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By Jeff Hartke

The War of the Gem has ended in victory for Free Lands. If the words of some prophets are true, this precedes the great Golden Age of Man, a time of healing, growth and the flowering of human culture. Now begins an Age of prosperity and harmony between all the races that inhabit Therra.

Few would welcome this more than a raw-boned frontier boy named Pike. Though just reaching what most would call maturity, he has already witnessed more warfare than many a trained man-at-arms. The borderlands have always been a place of raid and counter-raid, where Men struggle with Orcs for control of the fertile plainlands - that is when Men and Orcs aren't feuding with their own kind.

Yet even amidst this savage tableaux, Pike's story is unique. It took its first turn when he was a boy and his hamlet was raided by orc marauders. They slew the few fighters the homesteads had, and made sport with the survivors. Pike screamed with all the other children as they watched their mothers, fathers, sisters and brothers die one by one after unspeakable tortures. But Pike was spared. An orcish woman who had recently lost her children decided to claim him, and so he was adopted into the Crippled Claw Clan.

Those who know orcs well will not be shocked by this. Orcs have no color-bar, and respect in the clan is based only on service to the clan. Strength and fighting skill guarantees leadership, but the clan willingly supports those with skills in fishing, trades such as leatherworking and weaving, or those who hold wisdom. When Pike snuck out of the camp and disappeared for a day, his fate was sealed - because he returned with a bag full of hares and squirrels for the pot. Pike's skill as a hunter earned him a worthy, if not leading place in the clan.

So Pike grew to maturity. He had much to be thankful of. He had the wide plains and deep forests of the borderlands to explore, the rough good comradeship of his fellows, and the love of his "mother." But something nagged at him, something that made him feel restless and unfulfilled, and drove him into dangerous acts.

On moonless nights he would sortie out, moving silently and swiftly toward his goal - an outlying human village. Using all his wiles, he would move past the wary dogs and guards of the settlement and sleep in the deep brush, waiting for sunrise to bring the movement of humans. Fascinated, he watched the spectacle of men digging holes, or wielding hoes in the fields. He stared at the children rolling hoops about the dusty yards. But what most delighted him was the sight of women going about their daily chores, laughing and bickering, their children circling them like flies on a summer day.

One evening, while sneaking up on the village, his ankle was grabbed and he was pulled down into the long grass, a knife to his throat. His terror passed when he saw it was Ugrak Ribsplitter - a raid leader of the clan, with a dozen or so warriors. Assuming that Pike was there for the same reason that they were, Ugrak ordered him to shoot a pair of sentries that he had spotted. Pike had often watched these men, and knew their habits. He knew that they chewed on something, and when they turned to spit they were most vulnerable. Slithering through the long grass, he took his post, waited, fired, and watched in mingled horror and fascination as the two sentries gurgled out their lives in the dust.

With that Ugrak led his orcs into the settlement. Surprise was total; the raid a complete success. Giddy with triumph, the raiders brought back slaves, meat and valuables. Pike proudly gave his mother some copper trinkets and a new iron pan.

Three days later, retribution came armored in iron, mounted on tall horses. Disdaining surprise and riding straight into the camp, the knights rode roughshod over the clan, everywhere slaying. Orc warriors would strike only to watch their clubs bounce off metal, and then be felled by the terrible riposte. Mounted archers who had surrounded the camp picked off those attempting to flee. Pike, far afield hunting for springboks, saw the smoke rise from the encampment as the knights sought to drive out those hiding in the lodges.

Hurrying towards the camp, Pike managed to elude the screen of archers and witnessed - for the second time - the destruction of his home and loved ones at the hands of raiders. He watched hopelessly as the orcish females, including the one he called mother, were driven into a slave pen and then manacled. Intent on the sight, he would have been easy prey to the man sneaking on his back if the snap of a branch hadn't warned him. Whirling and slashing wildly, he laid open the man's cheek and fled blindly into the brush.

What to do? Where to go? Pike was uncertain, but he knew that he must leave. He wandered to the east until he came upon a grove of linden trees. Realizing that his was a soul badly out of balance, the druids who watched over the grove took him in. They helped him remember the common tongue, taught him to put aside most of his orcish habits, and showed him the Way of Balance. Hating and loving humans and orcs alike, Pike was deeply conflicted, but the druids persisted. He might have stayed there and lived his life in service to the grove, finally at peace, if not for the visit of a wandering cleric - a man with a scar from jaw to ear.

Forced to flee once again, Pike was close to death when he was found and befriended by a merchant caravan master. He served the caravan as a scout, and the master decided to recommend his services as a scout to House Riverine.

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