Mordak Tribe
Once the black iron gates leading into the Mordak tribe opened, Ambrose almost stopped on his tracks.
Stone buildings stretched across the valley beyond the walls, their slanted roofs carved from dark slate while enormous timber beams reinforced structures clearly built to withstand creatures far larger than humans.
Broad streets wound between homes, smithies and workshops where towering furnaces still glowed, their chimneys breathing slow columns of black smoke into the sky.
It wasn't a military encampment.
It was a city.
Orc children peeked cautiously from behind doorways, then anxious mothers hurried them back inside. Elderly orcs leaned heavily upon walking staffs, their weathered eyes widening as Beherath passed.
Somewhere deeper within the settlement, the rhythmic clang of hammer against steel continued without pause, while massive beasts Ambrose didn't recognise lazily pulled wagons loaded with ore through the streets.
