Page 2 of X'nath

As the camp buzzed with preparations, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this journey was going to be different. There was something about it, something beyond just the promise of loot and women. Whatever lay ahead, I knew it would push us to our limits—and that was exactly what I wanted.

We gathered our men in the heart of the mountain, where its looming walls shielded our camp from the dangers of the outside world. As I took in the sight of our clan, that familiar rush of adrenaline surged through me. “Listen up, you scrappy lot!” I shouted. “Tonight, we raid! Let’s show the world what real orcs are made of!”

The response was immediate. A deafening roar erupted from the group, their voices booming in unison. Orcs lifted their weapons high—axes, swords, crude rifles—and pounded their fists against shields. Some checked their gear, tightening strapsand sharpening blades, while others slapped each other on the back, grinning like they were already in the thick of the fight. Excitement filled the air, a primal energy that made the ground beneath us seem to tremble.

"Just remember to keep your mouth shut while we’re sneaking around!" Greag barked from behind us, his voice cutting through the chatter. Laughter rippled through the group, the sound of camaraderie building the tension before the raid.

“Right, right,” I replied, waving my hand dismissively. “I’ll let my looks do the talking.”

“Good luck with that, X’nath,” another orc chuckled from the back. “I’ll bring the ointment for the burns when you scare them off!”

The group erupted in laughter again, but Greag was quick to silence it with a sharp look. He moved through the crowd, checking on the final preparations. Our group was now set—a band of seven orcs, a mix of those in their prime and others who had seen battle in the past.

Vakgar, stood at the front, his massive frame towering over most of us. A seasoned warrior with the scars to prove it, he had the strength of a bear and the experience of a dozen battles.

Beside him was Korrin, a battle-hardened orc who had once led a charge against a human fort before his clan fell into disarray. His weathered face was marked with years of war, his weapon—a pistol and a jagged hammer—always within arm's reach.

Then there was Gorruk, older than most, with a grizzled beard that looked like it had seen decades of hard living. He was silent but deadly, a master of stealth despite his age, and had a reputation for quietly slipping behind enemy lines and vanishing into the shadows. He had seen enough fights to know when to strike and when to wait.

The rest of us were a mix of younger orcs, still finding our way in the world, but no less fierce for it. I took my place among them, feeling the weight of my axe settle in my hands as I scanned the group. Yargol chattered at my feet, clearly as eager as I was, his fur bristling with anticipation.

“Everyone ready?” Greag called, his voice low but carrying over the group. Bolg ran between his legs and climbed onto his shoulder.

We all nodded, tightening our gear one last time, checking weapons, and adjusting straps. The air was charged with focus now, the joking and laughter fading as we moved into our final preparations.

Greag gave a sharp nod, his gaze steady. "Good. We hit hard, we hit fast, and we stay quiet. The loot is ours for the taking—if we do this right."

I could feel the pulse of excitement in the pit of my stomach, but there was also a sharpened edge of caution. The older orcs had seen enough to know what could go wrong. This wasn’t just a raid for loot—it was a chance to prove ourselves, to show the clans what we were made of. We weren’t just a band of outcasts anymore; we were Savage Claw Clan, and it was time to make our mark.

Silence descended upon us as we left the heart of the mountain. With a cocky grin, I faced the horizon. Tonight, we’d either claim our future or dive deeper into chaos. Either way, I was ready for it all, with my weasel by my side and my clan at my back. With a grin plastered on my face, I knew we were destined for something unforgettable—or at least, a night to remember.

2

Shadows in the Fog

X’NATH

The trek through the forest felt less like a journey and more like a descent into madness, each of us navigating twisted roots and ominous shadows that loomed like specters. The air was thick with mist, swirling around us like a ghostly shroud, and the deeper we ventured, the more it felt as though the woods were breathing, alive with malevolent intent.

“Keep your eyes peeled,” I called out, my voice echoing against the trees. “This isn’t just a stroll in the woods! There are horrors lurking in the shadows!”

“Like your face?” Greag quipped, dodging a low-hanging branch. The others laughed, but a chill settled in my gut. We’d all heard stories about this forest—whispers of lost souls and creatures twisted by dark magic. Most of our clan rarely ventured this far unless absolutely necessary, preferring to send out weasels and scouts to do the work for us. There were enough horrors on the other side of the mountain to worry about, threats we had to keep at bay to protect our home.

As we pressed on, the ground squelched beneath our boots, the muck of the swamp oozing between our toes as wetransitioned away from the canopy of the forest. The closer we got to the shore, the more the air throbbed with an unnatural energy. The trees grew thicker and their branches twisted unnaturally, swaying slightly despite the stillness of the air.

“Oi! What’s that?” One of the younger orcs, Karg, suddenly pointed, his finger trembling.

We turned to see a tangle of vines coiling ominously around a weathered stone. It looked almost like a gnarled hand reaching from the ground, its fingers claw-like and beckoning.

“Just a plant, you softie,” I scoffed, though the sight sent a shiver racing down my spine, making me grip the hilt of my axe tighter. “Probably just wants to shake our hands. What’s it gonna do—give us a hug?”

“Or pull us down into the depths!” Greag added, his eyes wide with mock horror. “Right into the muck, where we’ll be lost forever!”

But before we could joke any further, a low, eerie howl pierced the air, sending a chill through our ranks. “What was that?” Karg whispered, his eyes darting around, weapon at the ready.

“Probably just the wind,” I said, but my heart was racing in both excitement and trepidation. “Or a very lonely wolf. If it wants company, it should go find Greag’s mother!”

The group erupted in soft laughter, but it echoed strangely, swallowed by the fog. It was a reminder that we were intruding on something ancient, something that didn’t welcome visitors.

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