“Dragons are too big to truly die, Gregory." Wrut stepped in; sensing

Nullik was probably not quite the orc to explain the matter.

“When they passed from this world, their bodies sank into the earth and their minds fell to darkness, but their souls endured. Dragon souls wield unimaginably powerful magic. If such magic was released when they passed then it could raze a mountain into a crater. Rather than allow that, Dal Gahlla let its soul seep back into the land. Our land. The connection between the dragon's soul and our people allowed the first shaman's to learn how to weave their magic from the land. Even in death, Dal Gahlla continues to offer aid to the orcs.

The ritual to forge a new war pack involves the last of the ashes made in the wake of the great dragon's fiery breath. They are magically volatile, and react with normal flame to create new fire."

Gregory found this particularly alarming since the room was filled with flaming torches and he still carried an apparently highly-flammable mark on his brow. He simply took a deep breath rather than attempt to wipe it away. The act of wiping away such a mark seemed somehow disgraceful, not to mention that he'd worked exceptionally hard to get the damn thing in the first place. Even if it could apparently blow a hole in his forehead. Instead he concentrated on Wrut's words as the older orc continued his explanation.

“The brightness of the fire is said to be a mark for just how much the spirit of our oldest friend approves of the new war pack. I'd say from our display that the old dragon is pleased with us, eh?" Wrut looked around with a warm smile as the other pack members nodded their agreement.

ALL except for Algra, who merely grunted acknowledgement.

“Or maybe Borika simply Liked our alpha so much that she mixed a more explosive powder in with the ashes to show her approval," she said.

“Sceptic." Wrut grunted out the word, but seemed slightly amused by

Algra's theory, as if he wouldn't quite put it past the shaman to do such a thing.

“Either way, it's a damn good start to the legend of the Dragons. And look! Beer!" Nullik clapped his hands as another orc warrior brought a large serving tray filled with fresh tankards for them.

As the rest of his pack started swiping up those tankards, Gregory looked at the orc who had brought them. The big male wore armour and carried a number of battle scars so he doubted very much that his job was to wait tables that night. No, this was an actual gesture of respect from a veteran warrior. The orc watched Gregory closely, and the human responded by taking up his own cup and raising it to the orc in thanks. That was apparently all that was required for the moment, though as his pack began to speak of other matters he watched the veteran walk away.

The orc had a slight limp, and his armour had clear evidence of being damaged and repaired many times. Scars that began at his neck and crept up along his jaw also plunged down over his arm in thick lines. What had at first glance appeared as a simple hairstyle that involved the side of his head being shaved actually proved to be a long burn mark that ran along the side of his skull and disappeared down the back of his armour.

Gregory watched the old orc disappear and wondered if that might be what he'd look Like soon enough if he stayed on Arolius. His fingers absently ran across the top of the thin scar on his chest, which would have likely looked much worse was it not for Valise's expert care.

Taking a deep drink, he wondered what parts of him might get lopped off, scared or burned in the future. He was alpha of a war pack now, and expected to lead them into battle. The full weight of that hadn't quite settled on him until then. The future wasn't certain by any means, but it seemed that war lingered there, actual bloody and terrible war.

“Hey, alpha?" Nullik yelled, interrupting the human's grim chain of thought.

Nullik yelling at him wasn't a new experience, but it did make him realise that the last of the proving ceremonies were now over and all the new war packs had been forged. The crowd in the hall had begun to talk again and welcome their newly proven members with tokens of drink and food. Gregory turned to his friends and felt a slightly feigned smile on his mouth as his mind held the ghosts of dark thoughts.

"Yeah?" he said.

“Sing us a song from your homeland!”

“Yeah, that's not going to happen.” Gregory shook his head at Nullik's cheerful demand and took a heavy gulp of beer