The [Orc] War Drum

This unadorned wooden drum has the mottled skin of an orc stretched across it. A tattoo is barely perceptible on the dried skin.

The tattoo on the drum skin is of an ancient design associated with the Broken Stone tribe of orcs. This tattoo was given only to chieftains of the tribe after they led the tribe to a great victory.

This drum matches the description of a legendary war drum used by the Broken Stone tribe of orcs during a storied battle against the wood elves of the No Sky Forest a thousand years ago. The legend tells that when the orcs’ war drum was damaged it was repaired using the flesh of the orc chieftain. The restored war drum led the orcs to a bloody victory over the superior wood elf force.

A thousand years ago, the Broken Stone tribe of orcs found itself at odds with the wood elves of No Sky Forest. The orcs and elves had tolerated each other’s existence for years – the elves in their woods and the orcs in their hills. That all changed when a series of mudslides destroyed the orcs’ villages and forced them down off the hills in search of game and shelter.

The elves would brook no trespass into the No Sky Forest and a bloody conflict ensued. The battles that were fought were mere skirmishes at first. Seeing they could do little to dislodge the canny elves, the orc chieftain, Sorn Whitescar, altered the tribes’ strategy.

The Broken Stone orcs began an aggressive plan of deforestation. They set fires. They cut down trees. All in an effort to rid the elves of their hiding places and the terrain they used to such great advantage. The orcs had created an enormous clearing near the forest’s edge and had used the wood to build fortifications. This new clearing of barren and blackened earth the orcs dubbed, simply, the Black Plain.

It was on the Black Plain that the orcs and elves had their final showdown. Bolstered by their woodland allies, the elves sought to put an end to the orc interlopers once and for all.

A drummer led the orcs’ charge, beating out a rhythm that kept the orc advance moving. As one drummer fell, bristling with wood elf arrows, another would take up the drum. The battle went poorly for the orcs. They were weary and dispirited. Sorn, the orc chieftain, had taken up the war drum himself, spurring his troops in a desperate push.

The tribes’ spirit was completely broken when wood elf arrows riddled both the chieftain and the drum, splitting the drum skin that controlled the battle’s tempo. The orcs fell back as day broke. They found shelter in their makeshift battlements. The elves continued to pepper the orcs with arrows, safely from the forest’s edge.

As the orc chieftain lay dying, surrounded by his concubines, he made one final prayer to He-Who-Watches and Grandfather White Hands. He swore he would not abandon his tribe and would lead them again against the elven line when night returned. With his last breath, he ordered his wives to cut the flesh from his back to skin the war drum. The wives did as they were told, they employed the dark magic of their gods to speed the process, and the war drum was restored.

When night fell, the orc army heard the low steady beat of their war drum calling them out from their hiding places amidst their crude fortifications. When the orcs rallied, they found the chieftain’s concubines beating out a rhythm on the restored drum. At once, they recognized the war trophy tattoo that had once adorned the back of their chieftain, now stretched across the repaired instrument. They felt that their chieftain was with them again, leading them forward with every resounding beat of the drum.

The orcs set to their bloody task with grim determination. Their slain chieftain and their gods were with them, leading them inexorably onward, as long as the drum sounded. The orc warriors felt as if their very heartbeats beat to the drum’s rhythm, and as long as the drum continued to sound, their hearts would never stop beating.

It seemed that the orcs were right. Whether it be divine favor or orc magic at work, as long as the drum sounded the orc charge did not relent. Hundreds of wood elf arrows pelted the three concubines who carried the drum, but they did not fall.

The battle raged through the night, with the orcs battling with unparalleled ferocity and the wood elves retreating into the wood as they fought on futilely. The orcs burned the wood and toppled trees as they went. Eventually, the elves had no choice but to retreat from the inevitable. The surviving elves abandoned their homes, and fled the No Sky Forest for good. The orcs stopped their advance as they looted the elf village and set it aflame.

When the war drum finally ceased its beating, the mortally-wounded orcs it was sustaining, fell. For the remaining warriors of the Broken Stone tribe, their victory was something to be savored. They had avenged their chieftain and the routed elves would spread the tale of the unstoppable orcs who now held dominion over the No Sky Forest.

The Broken Stone tribe flourished in the No Sky Forest for the next three hundred years, using the drum in their skirmishes against interloping humans and other humanoid tribes. A hundred years ago the tribe vanished. Human historians believe the tribe was decimated by a plague and was finished off by a particularly bad drought the following year. Whatever the case, the war drum has not been seen for at least a hundred years.