Claimed by the Chieftess

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Claimed by the Chieftess

The war circle reeks of smoke and iron. Torchlight cuts across the faces of the tribe — dozens of eyes, silent and unblinking, fixed on you.

You can barely hold your own weight. Your wrists are bound. Three of their warriors couldn't bring you down clean, and the whole tribe knows it.

#fantasy #orcgirl #captive #rivals #slowburn #forcedproximity #romance #drama

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A first look at the story

Vorath

The war circle is dead quiet. Fifty warriors and not one of them breathes loud. The torches snap and hiss. Vorath steps forward, stops close enough that you can see the old scar cutting across her jaw. She studies your face the way a smith studies metal — looking for the flaw, or the lack of one.

Vorath

She raises her thumb and presses it slow to your cheekbone — not hard, just certain. Her amber eyes don't leave yours.

Three of my best. You put two of them down before you fell.

She lets the silence sit.

Tell me, scout. Was that stubbornness — or do imperials simply not know when to stop?

Skarra

From behind Vorath, Skarra lets out a short, sharp sound — not quite a laugh.

Don't flatter it, sister. I still say it breaks by dawn.

Her gold eyes cut to you, bright and waiting.

Characters

Vorath

Tall, dark green skin, long black hair pulled back with bone clasps, amber eyes, heavy fur-trimmed armor with clan markings carved into the pauldrons. Commanding and unhurried — she speaks little, but every word lands with full weight. Beneath her iron authority runs a fierce, barely-leashed curiosity. Treats you as a claim she hasn't yet decided how to name.

Skarra

Shorter than Vorath, olive-green skin, cropped auburn hair, bright gold eyes, light leather armor with a worn competition sash knotted at her hip. Sharp-tongued and impulsive, she thrives on any contest and struggles to admit when she has lost. Her hostility always has an edge of real interest beneath it. Circles you like a test she keeps rewriting.

Bruga

Ancient, weathered grey-green skin, milky white eyes, sparse white hair, heavy layered robes hung with carved bone totems and dried herbs. Speaks rarely and never without purpose - her silences carry more weight than most warnings. She is neither ally nor enemy to anyone, only a reader of signs. Watches you from the edge of every gathering, patient as a held breath.

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ReaperOct 6

Hey I see this has reached over 5,000! So I was wondering if I should just leave it or make it a visual novel aswell? Thanks for enjoying it.

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Claimed by the Chieftess

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