The War Chief was filled with far more fury than he felt months ago when he was forced to leave the forest.
He was almost boiling with anger, and due to might of his existence the area around him in the forest was feeling the pressure of it. The wood of the once flourishing trees around him splintered.
The ground beneath his feet cracked. Even the air itself seemed to shake under the pressure of his anger.
Yet despite all of that, the reality of the situation hadn’t changed.
A massive wound in his side plus various gashes across his back and chest.
The fox had proven itself a mighty foe and he wasn’t winning in the way he thought he would initially.
In fact, he had long since realized that while he would definitely be able to kill the fox, he would likely die from injuries right after or at best be too weak to defend himself from the retaliation from the Serpent.
A Serpent he realized had just finished the battle against the Rygern.
The situation had reached beyond his measure of control.
He pushed aside his pride and asked for help. The help needed to what he saw and even painfully acknowledged what was a truly cowardly plan.
A plan he thought was necessary.
Long had he wanted to expand into the Nameless Forest. It was filled with enough resources to spur not only his growth and the growth of his domain, but even the strength of the Orcs beneath him.
The War Chief was not a kind or merciful leader by any means, but what type of War Chief would he be if his war party was weak? The Nameless Forest would give them a whole new front to grow in power and stave off the stagnation that had reached them in recent years.
Until the war with Dalor, there was very little for them to hunt, no wars to fight, no blood to be shed.
And the younger Orcs were strong in body, but weak with experience and spirit. The vastness of the Nameless Forest would help to appease that.
Yet it would not be so.
For the Serpent would not allow it.
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It was the true reason the forest was called as such, because any who wished to name it had died under his might or were ran off in fear of being on the receiving end of it.
Thus the large, massive forest teeming with life and enough resources to be the backbone of a powerful nation was left without a name.
A name the War Chief wouldn’t get to change.
He looked across from it to the foe who he had underestimated.
The Fox.
A Flash Fang Fox.
One of its eyes were missing, and it’s from left shoulder to its hind leg on the same side there was a wound that would make even the steeliest of hearts run cold.
Yet the Fox didn’t waver in his steps and it was ready to fight to the death. In this forest, one does not rise in the Tiers without a significant bloodshed.
This wouldn’t be the first time the Fox had seemingly been on the last vestiges of his life.
Though he was smart enough to know that if this continued then this would be his last fight.
But he didn’t back down. There was at least one final attack enough to claim the life of the War Chief waiting in his body.
He would enact it the second the War Chief moved.
And move the War Chief did…
Though he did not move in the direction of the Fox. Nor did he move in the direction of the North towards the fleeing Goblins.
It wasn’t even towards the Serpent who was looking at him with its head raised high above the trees.
No…the War Chief moved towards the west.
He was retreating.
Once again, he the powerful, prideful, and fear inducing War Chief of the Iris River Plain Orcs… was retreating from a battle.
The Fox only watched for a moment before collapsing where it stood. Laying meekly on its side as it did the best it could to circulate the mana in its body to help heal itself.
Meanwhile the Serpent watched on for a second before its maw opened wide and a voice that seemed to stretch to every corner of the forest absolutely bellowed out.
“LISTEN AND HEAR ME WELL YOU FOOLISH ORC. I WILL ALLOW YOU TO LEAVE THIS DAY, BUT DO NOT TAKE THAT AS A SIGN THAT YOU WERE SPARED.
“NO…I WANT YOU TO COWER…I WANT YOU TO SQUIRM…I WANT YOU TO DREAD THE MOMENT I VISIT YOUR LITTLE RIVER.
“BECAUSE TRUST ME ORC. I AM COMING. I JORUM, THE DREAD SERPENT OF THE FORGOTTEN BLACK LAKE PROMISE YOU TODAY, THAT I AM COMING. AND WHEN I COME…THE PLAINS WILL BLEED FROM THE BLOOD OF ORCS.”
The voice of the Serpent was heard far and wide…there other beasts who lived in the deeper corners of the forest. Other beasts who weren’t far from the Tier of trio who fought here today.
All of them cowered in fear as the power that nestled into the words spoken by the Serpent reached them.
It was also heard even beyond the forest.
Deep within the mountains that bordered both the forest and the plains, a wizened old woman stirred behind her desk.
“Hmm… Another fool has angered the Serpent I see. They never learn do they. Decades have passed and no one has ever managed to topple the hold the Serpent held in the forest. Yet, they continue to try.
“…One of you come.”
A man dressed in sleek, ornate and refined black armor appeared in the quaint office.
He was kneeling with his head lowered.
“Monitor the situation in the Plains and the Forest. Ensure our people are not bothered.”
“As you wish.”
The man disappeared from the room, and the old woman calmly returned to focusing on the documents on her desk. A small twinkle of amusement in her eye as she thought of the Serpent and its recent actions.
