Even in age, Cra’Gal’s heart raised its beat whenever he felt the summit’s distant song. Hidden behind the Horizon and deep within the mountains it watched over the valley below. A crown of the earth that their Clan filled with song.

Many holes were inside, many of them as an entrance to the mountain and the great halls that their ancestors had carved in. Others were made by the Dragon millenia ago, as it made the mountain hollow, for them to be filled with the voices of Orc and wind again.

Even when he was a child and could still see with his own eyes he felt the awe of the mountain and like many in the clan he remembered the day of his first song clearly.

People had gathered in the great cave at the top. There was an entrance to all four ways of the winds and a big stone bridge in its centre. In the centre of the bridge was a big gong. Made from the mountains silver, gold and copper blood. And below the bridge and the gong was the big black hollow. The longest fall down to whatever was resting beneath the mountain. A giant pit of darkness and song. Many had their home caves around the pit on its long way down, so even those that did not take the walk to the top, could sing into the void, for their voices to echo to the rest of the clan and the mountain itself.

When there was reason to sing the clan gathered in the top hall, most that came there and did not stay in their caves were from down in the Valley. A Shaman then started to sing deep from his throat. Once he hit the gong the clan would sing with him and together their voices would travel through the hollow mountain and turn it into the Singing Summit. Their voices would travel all over and through the earth, with the wind and through caves they would reach all lands of their big clan. From the Frost Song Valley south of the mountain all the way to the last edge at the boiling Sea in the highest north.

When there was no song, it was still the wind that made a melody. It touched the chimes they had hung on all the cave entrances and made it clear that the mountain was watched by Father Sky and mother earth. Like the gong the chimes were made from the mountain's veins, while some very few were even made with the dragon's blessing. The same way a shaman's staff was made to cling and clang even louder. Leaders, in the song, and guides through the harsh snowy storms of their home.

When Cra’Gal heard the Chimes in the distance, it was the first day he did not feel awe or happiness, but fear. “We are almost there, Seer.” the rider he sat behind, told him. Cra’Gal slowly nodded “I know..”.

The man in front of him was Ur’Gak, the new Watcher of the Frost Song clan since the Darkling had become an exile. Old Cra’Gal knew it was an honour for him to fly the great Seer but he felt the constant fear in him. A man that knew he was not worth his title and that had to do right now that a chance was given.

“Then hold tight elder, we fly steep and fast now.” Before Cra’Gal could answer they already had taken their steep flight down. As they pierced through the wind the old Shaman knew how it would seem for the clan. Many had spoken against his Son, the Great Khan, and now a Swarm of riders was heading right for them. His only hope remained that no one thought this to be their moment of honour, to jump into battle or attempt to spear a Wyvern out of the Sky. There was still a chance things could go back to the old ways. To the clans to honour their Khan again, and for his Son to have a great future as brave Conqueror not a scheming snake seeking scrolls of tainted evil.

His hope was shattered as he felt a quick shift in the winds once they came close enough for spears. He sighed as he felt one flying right at the Riders. Ur’Gak turned the Wyvern quickly to avoid the hit. For but a moment he dared to hope, for an attempted attack could still be mended, but it was crushed as the swarm of riders passed them. Piercing steeper and faster through the sky and towards the caves.

Ur’Gak was about to reach for his horn but was stopped by the blind man behind him “This is your own clan, you fool!” Cra’Gal told him “Stop the others if you have to! I will not see the mountain burn by pure foolishness!”. The Watcher struggled for words until he simply nodded “Yes seer..”. They then quickly followed the rest of the riders down to the mountain. There was a big entrance carved just for them where most riders had landed. Screams and curses were filling the mountain instead of song and loudest of all between them the darklings barks were carried with the winds. Cra’Gal grunted with disgust “Once down, make sure that fool knows that he is not even a rider, let alone Watcher.” Ur’Gak was taken back by getting orders from the Elder instead of the Khan but was not one to argue. If anything, a reason to get at his former watcher was a chance to show strength.

The fact the watcher did not even attempt to argue only showed Cra’Gal his weakness and he knew well why his son had chosen a man like this. Mindless, loyal and strong. He was disgusted more and more, by both the thought of foolish unhonorable Orcs who simply followed Orders, and the fight that was about to break out at the mountain because of them.

Once they crashed down at the great stone platform weapon’s were already drawn and the Darklings Voice echoed through the hollow caves: “Who was it Chieftain?! Who threw that spear!”

Opposite of him an Orc with a long black greying beard showed his teeth. He wore a kilt of thick pelts while on his head he carried the horned white head of a yack that turned into the pelt on his back. On the Yaks head Shaman trinkets were hung, but their runes were different. Most of them were but simple pictures of hammer, axe, tusk and mountain instead of the old primal tongue. A big shaman chain was dangling between the yak’s horns yet only the Yak carried those trinkets for the man who wore it was no Shaman, but the Chieftain of the Frost Song. Nar’Ruuk the Ire.

He held a hand proudly on the big Mountain Horn on his belt as he snarled back “Aren’t you exiled Bru~” “You will not speak his name!” Cra’Gal interrupted him and climbed down from the Wyvern. Many riders, including the Watcher quickly came to his aid but he waved them away and slowly but determined walked to the Chieftain and the Darkling as if he could see. “None of you will Spoil blood this day!” His voice now echoed through the Mountain and over the Valley, as all listened to the Elder’s commands. “Whatever fool threw that thing may pray the ancestors forgive his foolishness! For I would not!” Whispers were the answers. Some from the riders at the big Platform, others from the caves inside the mountain. “We are all sons and daughters of the Valley! Orcs of the Dragons fire and flesh! I shall not allow that you spill each other’s blood when winter is so close!”. Cra’Gal took a few deep breaths before he took his blind hidden gaze to the Darkling “And you!...” he walked at him with eager and angry steps “Do not forget that you are lucky to even carry your head still, Exile!” Before the Darkling could answer Cra’Gal already had turned to Chieftain Nar’Ruuk “And we, Chieftain, need to talk.” After a short glance back to the Darkling the Chieftain made a slight bow and answered with his deep rasping voice “Of course, Elder.”

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Cra’gal grunted and turned to the Watcher “You.” he pointed his staff directly at him even though his hidden eyes faced to nothing “You will see that there is no bloodshed here. Do you understand?!” A hint of anger was seen in Ur’Gak’s face before he simply nodded “I shall keep watch…Elder..”.

“Finally some sense..” Cra’Gal mumbled and walked past the Chieftain and into the big mountain cave. It was wide enough for a few Wyverns to walk by each other, and high enough that up to three living caves were carved atop each other. Many of them had big holes to the great cave he walked through, adorned with their own chimes and trinkets, and all of them watching the turmoil the rider’s arrival had made that day. Families of smiths, hunters, herders and gatherers. The fact that so many were here meant that somebody had raised the alarm when the Riders came across the Horizon. Now they all looked down from their caves as the old Seer walked through the big mountain tunnel. And all of them felt the same thing. Fear.

Cra’Gal did not need eyes to feel it linger in the air. Things had gone too far and it was his duty to stop the rockfall his clan was having. Maybe if he could talk to his son again, maybe if he would see and feel the pain with his own eyes he would understand. But even Cra’Gal doubted that.

With a sigh he arrived at the great dark pit. They were quite far down so only a hint of light was seen all the endless way at the top, where the bridge and gong of the great wind hall were resting. Around the pit hundreds of family caves were lit with glowing Dragonstones. The most holy of all things the mountain granted them. They flickered like candles and gave warmth like a fire. By now most families called one, or two their own and handed it over the generations. Yet Cra’Gal could feel how many of them had become darker with time, and he knew better than anybody that even those new ones they found were weaker than before. Even though he could not see, he felt their fiery eyes on him, all watching from the dark. Waiting for what would happen to their clan now.

He felt in his feed how the Watcher and the Chieftain followed him, while most riders started to unpack their beasts.

Once the Chieftain arrived next to him Cra’Gal whispered to not have it echo through the pit “They fear the beasts and their riders, when they should welcome them home.”

Chieftain Nar’Ruuk sighed before he answered with a whisper himself “They know that one of them is already marked to die, of course they do.”

“Mara…” Cra’Gal whispered almost more to himself as guilt flooded him “Have you heard anything?”

The Chieftain looked at him with a raised brow just before the Watcher arrived next to them. “The riders will demand a head if there is nothing to change their mood.”

“It is not only them that will do so…” Cra’Gal whispered as melancholy made his voice even lower. Both the Chieftain and the Watcher stared at him, both with a mix of fear and anger at the Shamans honest words. “Listen to them..” he continued and shook his head.

As they did they could hear the hints of many whispers that echoed from the eyes in the shadows and through the mountain. All too low to understand but enough in number to fill the hollowed halls with the same fear and anger that laid in every whisper around it. The watcher turned his fiery gaze to the chieftain “Is there enough for a feast?”. Nar’Ruuk looked above his shoulder back to where the riders were handling the empty supply backs they had brought. “That depends on how much you will take..” he answered as his eyes returned to Watcher Ur’Gak.

Cra’gal grunted before he could answer “They can take from the south if need be, we need something grand to show them they are of the same clan again..”. The watcher was not happy about the Shaman answering before him and even less as the Chieftain could not help but smile at it for but a moment. “The exile will retake his name, and then riders and clan will feast together like in the days of his father..” Cra’Gal whispered and nodded.

Ur’gak folded his arms as he looked up towards the windhall “I am surprised you deem him worthy of that, Seer.”

“I do not. He is as much a fool as his father was” he said more loudly than he had planned as parts of his voice echoed. When he continued it was much lower again “But it will show them that the great Khan knows justice and that he has not forgotten his clan.”

Chieftain Nar’Ruuk looked down at the hunching old blind man “That would be good to see, I agree..”. Cra’Gal simply grunted deeply before he took a few deep breaths.

The watcher was about to say something as Cra’Gal suddenly stopped whispering and yelled into the echoing hall with open arms “Children of the mountain, wanderers of the valley, shorewalkers of the boiling north” he took a deep breath and continued even louder “Orcs of the Frost Song, do you hear me?!”. His voice echoed through the mountain and drowned the whispers. At first silence was the answer. The worst one he could have gotten until Chieftain Nar’Ruuk yelled into the darkness “We hear you Seer!!” it echoed, and soon more and more answered the same. Cra’gal nodded at the chieftain and then tipped the stone below him two times with his Obsidian staff. Its sound made a loud echoing “TING TING” that slowly made the clan go silent again. Cra’Gal took another deep breath before he yelled again “A son of the mountain, has lost his name, but shall take it again. Feast and song will be had, like in the days of summer’s end!” He hated to make the Darkling retake his honour this grand “Will you sing for your brother when the sun goes dark? Will you lend him your voice when the night grows black? And will you share drink and meat with him until the sun rises again?!” The clan's answer now was quicker than before as many from their family caves started to cheer at the promise of a feast, yet still there were some that remained silent.

One of them, far behind the three men at the pit, was the Darkling. His face was not happy but darkened with hidden anger, for he knew well that his name and honour was simply used to brighten the clan's mood. Still he remained silent.

For now.