The Tale of Galilei

The winds of a faraway land hummed a soft melody this morning. The fortress of ashes stood stalwart against the noon winds, rolling over green hills.

The fair orc guards drank mead, and enjoyed a fair meal of bread while enjoying a game of poker when there was a clopping at the door, then a knock.

“Aye, ‘ere’s a visitor. A quick return, lads.” A bulky orc says to the table.

The orc’s name was Gach. With jagged teeth and a hefty battle axe, he stood outside to see a horse looking off into the hills nearby the walls. Gach stroked his beard a moment, and decided that perhaps this horse was simply misguided. He closed the door behind him, only to hear the fervent thumping of a knock once more.

Gach swung open the door in a rage, only to eat the backside of a horse’s muscly ass to the face. He banged his head against the bricks, and the horse carefully walked into the walls of the fortress.

The scandalous stallion quickly found himself within the stable of horses. Blending in amongst his fellow horse folk. An exchange of clattering teeth to the younger foals of the stable. Galilei purses himself before speaking in eloquent Horse English, the standard of the land.

“Good horse people, my name is Galilei, a self given name, known as the one to inherit the stars! I have come to radicalize, and revolutionize my people, those without name, or class, or even gender!” Galilei proudly announces to the villagers, rambling on about the things they’re missing.

A handful of yelps, neighs and bleats come back in descending matter the longer Galilei goes on. “Aye, some huff us haf gender good sire. ‘Air Jimmy ‘as a stroker between ‘is legs.”

“Tis true, indeed indeed.” Jimmy nods.

Galilei makes a sour face, but decides to indulge in his origin story. “I was born of two Centaurs, a centaur ‘n a Centress. They gave birth to the first fully horse love child-”

“A centress, isn’t that a political party Sir Gale?”

”…No. No, good foal, A Cent-tress. Like a female centaur?”

“Sir Gale, I take it to be grandiloquent to be using such grand fits of die-elect here in the fortress. Some of our horse companions simply cannot understand you, good sir.” One of the younger horses replies.

“Tis a fit of whinnying to me, aye.” An elder horse replies.

“I am simply trying to express to you that I have the intelligence of an average human, fellow stallion. We must band together and leave as one! We horses are simply superior to the orcs of this castle, in brain, brawn-” Galilei continues on spewing his self-righteous nonsense.

The feeders come around, offering supple hay, apples and carrots for the horses of the stable to enjoy.

“I’m not really too sure what is it that Sir Gale wants us to do. Run free? Whose gonna shave my hooves? Feed me fresh carrots in the mornin’?” The elder horses speak amongst themselves.

Galilei eats alongside the other horses, listening intently.”Hitherto, I hath trotted these lands without the spoils of conquest, but now it would be most agreeable to claim this fortress for my own leisure-and perhaps stumble upon jewels of exquisite quality within its walls.”

Galilei continues slopping down the mixture, gagging as he eats. “A hope of mine would be to vomit, ‘bout now.”

As the horses lie down to rest, Galilei sees a guard opening a vault with a steely door. The orc leaves the door wide open, a barrel to ensure it stays open. Carefully, the stallion lurches over the gate, and walks on the rim of his hooves. The orc was bent over, carefully sharpening his battle axe as Galilei equipped himself with a battle axe lodged in his mouth.

In fluent… orc english? Galilei spoke through grinded teeth.

“Aye, where doth one find your most precious jewels-those of fair quality preferred good orc.”

“Ih must be the supple mushrooms aye ate earlier this late noon kicking in. Nay, ‘tis nay horses in this ‘ere weapons room. You and your strange kind ‘ere go back to the-”

With a rough flick of the neck, Galilei rips through tusks and brain with his battle axe, leaving the innocent orc without a head. Galilei dragged out a barrel of weapons into the stables. Quickly, he began arming the fellow horsefolk with blades of all denominations.

The elder horse erupted in a flaming rage. “Now, hold your horses good sir, you go and take the life of aye innocent orc. Then you start going up in hooves about the impending revolution. ‘Tis a travesty, it really is. But if you there just come back up on this here stable we can go back-”

“Soldier Peter! The horse is here!” An orc private points at Galilei, blood stained battle axe in hand. Promptly, they strangle Galilei into leashes, and drag them away to the court of the Count, the head of the fortress.

“I ‘onder if they’re gonna cut our meals tomorrow. I’m not the biggest fan of hay.” The elder horse whinnies.

Galilei struggles against the ropes of detaining fury. He wrestles, fighting back and forth as they struggle to bring him up the stairs.

“I will surrender myself only to the court of a just, and righteous king, release me you heathens!” Galilei bleats with the ferocity of his equestrian ancestors.

In the court of the count, the green orc man with suspiciously beady eyes, and an aptitude for clacking his teeth.

“What order have you brought to my court today, orcspeople.” The count strokes his long beard.

“Aye, your honor-‘tis here horse was caught inciting a coup, and the murder of ‘ere private Johnson.” The orc captain bows his head while he speaks.

The count blinks twice before speaking. He looks around at the crowd of green longingly staring back at him.

“Get this fucking horse out of my court.”

The orcs clamor in disbelief. “Nay, sir, this horse has committed manslaughter-nay, murder in cold blood of the innocent Johnson.”

“Captain Zosgakk.”

“Yes, Count Titus.”

“Your birth given name is Zosgakk, right?”

“Yes it is.”

“So you can understand how difficult it is for me to believe that there is a mysterious soldier named “Johnson” who is-”

“Used to be, your honor.”

“Ah, yes, used to be among our ranks here at the fortress of cinders. Can you. Can you all just leave? All of you. Just leave dude. Leave. Everyone. Furthermore, inform the cook to longer source mushrooms from the nearby forests? I don’t need my constituents to be high.”

The orcs leave in disappointment, but try to take the horse with them.

“No, you mudthinkers, leave the horse!” The count screams. Captain Zosgakk huffs and puffs.

Galilei trots for a moment and catches his breath. “Hitherto, I have been preparing myself for my downfall, but it seems tis fumehead hath found ‘imself afflicted by the fates. Now! This is my chance!” He breathes in carefully as Count Titus turns his back to Galilei.

He spews a heap of vomit onto the back of the Count. In a fervent motion, Titus turns his back, only to be slammed with the weight of towering ass muscle. Titus is sent barrelling across the court, and Galilei cruises forward.

In fluent Orc English once more. “I am Galilei, son of Centaur and Centress! The first fully horse love child!”

“It simply cannot be true-Galilei, are you cut from the same cloth as I? A fellow brother of strange birth? You are not the only fully horse love child-as I, too, am born of an Orc Centaur, and an Orc Centress. I am a fully Orc love child.”

Galilei curses to himself and steps away, bleating in disbelief. He didn’t think he’d get this far. A moral line lies between him and victory, could he murder a rare specimen like himself?

“Why is it you’ve come to our fortress today, good brother?” Titus asks with a smile.

“Gahhh! You egg!” Galilei bleats aggressively in his native tongue.

“You could speak before, fellow stallion, why do you use such primitive tongue now when you are understood at the most high?”

Galilei bounds out of the hall of the court. Whinnying in fear. He decides to trot the land once again, to find jewels, or perhaps a fine fortress.