The chieftain of the town just beyond the horizon was pondering. Scheming and pondering. He had been amassing power for his town for all his life. Everything he had been doing building up to this integral moment. He was so near to the fulfilment of his decades long dream that he could almost taste the culmination of so much effort and hard-work. Soon all of the four villages will be under his thumb.

For years upon years now the chieftain of this town had worked feverishly to amass power for his tribe, changing it from the simple little collection of huts that his father, and his predecessors before him had passed down to him, and forging it into the bustling metropolis of ork culture that it was today.

Sure he had to step on a lot of toes to get here, but as they say, you’ve got to break a few backs to win at anything. He had to sacrifice so much to get him and his people to where they were today. So many good friends lost, so that he may stand where he is today, plotting and scheming. Knowing that it is his time to strike. For this to work he must first ingratiate himself to these simple little villages. this would be easy with the technology and abundance that his people were experiencing today.

Lull them into a restful ease, one that they will hopefully never come out of. After a while of this though, he would have to introduce the next step. Giving them the ultimatum. Join him and his people or perish. Assimilation or destruction. If they refused this, with their puffed up, backwards savage bravado, he’ll send a show of force. Something to let them know who they were dealing with. Of course though nothing too bad, since he wanted to still have them as vassals, and that can’t really happen if their dead. Whoever refuses after that though will be annihilated. Completely and utterly obliterated. Even if he needed vassals he had, and will have people enough to populate the wasted remains of whoever dares defy him. For defying him is like defying nature. A thing as totally impossible as breathing without air.

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

All of this conquest and madness, this bloodshed and heartbreak, this effort of years of blood sweat and tears so the when this chieftain leaves the land of the living behind him he also leaves behind an alliance. A steadfast mark of all that he has done to help ork-kind, bringing together the villages to make a union of different orks working together in harmony, so that they may advance in this together. This chieftain knew that his legacy would be left behind in one of two ways. Either, number one, as the great-uniter, the great alliance maker that created the first ever bond of many orks. A paragon of every virtue possible, a role-model, and a leader. Or, two, as a tale of the dangers of ambition. The madman, the tyrant, oh he, the one who brought upon all of the people a great strife and struggle.

The chieftain fully knows the consequences of his actions, knowing that even in defeat he would carry himself with dignity and pride, for he has seen both the eyes of the defeated and the victorious