text: u get a feeling, not of immediate danger from the goblins standing before you, but a dark foreboding.
  
  You and the goblin stare each other down, the whole time you think about what you should do. 
  
  [Add link for Reign of Amortia]
  > turn Back
  Sensing that continuing on this mission would be foolish, you begin to leave.
  
  "I don't think that will be necessary," you say as you nod your head.
  
  Your orcs protest, but you hold up a hand to silence them.  The goblin just smirks and bids you farewell.
  
  A sense of relief sweeps over you as the horse trots out of the marsh.  There was something weird going on there, and you don't want to know what it was.  You have more important things to worry about right now.
  
  You hear a couple of the other orcs express their relief in getting out of there as well.  Soaking up all the little conversation, you are content to sit quietly and enjoy the trip back to your camp.
  
  A couple weeks later, you have arrived, many orcs welcome you and your group back.  The journey back was much shorter, as you didn't have to spend any time searching; like you needed to do on the way to the goblin camp.
  
  On the other side of the camp, there appears to be a large addition, namely dozens and dozens of tents and large groups of orcs.  You can tell from their tattoos, paints, clothing, and general demeanor that these are the lawless tribes that Grolik had gathered in the last month or so.
  
  Going around the camp, you gather Rolomag, Grolik, Galik, Dekard, and a few other orcs.  Bringing them into the tent, you start to go through plans for fighting the Empire... 
  > One Year Later
  Over the course of the last year, things have been going smoothly for you and your army.  Some of the lawless orcs have begun to push the dwarves out of Orcin.  As per your instructions, they haven't used methods that were too over the top.  You don't want to attract the might of the dwarven armies, and other than a few small skirmishes there has not been a whole lot of trouble for them.
  
  The Imperial patrols and camps have increased, but they have not taken any ground.  In fact, they lost some serious distance a few months ago.  You led a large assault on a couple of the camps, then about a week later some of your scouts were overrun by a surprise Imperial patrol.  Among them was one of your best scouts, an orc named Ruzmar.  In retaliation for the dead scouts, you staged another large attack.
  
  Unlike the last one, you managed to recover a lot of loot and supplies, while killing multiple Imperial soldiers. 
  
  In the meantime, you have not heard from the goblins.  They have not moved any further into Orcin, and they haven't moved back to the hills and plains.  There were reports of some minor earthquakes in the area, but nothing after that.
  
  Several of the Council members visited your camp recently as well.  Some congratulated you, and others scorned and chastised you for fighting the Mannate Empire so doggedly.  In the last couple of months, the Council got the Empire to agree to stop the fighting.  While you didn't agree with this, you have respected the armistice.  From what your messenger has told you, the Council and Imperial ambassadors are at a stalemate in terms of negotiating a treaty.
  
  You have just taken this time to better arm and train your orcs, for when the Empire continues the fight, you will be ready.  The peace has allowed many of the orcs to take an extended leave to return to their homes though.  Many have farms, cattle, families, and other important endeavors to watch over.  So until it is time to recall your orcs, a skeleton crew patrols the mountains and borderlands. 
  > home Again
  After a long day of taking care of household duties, you sit and watch your children.  Grovlar and Vokra have gotten big.  It seems they do so considerably every time you have taken a trip back during these last three years.  It has been a whole nine years since you finished fighting the Wister Elves, and since the last time you saw Valek.
  
  While you do take care of home and village life, messengers bring regular reports to you on the state of the conflict with the Empire.  Not much has changed in the last few days, of course.  You are actually content with it being so, and, who knows, maybe the Council will come to an agreement with the Empire.
  
  Gilikia, your wife, comes outside.  She kisses you before looking at the children at play.  Little Lagrik stumbles around, trying to keep up with the two older kids.
  
  "When is this all going to end?" she asks.  "You know we need you here, Nolazir."
  
  "I am doing what needs to be done," you say.  "When it is all over, I will return home, and I will stay here."
  
  "They won't be small forever.  Don't you want to watch them grow up?  And what if you... ."
  
  She trails off, not able to say the obvious concern on her mind.  You turn, taking her hand in yours.
  
  "I've been through too much for too long to let anyone or anything take you all away from me." You say as you stand up and embrace her, and, stepping back, you continue to hold her hands.
  
  "I have been blessed with you, my beautiful wife, and these healthy, strong children," you say.  "If it weren't for you all those years ago...  well, you pretty much saved me from what I would have become."
  
  You step a little bit closer.
  
  "If Gigalak didn't intend for us to be together," you say, "he would have never let me off those muddy fields in the Elven kingdom, but he did, and I am grateful to have you all.  I know he will return me to you every time."
  
  "Well... how do you know?" she asks.
  
  "Because, while I may be off fighting in the mountains and off finding the Imperials in the forests... my heart is here, with you all, and an orc always returns to where his heart is."
  
  She leans into you, squeezing with all her might. 
  
  "I love you," she says.  "I know you'll always return to me."
  
  You smile and hold her, as you turn and watch the children playing...  and once in a while eating an insect on the ground... 
  > Six Months Pass
  The last few months find you and your army in the forests by the border.  Reports had come of a legion of Imperials slowly making their way to the border.  In the meantime, you have amassed assistance from a few more orc tribes.  All the while, the Imperials wait, and your forces grow stronger and stronger.
  
  You wait, while the rain pelts your face.  Every orc is silent as the ground starts to become muddy at the intensity of the precipitation. 
  
  You signal the orcs to move forward, a slow trod through the mud.  The Imperials are moving dozens of soldiers through, but if all goes to plan they'll never make it to the staging ground.  By the time you reach them, you are hoping their supply wagons will be stuck in the mud, and their horses antsy at every trick and sound of the forests. 
  
  When the time is right, you will strike, and make them pay.  If the Imperials seek to break their treaty, you will show them the consequences.  You all have your padded leather gambesons over your chainmail, extra leather straps tied around to reduce some of the clinking the chain tends to make.
  
  Riding forward, you catch Grolik's eye, who nods at you.  Rolomag as well, who winks and pats his heart with his palm in a sign of respect. 
  
  Coming up to a ridge, you signal your forces to stop.  Creeping low through the foliage, you see the Imperial columns.  As suspected, their wagons seem to mostly be stuck in the mud.  At your signal, your archers start their painstaking crawl over to the ridgeline. 
  
  The other third, slowly bring their horses onto both sides of the columns, preparing their charge.  On the other side across from you, some of the lawless orcs should be preparing their attack on the Mannate soldiers.  The cavalry orcs should still be fighting their way through by the time the archers are done, and when that happens they will slide down the slope.  You don't want to run the risk of accidentally shooting your cavalry, so the archers will have to work fast, but by then the Imperials will be surrounded, and you should be able to crush them. 
  
  As the rain intensifies a bit, their horses get even antsier.  As the lightning strikes, the soldiers look into the dark forests, fear apparent.  When the thunder claps, their officers bark orders to hurry and move the wagons from the mud.
  > stay with the Archers
  When the heavens are silent, the wind stops blowing for a moment, and the trees stop their near eternal sway, a single arrow soars.
  
  The Imperial officer, in the middle of yelling his commands.  Lurches forward, his face curling up as the arrow pierces his chainmail, sticking through his heart.  Only a moment after, dozens of arrows are unleashed upon the hapless soldiers.
  
  Their cries ring out, almost drowned out by the thunder of Gigalak's wrath.  Many soldiers lay wounded, and others lay fallen.  They try to hide behind their wagons, some even shooting back.  You lay low as some of their arrows pierce the foliage, a few lucky shots downing some of your comrades.
  
  An Imperial crouches behind a wagon, your arrow ready to be released and show the Imperial his doom.  As the lawless fire their arrows, the Imperial screams as arrows slam into his back.  On both sides, Imperial and Orcish cavalry alike duel on, the clamor raging. 
  
  At your signal, you and the orcs charge down the slope.  You slide through the mud, running as you touch the bottom.  Some arrows happen to miss you, swept off course by Gigalak's hand, and you break into the soldiers.
  
  The first one you slash with your sword, his blood oozing from his coat and covering the top of his hauberk.  A swooshing sound comes from up ahead, a soldier's sword clinking against your leather padding and chainmail as you dodge the blow.
  
  With a roar you embed your axe into his shoulder.  His chain catches most of it, but you ram your sword pommel into his jaw.  His face being reduces to a broken jaw and a bloody face, you turn to deflect blows from his other comrades.
  
  A spearman downs the orc next to you.  Noticeably, his armor covers his face, two slits over where his eyes are, and a grate over his mouth.  He spins and twirls, intent on tripping you up.  You are too experienced and would not fall for this trick.  With a hop you avoid this maneuver, charging towards him as he brings the spear up and around.
  
  As your foe tries to bring the spear down, you catch it in the shoulder of your axe.  Pushing it away, you step forward and jab your sword.  He grunts as the tip pierces his armor, and he accidentally drops the spear.
  
  Taking this moment, you charge and swing.  Two other Imperials rush in to his aid, one nearly beheading you.  You roar and charge forward, ramming the sword all the way through his gut.  The second Imperial nicks your arm, and you slam the hammer side of your axe into his head. 
  
  The spearman draws a dagger, jabbing at your side.  It bounces off the chainmail, and seeing this, he and the other soldier charge you.  With the axe you deflect a dagger blow, ramming your shoulder into the spearman.  The other Imperial tries to aim for your throat, but, with a quick parry, your axe lands in his face.  A gurgling cry comes out, stymied by the blade in his face. 
  
  A squelching sound comes from behind, and you swing around just in time.  The spearman lifted a sword from a fallen comrade and stepped into jam it through your back.  Luckily you sidestep this and, grabbing his wrists, you twist the sword from his grasp.  He grunts as you force him to drop it, and slam one hand into his face, exposing his throat.
  
  With a mighty cry, you send your fist into his exposed throat.  A pained choke coming from behind the helmet, he steps back and grips his throat.  He falls to one knee, his windpipe crushed, and his adam's apple dislodged.  You turn your attention to other combatants as the spearman struggles with choking to death... 
  > forward
  The Imperials try to hold out, managing to down a few orcs, but, in the end, they are overwhelmed.  You stand, stabbing an Imperial with one of their own spears repeatedly.  His friend, clutching an injury, swipes his blade at you.  You step back to dodge and ram the spear into his throat.  Gurgling as he goes down he swings once more; his blade scratches your hand but not too deep.
  
  Twisting and pulling the spear, you yank it from his corpse.  You run forward, seeing the orcs beating down a group of Imperials.  The last few men seem terrified, and one not older than seventeen trembles.  If you could hear over the sound of the fighting, you would be able to hear his knees causing his hauberk to clink together. 
  
  Before you can reach them, the rest of the orcs have stabbed and battered them into oblivion.  Some orcs ride into the forest to find the fleeing soldiers.
  
  You pant, watching the massacre taking place all around.  Wounded men cry out, and some lay there dying quietly. 
  
  An orc approaches you, the frenzy of blood-shed just starting to wear off. 
  
  "What shall we do with the wounded?" he asks.
  
  You sit there and think for a moment.  Orcs have never really taken prisoners, and you don't have the supplies to care for their wounded.  You are worried about having enough medical supplies for your own as it is. 
  
  Although it might help to take some of them ransom, there is not too much that you would need, so maybe just leaving them to die would be better. 
  > finish them off
  "Finish off the wounded," you cry.  "Leave no survivors!"
  
  At this, the orcs seem to go into a frenzy again as they start clubbing, hacking, and slashing the wounded.  Some orcs even loot the dying men before slicing off their scalps. 
  
  Stepping forward to do your dirty work, you flip over an injured soldier with your foot.  Placing the sword tip to his throat, the man tries to talk but his voice seems hoarse.  He sputters as rainwater barrages his mouth, and he soon closes it to die quietly.
  
  With your foot on his chest, he feebly grabs your calf.  Snarling, you push the sword down as the tip slowly pushes through.  Blood oozes out of the neck wound, the man sputtering and choking on his blood, and the blade penetrating through.  In a matter of moments, his hands stop feebly hitting your leg as they go limp.
  
  In the large crowd of orcs, you see Grolik.  He pushes a spear tip into a dying human, his face twisting into a mixture of anger and shame.  As Grolik pulls the spear out, you catch his glance.  Guilt written all over his face.
  
  You were not aware that an orc such as he could have such emotions.  It comes as a bit of a shock to you, but sometimes tough things must be done to preserve victory.  While killing the helpless is not a task for the faint of heart, it must take its toll on some.
  
  Rolomag sits on a rock, using a rag to nurse a gash on his cheek.  He seems tired, and just sits and watches the other orcs.  A good amount of whom are helping your injured orcs.  Sighing you decide it is a job best fit for them, as you have other work to do. 
  
  You wander off to continue... 
  > aftermath, Six Months Later
  These past six months after the battle where you ambushed the soldiers in the mud have been brutal.  You continued to push through, fighting patrol after patrol.  It seems that after some time, the humans have wised up, laying counter traps and ambushes.  These did not work too favorably for them at first, but they soon developed their skills.
  
  Unlike them, you don't have hundreds and hundreds of recruits.  You and your army are tired, theirs is often quite fresh.  These skirmishes have dragged out over the last four years, and while they are not as intense as the four years of war you experienced with the Wister Elves, it is taking its toll.
  
  You need more troops, and you need them fast.  It may be time to unite all of the orc tribes, as this concerns them as well.  While they are not fully involved, they have not been entirely complacent.  Some have traveled far to join you and your warriors, believing it is in the best interest of Orcin. 
  
  You have heard of reports of other armies such as yours gathering up.  Having tried to correspond with them, there have been delays, or the messages never arrive.  The increased Imperial presence must be contributing to this.  It seems that every month brings more and more of them on your doorstep.  You know that soon, they will be ready for a giant push.  The ambush and sabotage missions can only hold them back for so long.
  
  While you do technically have your troops on some kind of rotation, it hasn't been enough.  The only real reason for the rotation is that you and many other orcs have homes and families to take care of.  Many of them have family and children old enough to help out on their farms and their ways of living; which you believe should at least help them in their home efforts.  The winters have been especially brutal these last few years though.  The only consolation is that, as orcs, you all tend to live off the land when agriculture is not available, which has helped immensely. 
  
  Your recent decision to bring all of your warriors back into the fight has caused grumbling from many.  They do not rebel though, as they know they work for the good of all of orc-kind.
  
  While there are some that don't agree with everything you are doing, such as Galik and sometimes Grolik, you suppose that is bound to happen in these situations.  
  
  Leaving your tent, you go to check up on things...
  > by the Border
  Standing on a rocky ridge, you watch over a large clearing.  On the other side is a forest leading from Orcin and into the Imperial lands.  Behind you stands Galik, who seems to be lost in thought. 
  
  "Just a few miles out there," you say, "lies the Imperial homeland."
  
  Galik raises an eyebrow and steps forward, standing at your side.
  
  "Will we be waging war in their home? As they have done to us?"
  
  "No," you say, "they have legions staged in those forests.  Going in now would be suicide."
  
  "So what, we're just going to sit here and let them take back the land we just kicked them out of?"
  
  "Yes...  to a point.  See this field? They'll never cross it on our watch, but they will try."
  
  You sigh and pat Galik's shoulder.
  
  "I need you all to watch over everything for me."
  
  "What? Are you leaving us?"
  
  "Not for long," you say.  "I need to get some help.  Unite the tribes."
  
  "That's impossible, they'll never agree to join us.  If the Empire kills us all, well, they don't want to be held responsible as well."
  
  "No, they'll see reason," you say.  "This affects all of us."
  
  "Nolazir," Galik says, "if you don't move us into their homeland soon, I will do it."
  
  "Don't, you fool.  This would put all these past few years of fighting to an end, and it wouldn't be good for us."
  
  You point to Rolomag who is standing nearby.
  
  "Make sure he doesn't do anything stupid."
  
  With that, you mount your horse and ride back into the lands of Orcin.  While you have left a few trusted orcs in charge, you hope not to take too long.  Galik's impatience could spell doom for the Orcish army.  Rolomag certainly will obey your orders.
  
  You are not sure of Grolik though, he has been scarce the last couple of days.  He seems to be leading his orcs from inside his tent.
  
  While you are not sure of the outcome, you know you will fight the Mannate Empire until the bitter end.
  
  Breathing in, you take in the air of the forests as you make your way to the tribes.
  > rising Part Two
  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. 
  > step In
  You walk forward, prepared for anything.  The orc chief snorts as he stops wailing on the orc young for a moment. 
  
  "Who the hell are you?" he asks.
  
  "Nolazir of the River Tribe," you say.  "I'm here to see the chief."
  
  "I am Chief Gro'tesk," he snorts again.  "Nolazir, huh?  I've heard of you.  Getting soft for an orc, are ya?"
  
  Your eyes narrow, some think you've gone soft, and others think it's just your age. 
  
  "I'm not sure what you're talking about."
  
  "Pshhah, you let those under you argue and disagree with you all day long. The right way is to beat them into submission."
  
  "Why don't you just leave him alone, he is already defeated."
  
  The chief laughs and throws the young one to the ground, he cannot be any older than fifteen.  Gro'tesk lands a couple swift kicks to his ribs.
  
  "You done beating him yet?" you ask.
  
  Gro'tesk's eyes narrow, he straightens up and stares at you.
  
  "No," he says, "and I don't think you'll do anything about it either"
  
  "Oh yeah, and why is that?"
  
  "Because you need me, and my allies," he says.  "You want us to help you fight the humans?"
  
  "Yes."
  
  "Well, I'm not gonna help you!" he snarls.  "You're nothing but a weakling!"
  
  Taking a deep breath, and, tilting your chin down slightly, you frown.
  
  "So are we going to do this the hard way?"
  
  The chief grins and cracks his knuckles.  You slowly roll your neck and stretch your arms back. 
  
  "I have two conditions," you say.  "If I win, you join me, along with your allies, and you stop beating the kid."
  
  "If I win...  you screw off!" Gro'tesk screams.
  
  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... 
  > fight!
  Fists raised, you step to the side, constantly circling your foe.  Gro'tesk does likewise, a sadistic grin spread across his face. 
  
  With a huff you step forward, your fist twisting as the arm propels it forward.  Gro'tesk's cheek ripples and his head turns as he moves with the punch.  At the same time his fist flies, you manage to knock it away.
  
  Ducking under, you slam your left fist into his ribs and come back up slamming into his jaw.
  
  Gro'tesk staggers back, bewildered at your speed.  Although you are quite a large orc, he is bigger than you.
  
  He throws a backhand, which hits your defending arm.  As he brings it back, he sends his other fist forward, which you manage to parry.  But, in your rush, you accidentally lower your right arm a bit too far... 
  
  As it connects a quick flash of dark splits through your vision, but only for a brief moment.  As you stagger back, a pain shoots through your jaw.  Managing to duck another blow, you push your opponent back, a move he was not expecting.
  
  As you try to regain your ground, you feel a fuzziness spreading throughout your head.  Getting punched sucks. 
  
  As you step forward, you consider your next move... 
  > feign a Kick
  Lifting your knee, you hop forward and act as though you are about to kick Gro'tesk's shin.  He brings one hand down to push your leg away, and in this moment you slam your foot into the ground, lurching forward. 
  
  In the same movement, you reel your fist back and then bolt forward.  Your knuckles hit him straight in the forehead, this is followed by another swift hit right under his eye.
  
  Gro'tesk grunts and staggers back.  With a mighty roar he charges you, slamming one punch into your chest. 
  
  "Oof!"
  
  The blow knocks the wind out of you, throwing you to the ground.  Chief Gro'tesk savagely lands a quick kick to your face.  Reeling to the side you land face first in the dirt, the heavy pounding of his feet stopping as he lifts his foot again.
  > cheap Shot
  Grunting and rolling, you dodge his right foot, stopping under and between both of his legs.  Pushing up on your forearm, your other hand curls into a fist, hitting him right in the sweet spot with a thud.  He hunches a bit as his face contorts into pain. 
  
  He screams as his knees buckle, but before he can fall forward you slam your foot into his stomach, toppling him another way.
  
  You pant as you pull yourself up, looking at the large group of orcs standing around you.  Some look disapprovingly at your method of winning, others stand in awe, and some appear indifferent.  The chief grunts as he rolls around in pain.
  
  "No fair!" he says, "that was cheating!"             
  
  "There is no such thing as cheating when you're about to get your face stomped in."
  
  The chief manages to pull himself up.
  
  "Fine!" he says," you win."
  
  The chief pouts as he hobbles over to his hut, and you follow to give him your terms.
  > terms and Conditions
  Gro'tesk sits on his large fur and leather chair, looking glum.  It's apparent he is used to getting his way, but so are you. 
  
  You grin as you finish explaining your terms.
  
  "You would still largely be in command of your tribe and your allies," you say, "only I will have final say and make the larger battlefield and strategic decisions."
  
  "Hmm, I don't like to be bossed around."
  
  "You wouldn't be so much," you say.  "Think of yourself still as a chief and advisor, only I'm just supervising the rest of you."
  
  Gro'tesk seems to mull this over and leans back. 
  
  "Well as long as I get some say in things... "
  
  With that, you have Gro'tesk agree to go meet your army, along with the lesser tribes that follow him. 
  
  You go and mount your horse, intent on gathering some more tribes... 
  > Two Months Later....
  You've traveled far the past three months total, gaining the support from large and small tribes alike.  It has been tough convincing some, but others are far more agreeable.  From the reports you've heard, it's put much less pressure on your army, for now.
  
  On the downside, Galik and Grolik have managed to engage the Mannate Empire in some larger skirmishes than you would have liked.  Rolomag and the other more reliable orcs haven't been able to keep them in check as well as you had hoped. 
  
  As you ride on, one of the coastal villages comes into view.  The sun bearing down upon you, in the distance you see a number of orcs.  Some seem to be fishing with nets and spears, and some seem to be enjoying the sun.  A few unsurprisingly wrestle in circles made of seashells. 
  
  Several wooden boats float lazily among the waves.  One orc saunters over to you, his skin a much darker shade of green due to generations of living out here.  Yours is a much lighter shade of green.  The orc stops several feet away from you.
  
  "Who are you?"
  
  "Nolazir."
  
  His eyebrows arch and his eyes widen a bit.  A small grin spreads across his face. 
  
  "I have heard of you, fighting off the humans.  Making your rounds to many of the villages and tribes.  That is why you are here?"
  
  "Yes."
  
  The orc chuckles as he leads you toward the village.
  
  "I don't think we'll be able to help you, friend," he says.
  
  "All of us are at stake," you say.  "We need all the people we can get."
  
  "We're having our own issues.  We can't save everyone else when we can't even save ourselves."
  
  You grunt, scanning the area.  Nothing seems to be happening.
  
  "What's your name?" you ask.
  
  "Silak," he says, "I just do the fishing around here.  The chief is inside."
  
  He gestures into a small wooden hut.  You nod to him in thanks and step inside, the old wood steps creaking a bit.
  
  Half of the hut is dark, the rest illuminated by the sunlight entering between the wooden beams above.  Some tarp seems to be covering the rest of it.
  
  You stop short as a figure steps out of the shadows, an orc with several wrinkles on his face.  His raven dark hair contrasted by a multitude of grey hairs throughout.  His face turns up into a weary smile.  His dark green skin hiding him well, until he steps into the rays of light.
  
  "Welcome, friend," he says.  "I am Chief Hidius."
  
  "I am Nolazir."
  
  It