Goblins raced to feed logs to the hungry fires that lit the huge camp. Orc warriors danced around the fires, hurling axes at each other and catching them, to the crowd’s delight. Every now and then a catch was missed, and someone lost an eye or a head. Also, to the crowd’s delight.

Un-married females watched the preening warriors and talked among themselves. Size of biceps, number of kills last season, and capacity to keep a woman satisfied were all scored and tabulated. And of course, there was endless debate about what counted the most. Usually, it was the physical attributes that won out, but there was hot debate this season and a new trend developing.

A new warrior to the tribe had made impressive strides in gaining the respect of many of the other warriors, and his number of victories in the challenge ring was startling. The male warriors thought of it as "fate". The females thought otherwise. This prodigy spent more time listening to others, rather than talking of his own exploits. He noted who was skilled with weapons, who had an old war injury, who was fast, and who had a glass jaw. In the challenge ring he was quick to take advantage.

And he could drink. Drink long into the night and yet still be able to hold his own when later he retired to a hut for another type of battle. None other than the Great Chiefs daughter had laid a first claim to him, recognizing the traits that would make a good husband after he was trained. So, cunning and stamina were in this season. Some of the older women noticed, and nodded their heads. It was an interesting experiment. They'd have to watch as the next batch of pups grew up.

A blood curdling scream echoed into the night, and once again, many of the tribe glance at the large lodge at the south end of the camp. This was the lodge of Gruftcha Stonedotter. Made of huge logs sunk deep in the earth, with a roof of hides, it's walls were carved with nearly as many victory tales as the Chief's own lodge. Those walls shook now and then as a heavy body was thrown against them. Angry shouts, growls, cries of pain, and screams of the tortured could be heard at times. The Great Chief's daughter was training her new mate, and he was obviously putting up a bit of a fight. It had been all of a day, and still the sounds of fighting and the screams of pain came from the lodge. Many of the older males laughed and shook their heads. He'd learn. It didn't sound like he had many screams left.

Great Chief Stonechewer sat alone in his huge lodge. It had been stripped of most of the belongings to make room for the coming fight. He sat in his thrown of carved ivory tusks and thought of how lucky he was to have such a powerful offspring. And how doomed he was. Even in his prime he didn't think he could take her. He was wiser now. The best tactician the tribes had seen in a generation. Many human armies had fallen when he commanded the tribes. But that would not matter tonight. Tonight, would be a fight to the death. Young vs. Old. The victor would lead the tribe. It had always been so.

But hell, usually not when the pup was only 19! He thought he'd have more time. She had grown up so fast! It seemed like only last season that he was teaching her to sharpen her axe. Tonight, she was teaching her chosen male a lesson in obedience. Having chosen a mate, she would then come to challenge him for his position.

The shamans whispered to each other behind him, tending the sacred brew. An ancient recipe that supposedly would give the new chief the blessing of the gods. Stonechewer had his doubts. It mostly made his skin tingle and his teeth ache. But again, it was traditional.

One last scream rose into the night, before cutting off, and silence came from the other lodge. The revelers deserted the center of camp as a lone figure walked confidently to the chief’s lodge with axe in hand.

Great Chief Stonechewer growled and rose to greet his challenger. "So be it, daughter, let our fight be one for the shamans to speak of for years. Kill me, or surely, I will kill you!"

DarkDeath54 stepped into the lodge and leaned his axe up against the wall.

"Sorry Chief, she's catching up on some sleep. Been a long day. You got anything to drink in here? Got a terrible thirst and we're out of Blud"

Stonechewer was shocked! That the human was a mighty warrior he had known. But for him to have beaten Gruftcha was beyond thought. Yet he was here, and challenging. "Very well, Darkest Death, we shall battle."

DarkDeath54 shook his head. "Nope. Not going to fight you Chief, not unless you need some sense knocked into you. Grab a seat and let’s talk this out."

The chief shook his head. "There is nothing to talk of. Only fighting. This is our way."

"Yeah, and your way sucks goblin farts. I had to beat the crap out of Gruftcha this morning when she explained things. That's stupid. Why should the tribe trade away their craftiest war leader in exchange for either an un-trusted pink-skin or a hot-headed girl who's somewhere between a berserker and a princess? We've got lots of idiots like me and her that can swing an axe. But you're the one that will make the plan work."

"Plan? And what is this plan?" The Great Chief had been thrown off balance by this 'not fight' strategy, but he loved hearing about a great plan.

DarkDeath54 walked over to the cauldron and kicked the shaman's out of the way. He took the ceremonial mug made from an ogre's skull and scooped up a tankard full of the sacred brew. Taking a long swig, he started explaining. "We've got a couple of hundred warriors in the tribe. But there must be at least 20 other tribes just in the nearby mountain valleys. Not to mention thousands of goblins. I say we start by gathering all of them up, even the goblins. Then we start with taking out Fort Tumbull down on the river, and then rampage through the half dozen towns it guards."

Stonechewer considered. "Ambitious. But I’ve done it three times. Once we run out of towns, the tribes lose focus and the human armies come down from the capitol, across the north pass, and hit us while we squabble. I've been there, son, still have the T-shirts and the scars."

DarkDeath54 finished the mug and started on another. "Yep, that sums it up. So first of all, we make sure their armies don't make it over the pass. Next, we give the lads something to focus on, like more towns. We move the army south fast, and hit the towns south of the falls. That's where the plains tribes will join up and we keep expanding the raids and pick up more tribes. And we don't stop."

"But to have that happen, we need you. Only Great Chief Stonechewer can hold the tribes together and help me plan the war. Gruftcha takes over as War Leader and manages the battles. She's as subtle as a bone saw and slippery as an eel. She'll do fine once we point her at the enemy. And I'll stay next to her and keep her focused. This can work."

The Great Chief shrugged and got his own mug. If Darkest Death was drinking this foul-tasting stuff, he'd at least join him for one. He actually liked the human beer that Darkest Death brought to the tribe much better. "And you have convinced my daughter of this?"

"Ha, yeah, it took a bit. She nearly killed me. Took a lot to finally put her down. But after our little scrap this morning she's on board with the plan."

Stonechewer's eyes narrowed. "This morning? Then what the hell has been going on all day?"

Darkdeath54 actually looked a bit embarrassed. "Well, ah, after we get into a fight, she likes to make up for a bit. We sort of got carried away and broke all the furniture, and maybe a couple of walls. Sorry about the noise. She's a screamer that one, especially when she...."

The Chief held up his hands. "Don't need the details. Please, spare an old orc the tale of how you seduced his poor innocent daughter." Even the shamans laughed at that one.

"You got it, Grandpa."

"Grandpa?!"

Leaning back and drinking down the last of the sacred brew, Darkdeath54 smirked a bit as he passed on a message from his new wife. "Yeah, Gruftcha told me to mention to you that she's pregnant. One on the way already. Come spring you can help babysit."

Now it was the Chiefs turn to laugh hard. "Oh really, "one on the way’? You have a lot more to learn about being an orc. Our women never have less than three pups at a time. Sometimes six. We need that many. I remember fondly how Gruftcha ate one of her brothers when she was three and the other two decided to become shamans! "

The mighty warrior, Darkest Death, looked a bit pale. "Six? Oh shit, I need another drink."