BigSaltyDog

  Chapter 5: The War Council of Men The torchlight flickered across a long stone table, casting grim shadows on the faces of kings, generals, and high lords gathered within the war tent. The air was thick with sweat, steel, and the unmistakable stench of dread. Sir Salty entered without ceremony, his cloak still damp from the fog outside, battle axe strapped across his back. Mud clung to his boots, and a smear of dried blood stained the leather of his glove. He hadn’t slept in days. The talking stopped. “Salty,” said Lord Eldric of Caerwyn, rising stiffly, a silver-haired noble whose once-golden armour bore the dents of too many campaigns. “We feared you would not return from the southern ridge.” Salty grunted, tossed a bundle of wolf pelts and severed goblin ears onto the table with a thud. “They’ve begun moving,” he said. “Scouting parties, wolf riders, poison traps in the rivers. The Orc lords are coming.” Gasps echoed through the council chamber. One knight crossed himse...