Chapter 23.2: Orc Summit

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The ground quaked as the orcs bellowed and roared out their pain and frustrations! Who knew how many thousands they had lost in the massacre!? The orcs converted the anguish buried within their souls into raging flames that could only be expressed in the loudest and most terrifying screams. The cries carried along the wind, and all the living beings for several miles were scared off by the intense bloodlust.

The rage-fueled roars continued for over ten minutes before the orcs until the orcs finally vented the anger and rage in their hearts.

Clack!

The orcs' attention were drawn to the center as Grimlock stabbed the jagged greatsword in his hand into the earth. The orc chieftain gazed at his people as he said, "Brothers, I feel your rage, your pain! To think someone would do such a heinous thing! We orcs are no heroes nor are we good, but we meet our enemies on the battlefield with honor and strength! We do not avoid the strong and attack the weak. Yet some bastard thought it proper to slaughter our women and children." Rage burned in Grimlock's eyes as his hands clenched around the sword hilt. "Brothers, what do we do when we find the bastard responsible!?"

"Kill them!" "Burn them!" "Tear them apart!" "Destroy them!"

"Kill!"

"Kill!"

"KILL!"

The orcs' chant shot across the city, the bloodlust infecting all the orcs in the city. The orcs' eyes reddened in rage regardless of their location as they joined in the chant. The bellows shook the roofs off all the buildings in the city, reaching all the way to the elven district. Within one of the buildings, Honne-Onna looked out at the raging city with a devilish grin. "Not enough. Cry out even more."

Within another building, an old dwarf stared at the Rink in his hands with shock and fear. "Are you serious!? No disrespect sir, but I don't think the orcs are in the mood to sit down and talk."

"We must try, regardless!" The voice in the Rink was strong and proud but held a hint of panic. "Otherwise, these lands will be covered with not just our blood, but thousands of our brothers and sisters too. We cannot let things reach that stage! Our lives are a small price to pay to secure the future of our race."

The dwarf shook his head but eventually gave a reluctant sigh. "As you wish, Farvulia-sama. I will see that it is done."

"You have my gratitude, Uthman-san," Farvulia thanked the dwarf. "I will soon set out. By Aygor's mercy, we'll get to the bottom of this before it gets too far."

"As the lord commands," Uthman acknowledged. The rink's light dimmed, signifying the end of the call, and the dwarf sullenly stowed it in his bag. Uthman Keggrog was a dwarven trader sent to trade with the elves and orcs by Rudega Farvulia, the dwarf most of the younger generation thought had the highest chances of claiming the dwarven king throne. At least, until the king in the east arose from nowhere.

Although Uthman appeared to be a simple trader, he had another task. To spy on the orcs and relay any odd behavior to Farvulia. The majority of dwarfs saw orcs as a primitive tribe not worth a mention. As far as they were concerned, there was only one thing you needed to know about orcs. And that was when they would attack. Since orcs had the inane habit of blowing on a horn before beginning any raid, dwarven settlements often had a chance to react and fortify themselves before any attack.

Rudega Farvulia, on the other hand, saw the orcs as both a potential ally and threat. He knew that the only reason the dwarfs were able to remain so complacent in this land was that the orcs were not a united nation. Usually, they only had to face one small tribe's attack a time, which was quite easy to fend off. The consequences would definitely be dire If they were forced to confront a united region. Hence, Rudega always ensured he had a spy in the important orcish cities to look out for any large gathering.

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