text: One Month Later…
  
  
  The large wooden gates of the village creak open, the surrounding orcs casting suspicious glances your way.  A few even have their hands on some weapons nearby, and you do not blame them.
  
  
  Riding in through the mist which veils dawn's light, you appear almost as a specter of death.  Lifting the hood, you give your brethren a weary nod. 
  
  
  A few of their eyes widen as they recognize you, some stand unsure of who you are, and some just shrug and go back to their business. 
  
  
  One orc approaches you.
  
  
  "Who are you?"
  
  
  "I am Nolazir, surrogate chief of the River Tribe in place of Chief Greusim."
  
  
  The orc's eyes widen.
  
  
  "It's been four years, and you have not found a replacement? Does he have any sons?"
  
  
  You nod.
  
  
  "One, but he is young and impatient.  I will stand in until he has learned how to do his duty with patience and wisdom."
  
  
  The orc scoffs at the unthinkable act of leaving a tribe largely chief less.
  
  
  "What is it that you seek?"
  
  
  "I want to speak with your chief," you say.
  
  
  The orc shrugs and gives you directions to the chief's hut.  That was a bit easier than you thought.
  
  
  As you ride forward, the large hut comes into view.  You are impressed to see that it actually has two stories to it.  Most orcs chose to build one floor but with a wider house, although you are aware the council has at least three floors.
  
  
  Pushing this useless information out of your mind, you hop off your horse.  Your legs are stiff from the long ride, and you take a moment to stretch them.
  
  
  Muffled yelling comes out from within the doors of the chief's hut.  Splinters of wood fly as the door bursts open.  A hapless orc youth falls out and tumbles down the stairs. 
  
  
  A large, broad orc steps out.  His dark mane falling past his shoulders, two sharp teeth protrude from his bottom lip.  His right eye looks like it is perpetually swollen halfway shut, a series of scars emanating from the side of his eye and going all the way to his ear.  On his head rests a helmet with two bullhorns attached to it.
  
  
  His tribal necklaces jingle as he bounds down the steps, his boot landing in the young orc's face.
  
  
  "Fool, how could you be so incomprenent?" he says, not realizing he butchered the word.
  
  
  The youth prepares to defend himself, but the chief is too fast.  He twists the orcs arm and lands several fists into his ribs.  As he continues to beat the orc, you wonder if he will kill him. 
  
  
  While you have the strong urge to step in, you also don't want to get into another tribe's affairs.  They could easily kill you for interfering, although it wouldn't be the first time you have pissed off an orc chief. 
  > You stay out of it
  The chief just continues to wail on the youngster, his nose battered and turned wrong.  Blood oozes out of his nostrils and his left eye seems to be swollen shut.  He tries to talk but it just comes out as garble. 
  
  
  "What!? I can't hear you," the chief screams, "you'll have to speak louder than that!"
  
  
  The youth's mouth begins to move, and as he does so, the chief's hand lifts and curls into a fist.  The larger orc raises an eyebrow, daring the smaller to try to speak again.  Realizing he is being given a chance, the younger sighs and remains quiet.
  
  
  "Coward!" the chief yells and drops the other orc onto the ground.
  
  
  He just lays there, silently soaking in the pain inflicted upon him.  The chief turns to you, satisfaction in his eyes.
  
  
  "Who the hell are you?" he asks.
  
  
  "My name is Nolazir, of the River Tribe…as some call it."
  
  
  "Hah! Foolish name!" he says, "I am Chief Gro'tesk, and you are…..ah, Nolazir."
  
  
  He grins.
  
  
  "I've heard of you, fighting the humans….but you let your warriors argue with you," he says, "you have gone soft!  You should pummel them into the ground whenever they so much as look at you the wrong way."
  
  
  "Maybe I'm not so harsh to my own," you say, "but I don't give that same kindness to strangers."
  
  
  Gro'tesk's eyes narrow, and he snarls. 
  
  
  "Are you threatening me?" he asks.
  
  
  "No, I'm challenging you," you say, "if I win, you and your allies join me."
  
  
  "If I win….you screw off!" Gro'tesk growls.
  
  
  By now, a large group of orcs has gathered around.  All of them cheering on Gro'tesk as he removes his tribal necklaces.  They make a circle around you as you prepare to fight…