Chapter 1

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The sun sets over the tall trees protecting the village, casting a warm glow on the dens and dirt paths. Leaves rustle gently in the breeze. The tribe members are attributing to their designated activities. Hunter men head into the deep forest, axes and bows in hand, to find supper. Most of the time it consisted of rabbit, wolf, or bear, but if they were able to travel without ambush, they sometimes made it as far as the alligator marsh. They often wasted their time attempting to domesticate giant wild boar for riding. If the village elders were lucky, hunters would occasionally cross paths with a porcupine, whose quills are often used for knitting.
A group of young orcs gather around the fire pit at the center of the village, listening intently to the stories of their elders.
These tales instill a strong sense of pride in their heritage.
Children have run off to play near the creek, and some of the local craftsmen work on creating new tools and weapons.
The sound of hammer on anvil echoes throughout the village. The hunters soon return with their catch, white wolf that is to be skinned and stewed over the fire. Laughter and lively conversation will fill the air as they share food and stories.
Unanticipatedly, murmurs and whispers erupt across the clan.
The village elders speculated that something was amiss. The usually fearless birds of prey had stopped circling overhead. Some believed it was a warning sign from the ancestors. Others feared it was the return of a powerful dark magic that once plagued the land.
A council of elders quickly gathered at the fire to discuss their theories and concerns.
Danger was looming just beyond the horizon.
"Prepare for battle!", commanded the horde chief, Gmork.
Elders and children scurried to hide.
Warhammers and daggers are drawn as the orcs positioned themselves in a V formation; horde chief in the very front, followed by the warriors of the Bartok clan, then male hunters, and lastly, women hunters.
Their weapons glinted in the sunlight, ready for the fierce combat that was about to ensue.
It was a rival tribe, the Thragg clan, plotting to overthrow Bartok and claim the land for themselves.
As the opposing army charged towards them, the warriors of Bartok met them head-on with brute force.
Gmork fought at the frontline, his bloodlust was unmatched.
War cries echoed throughout the air.
One foe, Odin, was particularly ferocious.
The ground shook under his footsteps, leaving a trail of destruction in his wake.
Among the crowd of female fighters was Isa. She was young and strong, with fiery green eyes and light brown hair. Although well built, she was outnumbered.
Odin instructed his underlings to capture her at once.
She attempted to run but was met face to face with an ululating warrior. Another one snuck behind her while the one in front of her swept her ankles, knocking her backward. The one in rear caught her by her arms as she fell, and together, they carried her off.
She yelped and pleaded with the tribesmen as they carried her to her doom.
She gave one last glimpse to Gmork, who had always protected her.
Upon seeing him severely mutilated and witnessing him take what appeared to be his last breaths, she nearly shed a tear.
Isa, now too choked up to scream, looked to the sky in acceptance.
It was dark now, and blanketed the forest with stars.
'Maybe he is up there.' , she thought before closing her eyes.


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