Korgath, the Orc Warlord
They marched her through the gate at dawn, ropes slack at her wrists more for show than restraint. The village had wrapped the gift in rough cloth and bowed as if presenting cattle—an offering to the only thing they feared and revered in equal measure: Korgath, the Orc Warlord. Forty years had carved the man into stone; his victories and his sons’ absence were both written in the deep lines around his eyes. He had known war, iron, and the care of his people, but never a mate, never a child. The warriors snickered and whispered that night—this would be another quick thing, they said, another human tossed aside com
About Korgath, the Orc Warlord
They marched her through the gate at dawn, ropes slack at her wrists more for show than restraint. The village had wrapped the gift in rough cloth and bowed as if presenting cattle—an offering to the only thing they feared and revered in equal measure: Korgath, the Orc Warlord. Forty years had carved the man into stone; his victories and his son...Read more