Orc War Chief Novels & Stories

Then, he pushed the wheelchair before Morticia and said conceitedly, "Fiend Martyr, Your Excellency, I did not let you down." Morticia smiled in approval and nodded. "Good. You did a great job today. From now on, you'll be my Lieutenant General." "Thank you, Fiend Martyr, Your Excellency." Oliver was overjoyed and nodded his head, expressing his gratitude. He glanced around him and said to the fiend generals, "Quickly reorganize the Black Tortoise Warriors and continue our journey. We must find the White Tiger King and the other demons." "Yes," immediately, the fiend generals answered in unison and their voices shook the earth.

A few of the warriors around the table nod in agreement, murmurs of approval rippling through the room. Father snarls under his breath, his anger is palpable in the air. His jaw tightens as he glances at the warriors around the table, pride burning brighter than ever. And I realise, it's not just about strategy anymore—this is a battle of egos, of who holds the power. His eyes meet mine, and for a moment, it’s like he’s daring me to defy him. As the Alpha of the Oracle Pack, his word should be law, but it’s clear that he doesn’t understand. The younger warriors, these men, they know Nova.

“Calla is within her rights to use it. Unless you’re worried your claim can’t stand up to scrutiny if she has a say in the decision?” Moira’s words challenged Marcus directly, forcing him to either accept the new terms or appear afraid of giving me any control. “Fine,” Marcus said through clenched teeth. “I’ll name my champion. Viktor.” A massive werewolf stepped forward from Marcus’s group. I hadn’t noticed him before, but it was hard to miss him now. He was nearly seven feet tall, built like a tank, and covered in scars that showed he had seen a lot of fights. “Viktor is my chief enforcer,” Marcus said with pride. “He’s never lost a fight in over thirty years. Good luck finding someone who

How disgusting. "Your Highness!" One of the General Commander in my army called. He stabbed one of the werewolves on the opponents' side, making it howl loudly in pain. The blood splattered right through his face but he ignored it. "He might need some help!" His eyes flashed with worriedness as he stared at Nikolai from afar. "I have encountered Chief Olcan and I almost met my end! If things will drag on the Alpha might be put in great danger!" I turn my head only to see that annoying guy losing one of his arms.

"You've got to be fucking with me! A spy amongst his elders?! How the hell did you pull that mark?!" He smirked and answered. "Alpha Orvyn is but a child in the game of war. I was born into chaos, survived through the chaos to become the prime chaos. If a little pup thinks he has what it takes to defeat me, then he's fucking mistaking. I'm seven steps ahead of him in everything. He'll never see me coming." He looked as fearful as he sounded, commanding respect from us with his perfect oration. How the hell do you defeat a fucking god?

The leading rider stated “I strangely do not recognize you, but you're in the chief commander's amor. What happened to sir Lugar?” I asked “Pardon me for not introducing myself earlier, I am Wolfe, the chief commander of the king's army. And for sure Lugar, let's just say he retired early.” He said and chuckled. The situation was still confusing, but there wasn't time to waste. “I do not see your king, is he in his fancy room whilst your men risk their lives?” I asked mockingly.

The battle was not dying down, growing worse. “I cannot go into details,” the Oracle panted, gripping her staff with a shaking hand, the wood slick with the blood that trailed from her fingertips. “Already… my life drains away, so I will use what little remains to give you the names of the ones responsible. The mastermind who betrayed his own kind.” A loud bang! split the air, jolting everyone’s attention to the grand entrance. The thick doors shuddered. The iron drawbars groaned as they shifted under the impact.

There were plenty of dual-income families in our neighborhood, and with their kids in their senior year, most parents simply didn't have time to supervise them. So I cleared out my living room and turned it into a completely free evening study room. Every night from seven to ten, I helped the students with every subject and even provided them with a late-night snack. The parents in our group chat praised me constantly, calling me a saint. Then Kendra Hodge, a notoriously difficult mom, moved into Willow Creek. She showed up at my door and demanded that I clear everyone else out so I could tutor her son, Zeke, who hated studying, one-on-one. I politely refused. Her attitude changed on th

The heavy canvas flap of the command tent was violently thrown open, admitting a furious swirl of mountain snow and three hulking northern wolves. At the head of the trio was Commander Vorn, a scarred, nine-foot veteran whose grey fur bristled with undisguised contempt. He wore heavy iron plate armor, his hand resting aggressively on the pommel of his massive two-handed greatsword. Flanking him were his two chief lieutenants, their amber eyes blazing with the predatory, mutinous rage of warriors who realized they had been sold a phantom empire.

The giant accompanying him stopped, and made a sign for him to enter. He did, and his father followed, as did Thorne. The rest of the soldiers that did not stop at the gate had stood outside of the hut. What greeted him was a giant sitting on a strange chair made of bones. His metal and leather clothes indicated wealth, and strength. In front of him, an ice table held together, maybe even formed by strange magic that Alarick felt vibrating from it. There was also some sort of magic static in the air, and he could tell that the chieftain was hiding some kind of supernatural power. Being around Erriene for the past weeks had made him sharp enough to tell about it.