“Why is the spear the weapon of the orcs?”
Virens has pried a straight, sturdy branch from a nearby tree, and is using a wickedly curved knife to strip away bark and create a sharp point. Wood shavings pile up at his feet.
“The spear is the most basic weapon. The pointy end is for the enemy. The rest is grip, and parrying surface. Simple.” Virens rotates the stick around to demonstrate a few key postures.
“Simple doesn’t mean identical.” The orc carves a few distinctive designs into the haft of the nascent spear, then reaches behind him with the knife and expertly cuts off a lock of his own hair. He wraps the hair around the spear, just back of the sharpened head, creating a black tassel. “Keeps blood from flowing down the shaft and making a slippery grip, distracts the opponent when shaken in their face, but also marks a spear as someone’s.”
The orc warrior holds the spear out for inspection. It’s a rough but functional weapon, visually distinctive, primitive and powerful. Satisfied, he stands, then abruptly breaks the spear across his knee. Wood splinters fall at his feet.
“Orcs die in battle. It is our nature. We are alive when we fight. We choose what we fight for. That is how we will be judged.”
“Things break. That is the harsh truth of this world. And its hope. Evil breaks too.” Virens sits down again, and calmly starts carving a new point onto one of the damaged ends. “And there will always be more spears.”
