Volk stared at Grounad, with his brow furrowed incredibly in confusion.
"I thought we only needed to stay here, wait for the war above to settle down between Red elven Warlocks and Dark Elven Witches, and then we could come back, right?"
His voice held uncertainty, as if the plan he had believed in suddenly made no sense.
Grounad glanced at him with an expression of realization, his rough features softening as he remembered something crucial.
"That's what the other clans want you to think, Volk. But it's not that simple."
The Dreadmaw Clan had always been different.
Discriminated against.
Shunned by the other Orc Clans because of their perceived weakness.
Volk didn't know that much as Grounad observe his facial expression. And probably, Volk also didn't understand why it mattered so much here, in this dungeon.
"You don't know, do you?"
Grounad continued, his tone patient but serious.
