Chaos Stone

I'm a self-taught, unpublished speculative literature writer.

Oakar and his opponent were evenly matched, their weapons held together fast, metal scraping against metal, shooting sparks with the force they exerted on each other. Suddenly, Oakar took the pressure from his sword, letting his opponent pitch forward into one of his large arms, then grasped the soldier firmly, keeping their swords clenched. The ogre reared his head and opened his mouth, his fangs gleaming in the light menacingly. The soldier's eyes were wide with fright as he tried to wriggle away, but the ogre lunged at his neck in an instant, bared teeth piercing the throat, ripping into tender flesh with ease. Blood spat from the soldier's mouth in gouts, his body convulsing as Oakar ripped away his jugular. The ogre released his victim, spitting gore from his mouth as the body collapsed to the bloodied ground. He reared back and let out a shrieking howl, reverberating across the battlefield long and animalistic. It elicited howls from the other ogre warriors, returning his call like a pack of wolves.
Suddenly, the humans let loose their own war cries, at first in scattered bursts, but soon their chorus of morale resounded in the sky like a quake in the caverns of his home. Oakar feared that their noise may make the sky fall to the earth as well, but his chest swelled with pride for his fellow warriors, man and ogre, so he added his voice to the din. They would rival even the thunder that the wizard god's made, and make their enemies tremble before them. Together, they would win the day.