Ali-Ramses Prologue

In southern Lothûr the blazing sands sprawl barren. Hostile to any life within it,
only the hardiest of creatures can hope to survive, much less thrive. Yet the stoic
race, the resilient Orcs have made it their home. But it comes at a cost. The
extreme conditions of their environment lead to extreme measures to survive.
Stealing, pillaging and other savagery is required to sustain the tribe due to the
severe lack of resources available in the desert. A successful tribe can flourish
for a while, but there is a breaking point.
Eventually the tribe will grow too large to sustain itself, it’s a simple matter of
there being too many mouths to feed and not enough food to go around. So
when the tribe reaches that breaking point there is an inevitable split, “ugrukh
karash” as it’s called. Strong members of the tribe cast out weak and the
undesirable to fend for themselves. On rare occasion ugrukh karash can happen
on amicable terms, but more often it’s a very ugly business.
This is where the story of Ali-Ramses begins, before he was born. His father had
passed away in the tribe’s last unsuccessful raid. A few others like him had
fallen, seasoned raiders and backbone of the tribe’s supply chain. Fewer
warriors meant less food, which led to ugrukh karash. Ali-Ramses’ mother who
still were pregnant with him was left to fend for herself. She was called Thorn-
tongue, for she was prickly and mean woman who spoke hurtful and nasty
words. Being unlikable and a liability with no one to side with her, she was
guaranteed to be cast out. She and a dozen or so others were exiled from the
tribe and sent into the desert to survive on their own.
One of the other unfortunates was called Bothrog-Kesk, a skilled fighter, despite
his young age, who had been part of the failed raid. During the outing he had
made some stupid mistakes that may or may not had led to their defeat, which
led to his sudden expulsion. He had always been against the tradition of ugrukh
karash, for he believed that everyone had something to give. This hardened his
once empathetic heart. Seething and boiling with rage he swore to lead the exiles
and make sure no one would starve, making him their new chieftain, chieftain
over the “Blood Sun Tribe.”
Bothrog-Kesk would make good on this promise. His anger and determination to
do whatever necessary kept the group alive, and so a new tribe grew. Ali-
Ramses was born into this tough life. Already from infancy would he experience
hunger and thirst. But the desert taught him to persevere. From the day he was
old enough to hold a weapon Bothrog-Kesk taught him to be a warrior. And so,
Ali-Ramses grew up to be a hardened fighter, a soldier would do anything to
keep his tribe alive.

Ali-Ramses Rise to Notoriety

Ali-Ramses talent for combat were obvious from the day he began his training
as a young runt. A talent he shared with his late father. Being the first child in a
new tribe meant there were no distractions. Ali-Ramses would have no other
children to play with and Bothrog-Kesk had no other children to teach, thus
almost all his time were spent with his mentor practicing for the day he too
would help sustaining the tribe. It was inevitable such that Bothrog-Kesk
became Ali-Ramses father figure and role model. This led to Ali-Ramses not
only being taught fighting from the exceptional warrior that Bothrog-Kesk were,
but also his mentor’s philosophy and opinions on the world.
Bothrog-Kesk was an orc filled with rage, hate and vitriol. Not only for the other
races of Lothûr, but also for other orcs and their culture. Ever since he was
unfairly, at least according to him, exiled through ugrukh karash he condemned
all orc traditions. He was a man who believed the world conspired against him at
every turn, and that everyone who was not with him was against him. He
considered himself the only one fit to rule and that the world could rather crash
and burn should it not bend to his will. There was no method too extreme, no
risk too great and no length he wouldn’t go to see the results he wanted. All this
make it seem like Bothrog-Kesk was a raging psychopath, which he was, but he
wasn’t only brute. He could also be subtle and calculating, playing the long
game when it suited him, or a vicious storm of anger and violence when
demanded of him.
With his innate ability and training for combat, the influence from his mentor
and the callous personality from his mother, Ali-Ramses became a ruthless
warrior who fought with deadly efficiency. It would not take long before he
distinguished himself from his raid partners, excelling them on every level. Ali-
Ramses upbringing and relation to his tribe’s chieftain inspired an undying
loyalty to the Blood Sun Tribe into him. He wouldn’t hesitate any order from his
mentor, no matter the risk or consequence. This accelerated Ali-Ramses position
in the tribe to become Bothrog-Kesk’s right-hand man, like a son he never had.
With his high standing in the tribe and his achievements in battle Ali-Ramses
was dubbed “The Spear of the South.” A notorious name that would strike fear
into his enemies and command respects form his peers.
It would seem that Ali-Ramses’ course in life were set, that he would be an
instrument of destruction that would lead his clan on the path of greatness. But
something changed within the young fighter that would challenge everything.

Ali-Ramses Rise to Notoriety

Back during the conception of the Blood Sun Tribe their options of survival
were limited. Being a small, newly formed tribe, their number of ample warriors
were miniscule. All the good land for is already claimed by other tribes with
more and stronger fighters, so hunting and foraging is mostly out of the
question. This only leaves the option of stealing and plundering. Given the
already scarce resources at their disposal the tribe decided upon low-risk outings
until they could get back on their feet. Under the veil of moonlight, they set out
to lesser tribes and villages, stealing only what they needed before falling back.
It was a good start, but Bothrog-Kesk’s scope quickly grew.
Rumours began spreading among other orcs that a new upstart tribe was on the
rise. This caused other outcasts who had been surviving on their own or
undesirables that had been exiled to seek themselves to the Blood Sun Tribe.
Bothrog-Kesk welcomed them with open arms, he wanted the tribe to grow
quickly even if the ones joining were the scum of other tribes. He would show to
have quite the knack for, mostly figuratively, whipping lazy and weak orcs into
shape and finding work for the crippled and indisposed.
With more men at hand and more stomachs to feed the tribe had to increase their
supply. The stealthy approach was replaced with smash and grab lootings and
the size of their targets increased. Their victories continued to mount, and more
orcs decided to try their luck with this promising new tribe. This cycle would
repeat with every successful raid, snowballing the Blood Sun Tribe from an
abysmal upstart tribe to a worthy competitor that could challenge the larger,
long since established orc clans.
They began contesting other tribes for the better parts in the desert,
indiscriminately slaying other of their kin. But not before giving them a chance
to switch sides, an offer the less than loyal orcs would happily accept, thus
further increasing their ranks. Their choice of settlements to raid became bolder
as well. Pillaging was no longer good enough and instead turn to head on
assault, bordering on invasion. Larger towns were occupied until they were
stripped clean, any dissidents slaughtered or worse. The sheer brutality of these
raids was horrifying. Influenced by their chieftain’s hatred for all his enemies
his warriors engaged in blood sport, torture and molestation.
The Blood Sun Tribe rose to infamy as one of the most brutal clans of it’s time,
led by the savvy and merciless Bothrog-Kesk and his feared lieutenant, the
ruthless Spear of the South who could fight twenty to one and come out
unscathed. Their reputation had them growing faster than ever, and this is where
trouble began.

Ali-Ramses Cursed with Conscience

It wasn’t until Ali-Ramses were old enough to join the other raiders that things
began picking up speed. His technical skill and discipline were more than
enough to outweigh any lack of real combat experience, outshining most of his
raid partners in every way that mattered. Due to his remarkable skill the tribe
could punch way above their weight-class, making great risk taking feasible.
The odds didn’t seem to matter as long as the Spear of the South were on their
side.
At the tribes earliest, small-scale outings, Ali-Ramses took great pleasure in
work he did. He felt a great sense of accomplishment in helping his fellow
tribesmen and women survive even if the work he did was dirty. These orcs,
rejects and unfortunates, were easy to empathize with. He was fighting for the
underdog, taking from the strong giving to the weak. But as tribe’s methods
began to change and their ranks were filled with more and more unscrupulous
and detestable characters, another feeling began taking hold in the back of Ali-
Ramses mind. It was a gnawing guilt that would not go away.
He would indulge in gratuitous violence and blood sport during his raids, but
once it was over the guilt and regret would slowly consume him. His mentor’s
teachings would clash with his own conscience, causing great Ali-Ramses great
confusion and turmoil. But no reasoning or rationale would make these feelings
go away. Ali-Ramses grew distant and sombre, secluding himself from his
tribesmen. When meeting with Bothrog-Kesk and the other raid lieutenants Ali-
Ramses would suggest that they should hold back on cruelty and lay low,
returning to their smaller, more “ethical” operations. This only branded him a
coward and sent signals that he might not be loyal to the tribe.
Even in a scenario where other had agreed with him, that was simply not
feasible. The clan was growing so rapidly that any decrease in flow of supplies
would sweep their legs from under them. Bothrog-Kesk knew this and had no
interest in stopping now. This defiance shook the chieftain greatly. Ali-Ramses
was the one orc he trusted the most, his right-most hand and figurative son.
Losing his loyalty would not only cripple their raiding capabilities, but it could
also split the tribe seeing as many expected Ali-Ramses to shoulder the role as
chieftain once Bothrog-Kesk would retire. And so, he devised a plan that would
force Ali-Ramses to show his true colours.

Ali-Ramses His Greatest Shame

It had been a raid like most others. Ali-Ramses were kneeling in the town-square
surrounded by the many corpses of his enemies. The cries of women and
children could be heard over the rambunctious laughter of his fellow orcs, the
screams of men and combat had faded. Somewhat absent minded he wiped the
blood of his spear on whatever clean cloth he could find. He was thinking about
how things had been increasingly tiresome lately. These plunders provided no
challenge for the battle-hardened warrior that he was. These men he fought were
nothing more than simple folks armed with whatever tools they could find; the
soldiers they had mustered were all inexperienced.
The first body had barely hit the ground before his raid-partners had run off,
stuffing themselves with the best meats, pleasuring themselves with the finest
women. Their priorities disgusted him. At least there was one reliable soul
accompanying him on this mission, his mentor and chieftain Bothrog-Kesk. Ali-
Ramses could hardly remember the last time he’d join a raid. These days he was
busy with logistics and internal affairs within the tribe, doing grunt work like
this should be beneath him. The relationship between them had been quite sour
lately. Their differencing opinions on whatever you would call orc-politics had
them growing apart. Perhaps he was here to rekindle the bond between them, or
was he afraid that Ali-Ramses was neglecting his duties?
In any case it was a nice change of pace to have Bothrog-Kesk following along,
for he was the only one who could keep up with the infamous Spear of the
South. Ali-Ramses was just about to help hauling the loot when he heard his
mentor calling his name. The unmistakable gruff, yet strong voice came from
the outskirt of the town. Wasting no time Ali-Ramses followed his chieftain’s
command. At the very edge of the town did he find Bothrog-Kesk leaning
against the wall of a smaller house, or perhaps the house just looked small in
comparison to the seven-foot muscle giant who stood next to it. Much like Ali-
Ramses, you could hardly tell that the chieftain had just been in a battle, looking
completely unscathed. The only thing giving him away was the blood caked
around his mouth, he was known for biting the throat off his enemies in battle,
something that even intimidated Ali-Ramses.
“Took you long enough, son.” Bothrog-Kesk paused for a moment, eyeing Ali-
Ramses up and down. “It’s been too long since I last saw you fight; I had almost
forgotten how skilled you are with that spear of yours.” He smiled proudly and
gave the younger orc a strong pat on the shoulder. “These gubuk scum should’ve
learned to respect us by now.”
 Ali-Ramses His Greatest Shame
Warning! Reader discretion is advised! The following
paragraphs describes rape in graphic nature! Warning!

“Why did you call me here?” Ali-Ramses asked impatiently, not interested in
one of his mentor’s speeches about the lesser races.
“There is something in here I’d like you to see.” He nodded toward the door of
the house, waiting for Ali-Ramses to enter before following him. A loud
whimper could be heard as they stepped inside, just before Ali-Ramses locked
eyes with a human woman held captive by one of the orc lieutenants who’d been
part of the raid. Ahrgresk, as he was called, had one arm wrapped strongly
around the woman’s stomach and one hand pulling her long, raven hair.
“Ali-Ramses, my boy.” Bothrog-Kesk put an arm around Ali-Ramses’ neck.
“You have always been loyal to me, to our tribe. The work you put in for us is
irreplaceable.” He leaned forward a bit to meet eyes with a visibly nervous Ali-
Ramses. “Which is why I’ve been so upset with you lately. Your demurs and
complaining made me think you were going to betray your loyalty to me.” The
sound of many footsteps could be heard behind them, but he couldn’t turn
around to see the other lieutenants encircling them. “But then I came to a
realization. The problem wasn’t you; it was me. As your chieftain it pains me to
admit that I’ve failed to reward your service properly. It’s no wonder your faith
in me buckles when you do so much for us and get so little in return.”
Bothrog-Kesk finally let’s go and walk over to the captive, giving Ali-Ramses a
chance to turn around and to see that he’s surrounded. The other lieutenants had
formed up tightly around them in order to block any exit.
“You already know my opinions on humans. They’re prideful and weak, bathing
in treasures they never earned or deserved. Sometimes however, they pack some
good meat.” As he stressed his last word he forcefully grabbed the woman’s
rear, making her cry out in pain. The lieutenants laughed cruelly. “A rare flower
in the desert this one, caught her myself.” Ali-Ramses were forced agree with
his mentor’s words, she was undeniably beautiful. A petite and tender face with
deep brown eyes you could get lost in. Her body were modestly stacked in all
the right places, her arms and legs strong, but not masculine.
“She’s my gift to you, my boy. You can have her until you’re satisfied, ravage
her to your heart’s content.” Ali-Ramses was stunned, shook with disbelief. He
couldn’t understand why he was subjected to this. He had told his mentor
repeatedly that he disapproved the molestations that went on during the raids. To
be forced to rape someone like this in front of the tribe’s top brass, it was
humiliation, punishment for dissidence.

Ali-Ramses His Greatest Shame

Ali-Ramses weighed his options. What if he refused? He’d probably be executed

on the spot and the girl would just be raped by someone else instead. Not an
option. Escape? No good, all exits are covered, Bothrog-Kesk was smart enough
to make sure of that. Fight his way out? Taking down the other lieutenants
wouldn’t be particularly difficult, but defeating his mentor on top of that? It
occurred to him that he never had entertained the thought of who would win
between the two but given the current circumstances the odds were clearly
against him. Even if he did pull it off and killed his chieftain and his
subordinates the clan would perish without their support, starving hundreds of
innocent orcs. Not an option. Rape this innocent woman? At least he would
survive, but could he live the rest of his life with this soul-crushing guilt?
Perhaps the girl can make it out if he complies? Better traumatized than dead.
“What are you standing around for Ramses? Is there something wrong with my
gift?” Bothrog-Kesk urged him on while his lieutenants jeered at him. “Or is
there some other problem?” His mentor’s threatening undertone indicated that it
was time to choose. It was with a big knot in his stomach that Ali-Ramses
submitted, knowing which option was clearly better. With a heavy heart he
turned around to the woman and began unbuckling his armour. Even though
they had spoken orcish this whole time, Ali-Ramses had no doubt she knew
what was going on, but as he began undressing it must’ve dawned on her how
real this situation was about to get. She thrashed with every limb she had as
Ahrgresk tore her clothes off, revealing her pristine features.
Ali-Ramses felt disgust as he looked at the expression of terror on the woman’s
face. Not so much from what he was about to do, but because what he was about
to do excited him. At least he would not have to worry about getting hard, he
was throbbing plenty. Grabbing the woman by the throat, taking her from
Ahrgresk, he forced her on her back on the floor. With his free hand he grabbed
both her hands by the wrist and got close, face to face. He locked eyes with the
woman, felt her ragged breath on his, his tusk grazing her tears.
“I’m sorry.” Ali-Ramses whispered in common before pulling away. He moved
his hand from her throat and grabbed her waist steadily before forcing himself
inside. She screamed and kicked in pain as the orc’s full length stretched her.
Wasting no time Ali-Ramses thrusted violently as her minge tried to reject his
assault. Blood dripped on the floor with every stroke from the warrior’s rough
treatment.

Ali-Ramses His Greatest Shame

The orcs behind him both cheered and mocked him as they watched, but Ali-
Ramses didn’t hear them, nor did he care. He had only a single focus, like a
machine with a one-track mind he kept pumping for what felt like forever. In
reality it had barely gone five minutes before he finished inside with mighty
roar. He slumped over his victim, sweat dripping down on her face as his chest
heaved.
“That was quite a show there Ramses! I haven’t seen someone fuck with such
determination before.” Bothrog-Kesk chuckled as his lieutenants laughed. “Now
if you would mind moving over…”
“No.” Ali-Ramses turned his head and locked eyes angrily with his mentor, like
a predator who wasn’t done with his prey.
“What do you mean no?”
“You told me I could have her until I was done. I am not done.” Ali-Ramses
almost growled.
“Really?” Bothrog-Kesk looked at the warrior with surprise, not expecting this
outcome. “Very well then, but make sure finish up before sunrise. We’re not
sticking around waiting for you to destroy your new toy.” With those words
everyone left the house jeering and laughing, leaving only Ali-Ramses and the
woman. He listened as their footsteps faded. When he couldn’t hear them
anymore he quickly got up on his feet and checked outside the door to confirm
that the coast was indeed clear. He then hurried back inside and lifted the
woman back on her feet.
“Can you stand?” He tried to ask her in common. Confused and shaken she
leaned against a wall with trembling legs. Her voice had been depleted from all
the screaming so she couldn’t muster an answer.
Picking up whatever scraps left her clothes he handed them to her. He then
spoke to her in whatever broken common he could muster.
“Run toward the moon and don’t stop. There should be another settlement in
that direction about a day from here. Go fast, and don’t look back.” It was
unclear if she understood what he had said or if she just saw an opportunity to
flee and took it, but she headed out into the night, undressed and crying. Ali-
Ramses put his armour back on before ran out into the night as well in a
different direction. There was no way he could face his clansmen again after that
experience, there was no way he could face himself.

Warning! Reader discretion is advised! The previous

paragraphs describe rape in graphic nature! Warning!
Ali-Ramses Life in Exile

Ali-Ramses kept running for many days, aimlessly staggering in the desert. He
didn’t have a destination in mind, his only concern was getting as far away as
possible from his tribe. It wasn’t until he reached the prairie he finally stopped,
happening upon a lonesome hut. Luckily no one was inside when Ali-Ramses
barged in, helping himself to whatever food and water he could find before
passing out on the hay bed from exhaustion.
The next day he woke up as someone opened the door to the hut. An old human
man stood there, mouth agape in terror to find an orc squatting in his home. For
a split second they looked at each other in pure chock before the man fled for his
life. It wasn’t hard for the orc to catch up. He grabbed the man by his shirt and
pulled him close, ready to rip him to shreds. But just before he killed the poor
man a strange thought passed through the orc’s mind. There was no one forcing
him to kill this man, he had no obligation to do anything. He was free and could
make any decision he wanted.
Much to the man’s surprise he wasn’t dead yet. They simply stood there for
many minutes while Ali-Ramses thought of what to do next. He looked around,
only now noticing all the sheep that surrounded them.
“What are these.” Ali-Ramses tried to ask the scared man.
“Th-They are sheep, my sheep, I’m a shepherd. Please let me go! I won’t tell
anyone you’re here just don’t kill me okay!?” The man pleaded for his life. The
orc stroke his chin, deep in thought. He then pulled the squirming man back into
the hut and threw him in a corner while he thought some more. Finally, after
many excruciating minutes Ali-Ramses spoke in his limited common.
“You will teach how to take care of sheep. If you teach me how to take care of
sheep, I won’t kill you.” The old shepherd wasn’t sure what to make of this
bizarre situation. But seeing as his life was on the line he would be a fool to
refuse the orc’s demand.
“O-okay, okay. I will teach you how to take care of sheep, just promise not to
eat me!”
“I will not eat you.”
“O-okay… that’s good…”
Making good on his promise, the man taught Ali-Ramses all about animal-
husbandry and the life a shepherd. And in return, Ali-Ramses didn’t kill the
man. The mood was always somewhat tense between them, but never hostile.
The old man was somewhat of a hermit, living alone some ways away from
nearest village. He had no family and no one he could call friend. The only time
he used to interact with someone was when he travelled to the village to sell his
wool for whatever he needed.

Ali-Ramses Life in Exile

It was quite a chock to the people of the village when the old shepherd showed
up with an orc. But they seemed content with just avoiding him.
During the next few years a vary bond would form between them. They would
barely talk with each other but enjoyed their company together in silence. Then
one day the old shepherd passed away to natural causes. And though they never
learned each other’s names and though he never would have admitted it, Ali-
Ramses was the closest thing to a friend the hermit ever had.
After the old man had passed Ali-Ramses took over alone as a shepherd, living
out his days in solitude. At times he would study the people of the village from a
distance, and sometimes he sold his wool to them. But their interactions were
always short and plain. The people of the village never learned whether the old
shepherd had died on his own or if Ali-Ramses killed him, and no one dared to
ask. During his twenty-five years alone at the prairie’s outskirts he stewed in
self-loathing and regret. He thought about what happened after he left. What did
Bothrog-Kesk think? Was his mother okay? What happened to the poor girl he
violated; did she make it? Did she realize he never wanted to hurt and that he
only tried to save her life?
He often thought back to that day, though about how he felt raping her. He had
never felt so powerful in his life. The way he dominated that poor woman gave
him a rush he’d never could’ve imagined. He hated that fact to no end, that no
matter how much he regret hurting her, he also enjoyed it. He thought about
what he could’ve done differently, how he should’ve stopped the tribe from
going down the path they went a lot earlier. He loathed how blinded he was by
his mentor as his rhetoric. He often dreamed about sticking his spear through
Bothrog-Kesk’s throat, he dreamed of butchering each and everyone in that
room in every conceivable way.
Then one day a very nasty sandstorm hit the area. None of his poor sheep
survived it, and so Ali-Ramses were left without a livelihood. Seeing no other
option he picked up his old gear and his old spear and travelled to closest city.
He’d heard that there was always a need for mercenaries. He could’ve never
imagined who his employer would turn out to be and what kind work he was
about to set out on. But that’s a story for another time…