A day after the battle, the village gathered to pay their respects to the two instructors who had lost their lives. The air was thick with emotion as the villagers came together to celebrate the lives of the fallen warriors.
Korga stood at the center of the gathering, his voice booming as he delivered a passionate speech. "Today, we gather to honor the memory of two brave warriors who gave their lives to protect our village," he said, his eyes scanning the crowd. "They died with honor, defending the future of our people against the forces of darkness. Their sacrifice will not be forgotten."
The villagers nodded in agreement, their faces somber as they raised their cups in a toast to the fallen instructors. The atmosphere was one of reverence and respect, as the villagers paid tribute to the bravery and selflessness of the two men. As the night wore on, the mood shifted, and the villagers began to drink and celebrate the lives of the fallen warriors. The sound of laughter and music filled the air, as the villagers came together to honor the memory of their comrades.
The next day, a lone warrior from the Silver Bear tribe appeared at the gates of the Mountain Born village. He was tall and imposing, with a scar above his left eyebrow and a confident stride. He bore a message from his chieftain for Chief Korga, and he requested an audience with the chief.
Chief Korga, still reeling from the events of the past few days, agreed to meet with the warrior. The warrior was led to the chief's tent, where Korga sat behind his desk, his eyes narrowing as he regarded the Silver Bear warrior.
The warrior bowed low, his hand on the hilt of his sword. "Greetings, Chief Korga," he said, his voice deep and resonant. "I come bearing a message from my chieftain."
But before he could deliver the message, the warrior's demeanor changed. His eyes flashed with a fierce light, and he drew his sword in a swift motion. Korga's eyes widened in surprise as the warrior charged forward, his sword flashing in the dim light of the tent.
Korga reacted quickly, drawing his own sword and blocking the attack. The two blades clashed, the sound of steel on steel ringing out through the tent.
"What madness is this?" Korga demanded, his eyes locked on the warrior's face. "Have you lost your mind, attacking me in my own tent?"
The warrior's face twisted in a snarl, his eyes burning with a fierce intensity. "You know exactly why I'm here, Korga," he spat. "You're a thorn in our side, and it's time you were removed."
Korga's face darkened, his grip on his sword tightening. "You're no messenger," he growled. "You're an assassin. And you'll pay for your treachery."
The warrior's eyes blazed with fury as he spat at Korga. "You're the one who's betrayed our people, Korga," he snarled. "You and your tribe have protected the elves, our natural enemies, for far too long. You've forgotten the ancient ways of our people, and you've forgotten the hatred that burns in our hearts for those treacherous creatures."
Korga's face twisted in anger, his grip on his sword tightening. "How dare you," he growled. "The Mountain Born tribe will not be swayed by your lies and propaganda. We will continue to protect our allies, no matter the cost."
The warrior's face contorted with rage, his sword flashing in the dim light of the tent. "You're no better than the elves themselves," he spat. "You're a traitor to our people, and you'll pay for your treachery with your life."
Korga's eyes narrowed, his mind racing with the implications of the warrior's words. He knew that the Silver Bear tribe had long been hostile towards the elves, and that they would stop at nothing to eliminate them. But he also knew that the Mountain Born tribe would not be intimidated, and that they would continue to protect their allies no matter the cost.
The two men stood frozen, their swords locked, their eyes blazing with fury. The air was thick with tension, and it seemed that the fate of the Mountain Born tribe hung in the balance.
The two men clashed, their swords flashing in the dim light of the tent. Korga's face was set in a fierce determination, his eyes locked on the warrior's face. The warrior was skilled, but Korga's experience and training gave him the upper hand.
As they fought, Korga suffered some scratches on his arm and chest, but he didn't let the pain distract him. He focused on the warrior's movements, looking for an opening to strike.
The warrior was relentless, his sword slicing through the air with deadly precision. But Korga was a seasoned warrior, and he knew how to use his opponent's aggression against him.
With a swift motion, Korga parried the warrior's attack and countered with a powerful slash. The warrior tried to block it, but Korga's sword was too fast, too strong. It bit deep into the warrior's neck, and his head flew off his shoulders, landing with a thud on the ground.
Korga stood panting, his chest heaving with exertion. He looked down at the warrior's lifeless body, his face grim. "You should have stayed out of this," he said, his voice cold.
He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. He knew that this was just the beginning of a long and bloody conflict. The Silver Bear tribe would not take kindly to the death of one of their own, and they would likely retaliate with force.
Korga sheathed his sword, his mind racing with the implications of what had just happened. He knew that he had to inform his tribe of the attack, and that they needed to prepare for war. The Mountain Born tribe would not be caught off guard again. They would be ready.
~~~A few minutes later
Korga called a meeting with the finest warriors of the Mountain Born tribe, gathering them in a large tent on the outskirts of the village. The air was thick with tension as the warriors assembled, their faces set with determination.
"Brothers, we have been attacked," Korga began, his voice firm. "A warrior from the Silver Bear tribe came to our village, bearing a false message and attempting to assassinate me. He paid for his treachery with his life, but we must now decide how to respond."
Grimgold, one of the warriors, spoke up first. "We should attack the Silver Bear tribe immediately," he said, his voice filled with anger. "We cannot let this affront go unpunished. We must show them that we will not be intimidated."
But another warrior, a grizzled veteran named Thorold, disagreed. "We must honor the warrior's code," he said, his voice calm. "We must declare war on the Silver Bear tribe, and give them the opportunity to prepare for battle. It is only honorable that we do so."
Korga looked at Thorold, his eyes narrowing. "You suggest that we wait two weeks, as is the custom," he said. "But can we afford to wait? Will it not give the Silver Bear tribe time to prepare and gain the upper hand?"
Thorold nodded. "It is true that waiting may give them an advantage, but it is also true that we must honor our traditions. We are warriors, not assassins. We must show respect for our enemies, even in the face of treachery."
The warriors debated back and forth, each side presenting their arguments. Korga listened carefully, weighing the pros and cons of each approach. Finally, he made his decision.
"We will honor the warrior's code," he said, his voice firm. "We will declare war on the Silver Bear tribe, and give them two weeks to prepare for battle. Let us show them that we are a tribe of warriors, and that we will not be intimidated." The warriors nodded in agreement, some looking relieved, others looking disappointed. But they all knew that Korga's word was law, and that they would follow his lead into battle.
Later that night, Korga stood at a distance, watching as his son Throne practiced swordsmanship in the moonlight. Grimgold stood beside him, a hint of a smile on his face.
"Look at him go," Grimgold said, nodding towards Throne. "The kid's got talent, Korga. Can you believe he's imitating what he saw me doing to those armored wolves?"
Korga's expression was unreadable, but Grimgold continued. "I've seen some potential in him, Korga. He's quick on his feet and has a natural instinct for combat. I don't understand why you don't accept it."
Korga's gaze remained fixed on Throne, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of pride and concern. "What's the use of teaching someone who's gonna die how to fight?"
Grimgold chuckled. " thats how you see it?
Well, I see it as giving him a choice to fight. In your mind you already killed the kid off, but maybe of you taught him something he would be venturing the world looking for the cure."
Korga sighed before answering. "Me teaching him anything would've made him get hurt quickly and die younger."
"So you were afraid of losing him after all..you know you're raising a warrior, right? He's going to get hurt, and he's going to learn from it. That's the way it is. But I think Throne's got what it takes to be a great warrior, just like his old man." Said Grimgold
Korga's expression softened slightly, but he remained silent, watching as Throne continued to practice his sword moves. Grimgold's words had struck a chord, and Korga couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and hope for his son's future. His eyes never left his son's figure as he began to walk towards him. "One sword art, that's all I'm gonna teach him," he said to Grimgold, his voice low and determined. "For now, at least."
Grimgold nodded, a hint of understanding in his expression. "The Blood Wolf Slash," he said, a small smile playing on his lips. "A good choice, Korga. A powerful and deadly technique."
Korga didn't respond, his focus solely on his son. As he approached Throne, he called out to him. "Throne, come here for a moment."
Throne stopped practicing and turned to face his father, his eyes cold and distant. He didn't seem to acknowledge Korga's presence, his gaze piercing through him like ice. Korga walked up to him, his eyes scanning his son's stance and posture. "Let's work on the Blood Wolf Slash," he said, his voice firm but gentle. "Just one technique, but I want you to master it."
Throne's expression didn't change, his eyes still cold and unforgiving. He nodded curtly, but his body language screamed of resentment and mistrust. Korga noticed it, but didn't comment, instead focusing on teaching his son the technique. The tension between them was palpable, and Grimgold watched with interest, sensing the complicated dynamics between father and son.
Korga stood before Throne, his eyes locked on his son's. "The Blood Wolf Slash is a powerful technique," he began, his voice steady. "It requires focus, strength, and control. The first form is the simplest, but it's also the foundation of the entire technique."
Throne's gaze remained cold and distant, but he seemed to be listening intently. Korga demonstrated the stance, his feet shoulder-width apart, his sword held in a relaxed grip. "The key to the Blood Wolf Slash is the 'fangs'," he explained. "Depending on one's level, a single fang-like slash is manifested."
As Korga spoke, his sword began to glow with a faint, blood-red aura. A single, razor-sharp "fang" of energy extended from the blade, pulsating with a fierce intensity. Throne's eyes flickered with interest, but his expression remained guarded.
Korga nodded, his eyes never leaving his son's. "Your turn," he said, his voice firm. "Let's see if you can manifest a single fang."
Throne's grip on his sword tightened, his eyes focusing on the blade. He took a deep breath, and his body began to tense with anticipation. Korga watched, his expression a mix of expectation and concern, as Throne attempted to manifest the first form of the Blood Wolf Slash.