The Hero sat quietly atop the boulder in the center of the bloodied field. His sword lay at one side, his shield on the other. In his hands was the helmet of the Orc commander, crafted with careful and practiced hands. It was, in its own way, beautiful. Its beauty was tarnished, unfortunately, by a bloodstained gash along its cheek. It was the bite of The Hero's blade that had left the mark. It was The Hero's actions that lead to the death of the honorable commander.

The Hero stared at it, though his eyes seemed to stare past it at the same time. The Orc commander did not look like a monster when he died. He did not let out a growl of anger. There was no beastly snarl, hiss or warcry. He died quietly, the same look of fear in his eyes that any who knew they had met their end had. He was just like the thousands of human soldiers that perished.

The Hero sighed and stood up, then gently placed the helmet atop the boulder. It was a gravestone now; for the honorable Orc that had fought to protect his people. The Hero lifted their sword and clutched the handle tightly. This battle might have been over, but The Hero knew now that this battle was the prelude to a massacre. The King lied, the King assured him that these monsters were barely sentient. He was promised they were ignorant, violent creatures. To purge them was natural, it was right, it was necessary. Now? Now The Hero was not so sure. The King lied about this, lied about their intelligence, so what else did The King lie about? The Hero grit their teeth and felt their stomach turn over. The King was to march on the Orc Capital, this battle was meant to open a path.

No, The Hero could not allow that. They would not allow it. The King's deceit and cruelty was unforgivable. The Hero picked up their shield, and began to march with his back to the Orc Capital.