dehaka walked towards a painting of the Elf on top of a Ivory Tower. "How long has it been since you went home?"
"120 years. I've been teaching magic for 110."
"Are you aware of what's happening over there right now?"
"Let me guess. More politics and assassinations?"
"Your elders are dying. Reached their last steps then joined back with the tower. Being inscribed on its exterior and brightening it's light."
"Elves can't die Orc."
"That's what they all thought. Until it started happening. Then the panic started."
"Did the royals help?"
"They did what they could. But you can't cheat death."
"Says the necromancer. Arm's looking pretty good by the way ."
Dehaka hadn't noticed but his arm had sprouted a large bone spike out of his shoulder and a small spike poking out of each of his muscles.
"It'll be fine. I reserve it for the worst people. Or the biggest assholes."
"Is that a threat?"
"Take it how you'd like. We'd like to leave this place now. Could you give me a hand?"
The sound of screaming started up in the room behind. Followed by the snapping of bone and a shrill peak of the scream.

"You haven't given me much choice here."
"Exactly" Dehaka slapped Dits. "Get up. We're moving"
"motherfuc- alright."
The curator opened up a portal. "Where do you want to go?"
"North of the United Kingdom."
"Alright then. Now it should be good to go."
"Oh. Before I go." Dehaka punched the curator in the crotch, then the forehead.
"Teach your students not to be dickheads."
And with that Dehaka, Dits and Rodney went through the portal.

Everything Dehaka had heard about Scotland had said that it was a loud, warm place this time of year. With plenty of violence at night. And good drink.
Dehaka was not in Scotland. He could tell by the snow and the smell of sulfur. It was the middle of the day and no one was around him in the middle of a town. He walked towards a sign which read 'Welcome to Reykjavik'
"Motherfucker"