Chapter 9

A rhythmic chanting arose from the Orc camp in harmony with the sinister drums played around various campfires. The blood-dyed tents formed several half-circles on the open plain. Among them, one pale-blue pavilion stood in stark contrast. The flap opened and out strode Oshiah followed quickly by Wilgar and Cirox. Within the tent, Vannah curled up on a spread of pillows while an attentive black dog stood guard.
“Your fighting style is very subtle Cirox” Oshiah said as they passed Orc patrols. Smiling, Cirox responded, “I didn’t know I had a style of fighting. I just do what I have to do with what I have. I suppose I’ve learned a trick or two along the way.” As they arrived at their destination, a large red tent, they could see the the Chieftains great reptilian mount within a makeshift corral.
From within the large tent, the growling voice of the Chieftain could be heard as well as that of another Orc who spoke in whispers. The three stood at the entrance and waited. The flap slowly pulled open and a crooked and hunched Orc stepped through. He scowled at the humans that stood in his way, his clouded eyes looked to each of them in turn. Drool trickled from his misshapen lip. Gesturing with his gnarled hand, he spoke with a thick accent. “Move you foul lumps of flesh before I rend you.” The three parted to permit his departure. He pulled a cowl up over his head and limped down the path leaning heavily on a cane. The three looked at each other, shrugged and stepped through the opening in the tent.
Inside, Sorris Pale, the Orc Chieftain, hung calmly from a cross beam by straps on his ankles. Large engorged leeches dangled from his chest. His deep guttural voice spoke “Your efforts here have not been wasted. My people may revel in combat, but they cannot thrive there. Only through a peaceful existence with our neighbors can we flourish as a tribe.” Releasing the straps, Sorris dropped to a handstand on the floor of his tent and then rolled to his feet. The leeches dropped off as he stood, blood ran from both of the holes in his chest. Seeing his guests staring at the wounds, Sorris commented, “My blood is drawn so rarely in battle, I must find other ways of cleansing it.” Wrapping a robe around his body, Sorris walked to a low table and unrolled a map. “I have held my lines here and here, withdrawn from the human kingdoms here and here, but that’s not enough to bring a halt to this. You still need to convince this human king that the raids into his lands were not my Orcs.” With a confident smile, Wilgar replied, “This I will do, you have my word on it.” The smile faded as he spoke more sternly, “However, our quest to bring these impostors to justice also requires my attention.” Sorris responded, “I think I can help you on that front. The shaman that just left here used the bodies you brought me to divine a location. He will help you.”