Gladiator Squadron

The orc spectators erupted in exuberant cheers, welcoming Kazimir into their ranks with fervor. Simplicity defined Orcish values – strength and honor held a paramount place, yet their brutal nature reveled in the chaos of combat, embracing the very essence of murder. In their seeming contradictions, the orcs found a harmonious expression of their primal instincts.

Seba descended into the arena, enveloping Kazimir in a bear-like embrace. "Welcome, boy," he declared warmly. As they exited the arena together, Seba gestured to the guards, signaling them to start the cleanup of the blood-stained battleground.

Seba clapped a heavy hand on Kazimir's shoulder, his grip firm but friendly. "Listen well, Kazimir. In the Orcish Tribe of the Black Mountain, we are organized into five castes. At the bottom, there are the slaves, with no rights and a tough life. Then come the gladiators, fighters like you, who earn their keep in the arena. After them, the warriors, a fairly privileged group, and above them, the shamans, the elite of our tribe. At the pinnacle is the warchief, the leader."

"As for you, my boy," Seba continued, a spark of pride in his eyes, "you will have the honor of joining the warrior caste. But there's a twist – your squadron will be made up of former gladiators I've recruited. A unique bunch, strong and hungry for freedom, just like you."

Kazimir nodded, absorbing the information. "Your primary task will be to raid areas near human cities, just as you experienced when you were captured. It's a rough job, but it's the life we lead here in the Black Mountain."

Seba led Kazimir through the lively orcish city within the Black Mountain, stopping at a gathering of warriors to make introductions. The first to step forward was Arfas, a human warrior who bore the noble air of a prince. His long blond hair framed his determined face, and his blue eyes held a mix of curiosity and acceptance. "Arfas, a fellow warrior," Seba announced, "He has proven his mettle in the arena many times."

Next in line was Gemlir, a stout dwarf with a long, unruly beard. His breath hinted at the dwarven affinity for strong spirits. Seba presented him, saying, "Gemlir, our rune warrior. A master of both blade and magic." Gemlir gave Kazimir a hearty nod.

As they continued their walk, Seba led Kazimir to a group of former peon orcs who had ascended to the warrior class. Their weathered faces and battle scars spoke of their journey. Seba introduced them with pride, "These orcs have earned their place through fierce battles and unwavering determination. They will be your comrades, Kazimir."

Seba then turned towards Kazimir, a grin on his face, "Now, introduce yourself, boy".

Kazimir stepped forward, addressing the warriors with a confident demeanor, "Greetings. I'm Kazimir, a soul warrior. My abilities are conjuring illusions and instantaneous movement. I may not be a seasoned warrior yet, but I've proven my worth in the arena. Together, we'll make a formidable force, and I look forward to fighting by your side."