"Take it from the warchief then." Rolk continued to nurse his sore throat with his hand.

“Take it? From Grolfir? By the First, boy, your head might as well have been made of rock for all it's worth. The Warchief is protected from all magic by the compact. Even mine. At Least not without showing too much too soon. And I was too eager in my interest of the ring to simply steal it. Grolfir would know it was me." Wren let out a derisive Little laugh.

“I thought that all the shamans within the encampment would have been trampling over each other for a mere glimpse at such a thing, but no. Instead, they were afraid. Afraid!" He spat on the earth with contempt for his kinsmen. "I was the only one to stake a claim on it, and I was refused. But it is of no matter. Soon such obstacles and annoyances will be mere memories. By the end of the next cycle, all humans will be our slaves, never to be anything more for all time. You will still need to deal with the human wretch, of course. He risks being proven before the time is right, and I'll not have such scum claiming kinship with me.”

“He will have to fight in the final proving. He will have to fight my pack again, and when he does I will see to it that he doesn't leave the pit alive." Rolk clenched his hands into fists and growled that promise with unrestrained fury.

"See to it that he does not. Oh, and if you step out of line again until the moment you are proven I will personally see to it that you spend the rest of your short Life struggling for air in the waste pits. Do you understand me, boy?"

Rolk tried to stop himself from snarling at his father, and failed spectacularly. For a moment, Talina thought he might be about to poop himself with such a strain displayed on his features.

"I understand, father."

With that, he turned and Lumbered back out through the forest toward the camp.

Up in her tree, Talina grinned before awaiting a breeze to rustle the leaves around her so that she could disappear into the darkness of the jungle unheard.

By the time Gregory stumbled out of his tent the next morning the sun had already risen fairly high into the clear, blue sky. The Light dazzled his eyes at first, for though he hadn't imbibed nearly as much ale as most of his friends, he certainly had slept like the dead after the previous day's exertions.

The camp itself was unusually quiet for that time of day, with the notable exception of the snoring. He saw most of the Runts were still asleep around the burnt out fire, and two slaves were doing their best to work around them. Quite a few of the humans had joined in the previous day's fun too, and many of the slaves were certainly in no position to begin their daily duties.

He smiled at the sight of them, and realised that he too was nursing his own unique sort of hangover. A pleasantly sore cock was standing in for the usual pounding headache. The mild ache had certainly been worth the good time he'd had in acquiring it. He wasn't quite so sure his pack mates would agree that their fun had quite been worth how bad their heads were going to feel when they finally awoke.

Not wishing to be the one to wake them, he quietly made his way over to the remains of the roasted boar from the previous night and stocked up a plate with meat and the fruits offered beside it.

“Interesting night," a familiar voice observed from his side.

Gregory smiled, not needing to turn and verify the owner of Emmet's gravelly voice.

“That it was. I take it organising all this was your doing?” Gregory plucked up a slice of boar meat and dropped it into his mouth. He didn't know what herbs or roasting juices they had prepared the thing with but it was damned delicious.

“Aye, well myself and your lady, Janette. She asked about it a while back, and it was no trouble really. Besides, everyone needed to relax a bit, and the excuse for a party was a bloody well earned one if I may say."

"You were there yesterday?" Gregory turned to look at Emmet and saw the old man struggling to cut off some meat. His hands seemed to tremble a Little too much when he stretched his arm out.

“I was. Quite a few of us were there, actually. They don't let humans in, unless they're accompanied by an orc. But we asked and Grolfir let some of us sit beneath the viewing balcony in the prison cells. 0h, thank you." Emmet stepped back with a Little hint of surprise crossing his expression when Gregory set his own plate down and moved to take the carving knife from him. He sliced off the meat from where Emmet had been scratching at it, and filled up a plate for him.

“Prison cells?" Gregory pressed.

"Oh we weren't real prisoners or nothin'. The cells are for orc criminals who are waiting for a judgment in battle. But there's a viewing slit along the wall the cells are backed onto and since they had space for us we was allowed to go watch from there. Very good of Grolfir, if I may say." Emmet took the plate for himself once Gregory had finished cutting the meat for him and then turned to pick his own fruit.

"You know, one day I'm going to have to sit down with you and hear the story about why humans and orcs don't seem to get along too well.”

Emmet let out a humourless laugh at that. "Ha! Be sure to set aside a few dozen hours for it if you want to hear the whole tale."

“I will. Thanks for all this, Emmet. And thanks for the support."

“Any time, young Lad. Any time." Emmet Lifted his hand to give Gregory a dismissive Little wave with a content smile before going back to pick berries from a branch.