“Shit. Alright, have you got any ideas for how to deal with them?"

“Hey, do you expect me to deal with everything around here? You're the bossman. Do your bossman stuff and figure it out.”

"Thanks." He rolled his eyes, then set a grateful kiss atop her head for all the work she had done for him. "Dregolf? You mind me asking for some backup here?"

“It would be an honour, Gregory." The big orc bowed his head respectfully and followed in step as they approached the remnants of

The Berserkers.

They did not look happy to be there at all. A few cuts and bruises from their resounding defeat the previous day still served as reminders that the approaching human was not to be underestimated. Their moods thankfully seemed to be grim, as opposed to mutinous, although when

Gregory came to a halt in front of them they offered him little in the way of acknowledgement.

“Who will speak for you all?" Gregory ignored the Lack of respect shown to him as their new master, and carried on in a brutally businesslike fashion.

He was met with silence, and a few of The Berserkers looked between each other as if uncertain how to proceed.

"I swear to The First that if I have to ask again you'll all be spending the rest of the day mucking out the shit pits." He maintained his indifferent and crisp delivery of the words.

"I will speak."

The orc who had stepped forward was female, and like most of her pack she was at least a foot taller than Gregory. He didn't seem to care about the size difference as he approached her and looked her in the eyes.

"Good. What is your name?"

“Ishka." She evidently found the taste of her own name slightly foul as she spoke, though the distasteful expression on her features was Likely more to do with the fact that the human had no idea who she was.

He paused for a moment to intentionally keep her on edge, along with the rest of them. Although up close, when she wasn't bellowing out an enraged war cry, Ishka was quite a pleasant sight to hold on to his attention. In another world, he might have said that she had something of a Viking about her. The great height combined with the unusually un-orcish golden hair that was intricately braided atop her head served to give her a slightly Nordic appearance. It was only the Light green skin and tusks that put a dampener on any renditions of The Ride of the

Valkyries that might have been played in her honour.

Like most orcs, she possessed an extremely fit and athletic physique that was a little more muscular than he was perhaps familiar with.

Though it certainly didn't come at any cost to her feminine features, as plentiful breasts were prominent and covered in a small leather tank top. Her hips flared out from her waistline in a pleasant hourglass figure.

“Alright then, Ishka. Do I have your word of honour that you'll do no harm to me or mine in any way if I have them take those chains off?"

The Berserkers clearly didn't expect that offer, and Ishka looked down at the shackles on her wrists for a few long moments before finally nodding her assent.