Chapter 241: At the gates (1/2)

Large wooden spiky walls, somewhat similar to the wooden piked fence that 'protected' the slave pen could be seen peeking out in the horizon.

On the small path leading towards the mountain orc's recently made new settlement, two silhouettes could be made out if you squint your eyes. Due to reaching the height of the night, the lighting was faint at best, but still much better than what you could normally expect. The clear starry night and the moon's reflection gave a somewhat mystical tone to the moment.

In front of a closed, large, wooden gate 4 orcs were standing guard. Similar to their counterparts 'guarding' the slave pen, they were all clearly not your average warriors of the tribe, but the elites, the real deal, the strongest of them all.

They stood in pairs on both sides of the gate with their long halberds that were albeit still crude, but much better in terms of craftsmanship than the ones on the average warriors. They all had similar attire, a black, studded mail chest, that covered their entire torso along with their thick arms, all the way down to their hands upon which they wore spiked, mail gauntlets. Below the dark brown belt, they had mail legplates ending it with similarly colored, black sabatons covering that large feet.

Completing their set their faces and to top it all off, their heads were covered with a mail sallet. Only their slightly reddish, tinted irises could be seen eerily gazing at the distance from the shadows.

All in all, contrary to what one would expect from these beings, they all wore a set of full-body armor, protecting them. Even their weapons, which normally should be a large, hastily made battle axe, or a simple pike, was something much better made.

You could still see the crude, orcish motifs on the weapon, but compared to the others, they were leagues above the rest: clean, sturdy, thick wooden handle, their heads were much better crafted, almost carefully designed, with a long, sharp blade on one side, a blunt, metallic end on the other side, and a thick, long spike at the top.

They were also much better disciplined than their lesser peers, they stood in silence, gazing at the distance. There were no words exchanged, they were all trained to focus on the job they were given, no matter what it would be.

This night started just like all the others. There was no unusual activity outside, and besides the usual predatory howls and roars coming from far away, marking the start of yet another nightly prowl of a beast, the night seemed to be just as boring as the rest before.

However, this peaceful prediction came to an abrupt end when suddenly two dark silhouettes appeared on the horizon, coming from the path that was guarded by the exiled ex-leader, the nameless dark shaman.

Refreshing their grip on the handle of their weapons, all four guards raised their attention to the slowly approaching figures. They seemed to be coming at a steady, slow pace, deliberately letting themselves be spotted.

Just before their figures would arrive at a close-enough distance to reveal themselves, they halted their steps. The leaner looking figure seemed to simply wave his right hand, casually pointing towards the guards, upon which, the muscular, robust body gave a slight bow and continued on its trek forward, solo.

A few steps later, as he walked closer, the mystical glow of the night sky revealed its figure to being a youthful looking, yet somehow familiar orc. He looked mostly like your average warrior of the tribe, with the exception of being much more robust, muscular. Also, his skin was unblemished which was weird for a warrior of this stature, and he looked incredibly vibrant, healthy. Black, shiny hair was made into a ponytail at the back of his head reaching his shoulder-level, telling tales of that this warrior was not your average one, but someone with great power residing inside them.

Seeing him more clearly, the guards all became wary of this individual, not taking the situation lightly anymore.

Halting his treks only a couple steps away from the guards, the seemingly unarmed robust warrior cupped his fists as he looked at the foremost guard of the four. Opening his mouth, a hoarse, yet powerful, thundering voice came out of his throat.

”[Orc] Open the gate, my great lord, the true leader of all orcs and goblins have arrived! Failure to do so will result in immediate punishment!” His tone was commanding, fierce, threatening, the figure looked coldly at the guards, giving just enough push to make the situation turn real and that the guards couldn't take it as a joke. Despite being unarmed, this robust warrior oozed confidence with just his mere presence.

A confidence that was vaguely familiar to all four of these guards, yet they couldn't place it anywhere.