The Dark Sire Issue 3 (Spring 2020) | Page 66

finally ceased, Rahsik held up his gnarled hands for silence. “It is the finding of this tribunal that Wank, the orc-that- is-mostly-human, has been committing crimes against this tribe since he was but a human brat. Therefore, I, Rahsik- ba, his chieftain, declare that there shall be a worg hunt.” All was silent as he lifted his whip, now wound around his hand, and pointed toward Wank. “You, Wank, shall be the boar.” A thunderous roar echoed through the cavern as joy lit the faces of orc-warriors who babbled about the ignoble death they were going to inflict upon their quarry. It was then Wank realized why he had been fed so well. Rahsik-ba stared up at Wank, while simultaneously trying to look down his nearly non-existent nose, the nostrils seeming as empty caverns, dank and filthy. His graying mane veritably bristled as the half-orc stared him down for long moments while his chains were removed. “Run for your life, boy,” he told Wank, then slowly turned away. The newly freed half-orc could not tell if his sire was snarling, laughing, or about to be sick. The half-orc walked slowly away at first, unsure that he would not be immediately speared in the back. Then he began a slow trot. His pace quickened somewhat 64