In the dusk, an old orc approaches the town

[Knak' gash]

Long the shadows were growing, outside of the human town. The noises of countless voices, of shiny metal falling over greedy desks, of sharp weapons being sheathed or unsheathed as fast as the mood of their wielder change, created a distant mumble in the outskirts of the settlement. From who knows where, maybe a treacherous forest, a dark and smelly cave or the dying sun himself, and old orc approached to the town, his steps being slow and well thought, as if every single one of them was an overwhelming effort. Besides his clear age, and a not less clear limp in his right leg, he seem to refuse to walk with a cane, probably a once mighty warrior and shaman would feel dishonored with such commodities. Behind him, at less distance of what a gynkese fire would travel if the old orc threw it, a with fast and clumsy movements, a small goblin followed him, his face showing an expression that from all the places in the island he could be, walking after the old orc would be the last. The old orc stood in front of the mighty gates, with an uncomfortable look in his face, probably he just was tired, most likely the smell was hurting his nose. Without looking to no one in particular, not even a fixed point, as if the air was his audience, he started his small speech.


-Time has come, brudahs… for mighty of Father being show in world, yes… the old horns are screaming, and their echo can be heard in every corner of da Holy Mountain, even all in Gobiath, yes…

He takes air, and continues talking with his trembling but mighty voice.
-The time for orcs have come, for Father being praised, fur us be consider a mighty an unstoppable force in da island, for the oomies looking us with respect and fear, that we deserve, yes… Is time for gather, for our words being spread all across Gobiath and Illarion, for orcs coming to da mighty mountain, and see the mighty of Father, and have the honor of fighting and dying as warriors, privilege that few races have to use as name, yes…

Looks around, as he hears the mumble of the town getting softer, while guards with sharp weapons manning the walls, looking at the old orc and his unwelcomed preaching. After that, he gave them a challenging gaze, and continues his speech.
-This is first time old orc speaks about truth of Father, but not last, be the word carried, that orcs are rising again, yes…


As the sound of bolts being putted into crossbows raised from he walls of Bane, the old orc patiently starts walking away, while the small goblin hissed in disapproval at starting to travel again, after a quick and threatening gaze from the old orc, that wasn’t enough to make the complaining look on he goblin’s face to fade, both of them disappeared in he mist of the night.