A Dark Shadow

[Grunith Shuth]

The water churned and swatted at the sides of the heavily wooden boat, and the heavy armored figure that stood at the tip of the mighty, battered ship gazed onward at the island as he once again returned from some far off land. His red eyes glared out over the island, their intent very well veiled. The sailors who traveled with this silent once were wary of his presence, though, and held every mistrust toward him. They knew what this one was capable of, and they saw what he had done to those who had dared to pick a fight with him the week previously when they had set off from the port city out east.

It was only with the twists of his hands that he killed one of the dock bastards. He stunk of malice. This island known as Gobaith seemed to bring it out of him most, and it was with every intent that his blood red gaze stared to the northern part of the island.

Twice had he been a leader there, and twice had it been stripped from him by outside forces. He was growing tired of having his vision of this island and of his race being impeded, and he was ready to go at any length to make sure it would not happen again. His father demanded nothing less than success from him, as his Lord did of all others of the Orcs.

The blood-red skull that he donned upon his bare chest stood defiantly out against the translucent light of the moon, and it glared angrily along with its bearer. The axe that was hoisted of his back had not seen blood in years. The Orc, with all his vigor, had return to Gobaith.

He had return once again with his vision, and this time, he had returned once more with seering red eyes full of determination and anger. The time of glory for the orcs had come once again. None would impede them. None would seek to stop them, least they suffer the wrath of Moshran's chosen - the orcs.