The Lag'ranna Mountains loomed behind the orcish camp like a wall of ancient teeth, their lower forests whispering beneath the night wind. Fires burned low and controlled...orcish fires were never wasteful...casting red light across hides, iron, and scarred flesh.
At the center of the camp, a wide stone circle had been cleared. Rough-hewn slabs marked the edges, each bearing old claw marks and the stains of past councils.
This was a place of decision.
Khao'khen stood at the head of the circle, his presence alone enough to quiet even the loudest warriors. He did not wear ceremonial armor...only his usual attire, a bit worn-out animal skin. His expression was unreadable, his posture immovable.
Around him gathered the chieftains and war leaders of the host.
Dhug'mur of the Rock Bear Tribe sat like a mountain himself, arms folded, breathing slow and deep.
Virkan of the Black Tree Tribe leaned forward slightly, eyes sharp, always calculating.
