Xhosa was in a good mood.
Right now, he was gnawing on a roasted leg of lamb that was sizzling with oil. His excited subordinates were sharing the fat and tender lamb on top of the bonfire. They were in a good mood, and there were even some orcs who sang a rough song loudly, drawing cheers from the crowd.
Plundering, reaping without sowing, killing, and bloodshed. These words were like stimulants to the Orcs. Not only did they not make them feel any guilt, but they also completely stimulated the cruelty and tyranny in their bones. Just like at this moment, after completely massacring the Cree Village, what the orcs wanted to do the most was to gather around the bonfire and eat and drink to their heart's content. At the same time, they would sing praises to their ancestors about their "merits" today to prove that they did not embarrass their ancestors who once slaughtered humans.
"Cheers! For Lord Sarota! "
Shouting slogans, the Orcs raised wine glasses made of bone and drank the wine they plundered from the Cree Village.
To the Orcs, "wine" was something they had never tasted before. Although they found it unpleasant, everything that humans used and ate was always "high-end, grand, and classy" in their eyes. So even if they did not like it, they still forced themselves to swallow it. In their hearts, they were thinking about how to brag about this experience to the other Orcs when they returned to the tribe.
The barren spirit and culture made their inner world always so desolate. Even the so-called "vanity" became so laughable.
The purpose of the plundering was not to bring any resources for the tribe. In the end, the main purpose of their appearance here was to kill and intimidate.
They did not bring any supplies. They slaughtered a village and emptied the resources of the village. When they had the strength, they would slaughter the next village, making the humans tremble, tremble, and fear under such actions … As for the possible resistance of the humans, they completely ignored it.
In the eyes of Xhosa and the other Orcs, unless there was a large-scale lord's army surrounding and suppressing them, the cowardly humans could only tremble in front of them. Just like the scouts they met today, they were just a group of scum without any combat power. They were not worth mentioning at all.
"Xhosa! Where are we going tomorrow? "
Other than the witch doctor and the chief, who had to use honorifics, the Orcs would always call each other by their names. At this moment, the subordinates in front of the bonfire asked Xhosa loudly. The group of Wolf Riders beside him, whose mouths were dripping with oil, also looked over with expectant eyes.
"Lord Sarota wants us to build a stronghold here and then attack towards the southeast. Take a good rest today and head towards the south tomorrow. We'll massacre every village we see! Whatever you can snatch will belong to you! "
"Hooray! For the Hammer of Lohar! Cheers! "
"Kill all humans! Cheers! "
Cheers rang out in the camp.
This scene lasted for a long time. After stuffing themselves with food for a few hours, the Orcs who had drunk all the wine staggered back to their tents. Kesa was a great drinker, but he was still sober at this time. He walked back to the tent with light steps, and when he lifted the curtain, he did not forget to tell his men about the patrol.
"Go. Go take care of the warg. Don't feed it too much meat. Pay attention to … be on alert. Double the patrols at night. Do you hear me? "
Although he said he wanted to kill those humans, in reality, Kesa still had a trace of fear in his heart. Although the wound on his back that originated from a human's sword had almost healed, the shadow that came with it still lingered. As a result, when night fell, he paid particular attention to the issue of the patrols.
After emphasizing it several times and making sure that his men understood, he waved his hand and entered the tent, falling asleep.
The Orc who was assigned a task yawned, and in a daze, he woke up a few of his companions to guard the night, while he prepared to feed the warg. The sky was already completely dark. With the light from the bonfire, he squinted his eyes to identify the scene in front of him, and walked unsteadily towards the edge of the camp.
More than forty warg were napping at the periphery of the camp. This was a major feature of the Orc camp. If there was no stable, the warg would gather outside the camp. This was because the warg, which had the habit of living in groups, could only sleep peacefully in such a situation and quickly recover their strength.
These warg were huge. To outsiders, they only felt that they were as fierce as tigers, but only the Orcs themselves knew. The temperament of the warg was completely different from what others imagined.
"Wolves" were originally a rebellious species, and were actually extremely difficult to tame. In the grasslands, wolves were often cruel, cunning, and aggressive existences. But the warg was far from that. The Orcs were too heavy, and the grassland ponies could not carry them. Therefore, hundreds of years later, the originally violent "warg" had been bred through crossbreeding to what they were today: they ate meat, but had a gentle temperament and extremely low intelligence. They had fangs in their mouths, but they did not take the initiative to hunt. On the battlefield, the warg seemed to be brave and fierce, and they were not even afraid to directly hit the enemy. In fact, it was completely because their brains were too stupid to obey orders other than those of their masters. In order to cultivate their sense of obedience, the Wolf Riders constantly suppressed their desire to attack from childhood. So when they reached adulthood, apart from eating meat, their temperament was not much different from cattle and sheep.
In the history of the other side of time and space, this information was gradually summarized by humans two years after the outbreak of the 592 war. And before that, no one would have thought that the warg was actually not much different from sheep, or even worse than a fierce dog.
In fact, if one thought about it carefully, they would have already found some clues. If the warg could bark like a dog or a wolf at the slightest movement, why would the Orcs, who were almost blind at night, need so many people to keep watch at night? Perhaps they would have already gone to sleep peacefully.
So it was said that the "asymmetry" of information could to a large extent affect a war. Sometimes a situation that seemed to have a great disparity would often be completely rewritten because of such an inconspicuous detail.
It was about 11 o 'clock at night, and the Orc camp gradually quieted down. The Orc who had woken up his companions to keep watch walked on the edge of the camp, swaying and humming an out-of-tune song. He held a scimitar in one hand, and dragged an unknown object in the other.
If one looked closer, they would find that the object in his hand was actually half a human corpse.
Because the warg was carnivorous, the cost of the "Wolf Riders" was much higher than the Light Cavalry. Feeding these warg every day was a huge expense. Obviously, what the Orc wanted to do at this time was to use human corpses to feed the warg.
It sounded cruel, but the Orc felt that it was perfectly normal.
He walked to the front of more than 40 warg lying on the ground, waved his scimitar without raising his head, and began to dismember the corpses. After that, he threw the minced meat into the gathered warg pile. The slow-witted warg began to fight for the food. Because of their long-term training, they did not approach the Orc who was feeding them. If they could not get the food, they would just wait there.
This kind of thing had to be done every day. The Orc who was dismembering the corpses felt that he could continue with it even if he closed his eyes. But just as he yawned again and wanted to go back to sleep as soon as possible, he suddenly heard undisguised footsteps.
"Hey, do you need help?"
The question in the standard Sabine language immediately dispelled the doubts that had just arisen in his heart. Obviously, he did not expect to see a human in this place.
He turned his head, but he could not see the figure of the person clearly in the dark. But he naturally thought that the person who spoke was his companion, so he casually replied, "No need, no need. Xhosa asked me to feed the wolves. Ugh — I have to do it myself. "
He burped and opened his mouth, as if he wanted to greet and ask who the other person was. But he did not expect to hear a slightly cold answer from the other person.
"Feed the wolves? Oh, you really have to feed the wolves. "
"Puff —"
The sound of the blade cutting through the air was almost undetectable. When the head flew into the sky, blood splattered on the grass, and then the headless body fell to the ground. But when this happened, the warg that was busy fighting for food did not even raise their heads.
Roddy raised his head, and his eyes stopped for a moment on the half of the human corpse beside him. His eyes narrowed, and the hand that was holding the scimitar slightly tightened. He bent down and gently exhaled, as if he wanted to reach out and touch the corpse, but in the end, he stopped. He turned his head, stretched out his hand, and dragged the headless body of the Orc away step by step.
His steps were very calm, as if the more than forty warg beside him were just a group of pigs fighting for food, and the corpse in his hand was just a bag of rice.
Every ten meters or so, he would stop and raise his scimitar to cut off a certain part of the Orc's body, such as an arm or a calf, and throw it behind him. He led the warg that only cared about eating meat to follow him, and gradually moved away from the snoring Orc camp.
"Little sloppy, really sloppy, he is the sloppy king, everyone calls him little sloppy …"
The grassland was filled with a song that was completely different from that of the Orc just now. The dark night seemed strange and empty.
After walking for nearly a hundred meters, the Orc that he was dragging in his hand was basically only a piece of flesh that could not be seen.
Is it disgusting? Disgusting.
Before this, Roddy had never thought that he would be able to do such a thing in reality. It would be a lie to say that he was not disgusted … But when he thought of the half of the Orc's body that was used to feed the wolves, the anger in his heart made him forcibly suppress this disgust.
Roddy was very angry.
There was a saying that "anger" was essentially anger at one's own incompetence. Right now, Roddy could only admit that he was really like this.
The tragedy of the Cree Village could be traced back to his own actions. He had clearly thought of this possibility, but because of some wishful thinking, he did not expect it to really happen. To outsiders, this seemed to have nothing to do with Roddy. But at this time, Roddy's remorse and self-blame were probably not noticed or understood by Ruger and Carter.
The result of being angry was anger, and then finding ways to vent it. But when the scimitar cut the Orc's body again and again, Roddy clearly understood that even if he killed all the Orcs this time, the villagers who died … could not be resurrected.
"After all. This is no longer a game. "
The sigh in the darkness carried with it an inexplicable sense of oppression.
The corpse in the Orc's hand just now should be that of a child. It looked like he was only seven or eight years old. At this age, the world was beautiful, and everything he saw should be full of hope. He also had his own ideals, and his heart was full of longing.
But for the child who could not even find the lower half of his body, all of this was already empty talk.
Roddy threw away the last piece of the corpse in his hand with some disgust. When he stopped, the wargs were already more than a hundred meters away from the camp. And a few figures who were patrolling in the distance turned around from the side of the camp.
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