Nagrak’s frustration twisted his gaunt face as he struggled to elbow his way past the larger warriors who closed in right behind Gorak. Their broad, scarred backs had formed an impenetrable wall that he could not breach. They did not spare him a glance. They knew him for what he was — a harmless nuisance, an insect buzzing in their midst. Nagrak’s antics were infamous, but they went largely ignored, for Gorak had made it clear that no harm should come to the runt. As long as krag’s decree of protection shielded him, the horde let him run free and endured his presence with silent contempt. And so, like a shadow clinging to the base of a mountain, Nagrak trailed after Gorak, blissfully ignorant of just how far out of reach his ambitions truly were.
In contrast, Gorak, looking down from the metaphorical mountain peak, was acutely aware of Nagrak’s delusions. He had made the disturbing experience that the runt did not grasp hierarchies, a dangerous flaw in an ork. Unlike the others, Nagrak never knew when to be afraid, when to show submission, or when to stand down. His irritating persistence had only worsened since the orichs had taken an interest in him, and Gorak found it increasingly difficult to tolerate the runt’s presence.
It had been over seven moon cycles ago when Gorak had first resolved to kill Nagrak, determined to offer him as a sacrifice to the Wronging Rock. But when he had voiced his intention to the orichs, they had stayed his hand, sensing some potential in the scrawny youngling. They had requested nine full cycles to straighten him out, promising to put the runt in his place and perhaps uncover the potential they believed was hidden within him.
Gorak had agreed to leave him unharmed for the duration of the orichs’ efforts. But as the cycles passed, he saw no sign of the presumed potential the orichs claimed to see. His patience, once as solid as the frozen peaks of the Albweiss Mountains, was beginning to thaw like the wandering ice sheets of Taltarag Spring, steadily giving way to the rising tide of his frustration.
Pages: