Wonderful 3.

The Great Western Ocean...

Two days after Dorc da Orc caught the sea snake and had his first non shit based meal since being taken prisoner, he has his next meal, this time it's a shark.
Not that the large ork calls them that, as he's always forgetting their names, instead he calls a shark the literal translation from the ork language, which is sharp teeth.
Dorkindle who was hungry not that long after consuming the banded sea snake he caught off the surface of the water, thought long and hard about getting his next meal.
And though the easiest thing to do to get something to eat, is to someway escape from his prison and get onboard the twin masted sailing ship that's towing the small boat he's being held captive in, where he knows an abundance of food is.
The next best thing he could think of was to catch something like how he caught the sea snake, though preferably something larger and more substantial than the banded sea snake he caught.
It wasn't until yesterday afternoon as his prison passed over some fairly shallow water compared to what the small boat has been going over recently, and he could see coral reefs below, with an abundance of sea like in and around them, sea life that included sharks, or sharp teeth as he refers to them.
That catching a shark is what he should do, though going about how to actually catching one took quite a bit of thinking on his part, and thinking out things, coherently too, isn't exactly a strong point for an ork.
So Dorc da Orc went about it as if he was going into battle, as that's something he can understand, and understand well. Infact he's a natural born genius when it comes to battles, not that he knows that. So in between falling asleep in the hot sun of the late afternoon, and eventually coming up with a battle plan in the middle of the night, the ork warleader went about catching a shark for a meal.
One of the voices in his head, which one he can't remember, had to shout out over all the others, including the particular loud one, that's Dorkindle's 'mother'. Informed him that sharp teeth are attracted to blood, the ork weaponsmith grunted at that piece of information as it seemed to ring true to him.
With that piece of knowledge he went about catching himself a shark, and since he needed a source of blood, he used what was at hand, so to speak. The large ork bit his right hand until he bleed, and in small boot that is his prison, Dorc da Orc in the clear moonlit night, held his bleeding hand out over the water.
At first the warleader of the ork race thought he was in luck, because it wasn't too long before a number of sharks turned up around his floating prison, Dorkindle grinning at the prospect of another meal, waited until one of them got close so he could catch it.
One by one the sharks, ranging in size from of a couple of feet in length, to some a dozen feet and longer, came in close to the slowly moving boat alright, but they would all dart away as they have an acute sense of smell that caught the scent of the large ork sitting in the small boat.
Thus began a frustrating night for the warleader of the ork race, as one after the other, sharp teeth would come in close to investigate then dart away when they could both smell and see what was in the slow moving boat.
Dorc da Orc would also get annoyed that he would have to keep biting his hand every so often, as the quick healing ability that comes naturally to ork kind would close the bite marks where he was bleeding, the ork warleader would often sigh and swear at himself for healing so quickly before he would bite his hand again.
The weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks fell asleep after a frustrating night of trying to catch a shark that would come in close to his floating prison as it's towed behind a twin masted cutter that's continuing northwards across the Great Western Ocean.
Dorkindle wakes in the morning to another clear day with the sun beating down upon him, the large ork who is lying in the bottom of the boat, scowls as he sits up against the stern and looks at the surrounding water aftet he glares at the ship infront of him, that his captors are on.
The warleader of the ork race looks at his hand, then at the water to starboard of his floating prison, the large ork looks between the two a few times, then using another analogy for battle, he sets a trap for his current enemy, the sharp teeth.
Dorkindle bites his right hand hard, then as blood starts freely flowing, he holds it overboard, then as he did when he caught the sea snake, he plucks up an awful lot of courage for an ork, and with a look of disgust mixed with anger upon his broad, green, brutish looking face, he plunges his bleeding hand into the water.
It's not long before he gets a bite so to speak, for just a few moments after putting his hand down into the warm water, and swishing his bleeding hand back and forth, a shark bites him, and clamps down onto his hand and arm.
"Cunt" growls Dorc da Orc, who continues with "That fucken hurts" as he holds onto the port side gunnel with his left hand, and he brings his right arm up and out of the water, with a grunt of exertion as he hauls up a nearly ten foot long shark, that must weigh at least three hundred and fifty pounds, that's got it's teeth firmly imbedded into the large ork's arm.
Dorkindle after hauling the shark out of the water, momentarily pauses as the small boat drops alarmingly down into the water with the added weight of the shark onboard, the ork weaponsmith will biff the shark back into the water if there's any chance of sinking, because there's no way he's going to end up in the ocean too.
The ork warleader mutters "Nasty sharp teeth" as the shark thrashes about and bites into his right arm over and over again, Dorc with his left hand, punches it in the nose, which causes the shark to open it's closed, rolled up eyes, but not give up on it's bite on the large orks arm.
So Dorkindle does something else instead "Cunt you bite me, so me bites you" mutters the weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks, who does exactly that, he bites the nearly ten foot long shark in the snout. The shark lets go of him then, considering half of it's snout has just been bitten off.
Then as he busily chewing on what he's already bitten off, Dorc da Orc grabs the remaining part of the snout of the shark with his left hand, and with his now free, and mauled, and heavily bleeding right hand, he grab the lower part of the sharks jaw, and pulls them apart as quickly and powerfully as he can.
With a chuckle the large ork says "Not so fucken tough now ya cunt" after he hears a loud crack from the shark that's now obviously dead, as it's jaws and head are pulled apart far more than they're naturally able to. Dorkindle plays with the distended jaws of the dead shark, opening and closing them repeatedly as he chortles and says "Bite bite bite, bitey bitey bite" followed by "Me is a silly fucken sharp teeth who ran into the baddest motherfucker of them all, Dorc da Orc" then he starts to eat the dead shark, ignoring the audience that's been watching him from the stern of the cutter that's towing his prison through the warm tropical waters of this part of the Great Western Ocean.
The large ork falls asleep in the heat of the day with a belly full of shark meat, the partially eaten shark lies beside him in the bottom of the boat as he drifts off to sleep. The ork who is the son of the former matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks, wakes up late in the day to snack upon the carcass of the shark, Dorkindle surprisingly doesn't gorge himself on the shark he's caught, it was a pain to catch the thing in the first place, his mauled arm that's healing is proof of that, so he just snacks on it every so often as he doesn't particularly want to go through the hassle of catching another one anytime soon.
Dorc da Orc is awake during most of the night, it's still warm, but infinitely cooler than it is during the day time, which he finds extremely difficult to deal with the heat of the day. The ork warleader spends most of his time at night, looking at the stars in the sky, at the patterns that to him and all ork kind, shows their god Krom doing everything and anything, usually it's their deity killing another god or goddess in various ways. Or the star patterns has the ork war god, drinking, eating and whoring, his favourite pastimes, when he's not in battle killing the other deities of the world of Volunell. Well that's his favourite pastimes of their god in their minds, so that's all that matters to them.
Dorc da Orc falls asleep with a belly full of shark meat again just before dawn, as he thinks of himself drinking and eating with his god Krom after they've gone into war against a number of the other gods, the large ork falls asleep with a wide grin upon his broad, green brutish looking face.
The ork warleader wakes himself up with a snort, Dorkindle frowns as he's pretty certain that he hears shouting and yelling, the ork weaponsmith scowls up at the sun in the clear mid morning sky above, then he moves the half eaten shark to one side, and pops his head up and looks ahead.
Dorc da Orc frowns as his prison is slowly drifting to one side, and then he blinks in surprise, as he sees the twin masted sailing ship has stopped, and is listing to one side, it takes a moment for him to realise it, but the cutter has run aground. The large ork looks all around and sees nothing but ocean, he looks at the ship infront of his prison, and sees that it's on a small spit of sand, that's part of a mid ocean reef, the cutter must of beached upon it unaware that the there's a small local tide here.
Dorc da Orc suddenly goes still, as all of a sudden the voices in his head, all of them, including the loud domineering one of his 'mother' who were all chatting away in an excited manner, instantly fall silent.
Then as he hears the crew of the cutter shouting and yelling, the large ork hears a voice in his head that he hasn't heard in quite some time, infact it's been nearly eight years since he last heard it, it's a voice he'll never ever forget. The ork warleader grimaces at what he hears, then Dorc da Orc mutters "Fucken hell" followed by "Krom help me" he winces as the voice in his head gives him a sharp, not to mention quite sweary rebuke for what he just said there . . . . . .