“Ront not like dwarfs.” Ront stated matter-of-factly, the light from Eldeth’s pyre flickering in eyes. The massive orc turned to the smaller pyre of Topsy and snorted, “Ront not like small dwarfs either.” He stood straight and defiant, his eyes narrowed, lightning crawling across them. “But they not dwarfs, they ORCS.”
Beside him, Stool shivered. It was the closest approximation to tears the little myconid could produce. Ront placed a large clawed hand on its cap. “Do not dishonor them with sadness. They Storm Queen Tribe. They fight in the lightning now. Storm Caller and Bear Demon and Little Dragon and Ront are Storm Queen’s Fury. We will kill all the elfs and all the demons. Then we will join them in the sky.” He cast a glowering look at Hammer, “That one does not yet understand. He will. Or Ront kill him too.”
Stool seemed to calm at Ront’s words. “So many have died though.” Stool’s childlike voice sounded in Ront’s mind. “I think maybe we will all die….” He shivered again at the thought.
Ront broke into a shark-like grin, his massive tusks and fangs gleaming. “Yes!” He roared. “Yes! We will all die.” Ront laughed, lightning arcing across his skin. “If we do not, we did not fight hard enough!”