Clan of the lost lands.

The swamp was thick with predator and prey…

The air thick and tepid with a fog that intoxicated the mind…

A knotted, hulking mass trudged along in the shadow of the swamp. A bundled cloth swaddled in his arms. He grunted with every other step, heaving the reigns attached to a equally old and nappy llama behind him. Among its packed goods, a curved blade of black hung on its side, sheathed and fastened.

"Tch Tik!" A click of a noise came out of his mouth, "C’mo Grumps..". His words were slurred and butchered, much like his Orcish tongue. These phrases he repeated for days on end as the trek through the swamp dragged on… until he reached the edge of the marshlands giving way to the jagged mountains of the lost lands.

Drunk off the intoxicating fumes from having stayed in the swamp far to long, he headed for the very first cave he could find. Upon entry, a low purring growl could be heard in its depths. The orc peered with old eyes into the darkness.. taking long, slow inhales of air through his cavernous nostrils.

"S’am as ye’… won’ urt ya.." He slurred, carefully placing the bundled cloth in a small nook inside the cave entrance.

With that, he lit a torch. A small shriek came from the deceivingly small cave. A young swamp dragon chirped frustration at having his eyes blinded by the light.

"Tch Tik…." clicked the orc. "N’other mouth to feed.."

Movement came from the entrance of the cave… with sudden impulse the hulking mass spun around, disbelieving he could ever be tracked through the swamps of his fathers.

"T-tch…" A faint clicking sound came– but not from him!

He looked down to where he had placed the cloth, -it was strewn about- trailing towards the adolescent swamp dragon. Suddenly, a small head popped out with a tuft of dark green hair and glazed grey eyes.

The old orc huffed air out of his nostrils, "Shara.."

~To be continued~

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