The war of Asgren
As I survey the field I see the wild game that will feed the clan. I try not to think of the horde that will gather at the stronghold tonight to decide the new Warchief, I think only of the meat that grazes in-front of me. I charge forth without a second thought and grab the wild boar and snap its neck while the others flee. "Always best to take out the alpha, the rest will be easy to pick off without the leader." Just like the sovereign teaches. I carry the meat back to the stronghold and leave it near the fire for the women and young ones to prepare. All males hunt for the day of the gathering. When the blood moon rises the sovereign will decide the leader of the horde.
(The story begins within an Orc stronghold, for countless generations the god Sovereign has watched over the horde to ensure the other races do not enslave them. The pact was made long ago during the blood moon, among the orcs, trolls, goblins and ogres one leader would be decided to lead and all shall follow or suffer exile. The humans have never trusted these gatherings and thus sent spies into the mountains to keep watch over their closest neighbors. The elves would mind their own business knowing full well war with the horde would lead to the destruction of their lands. The other races have held back to their own territories and there has been relative peace is Asgren for hundreds of years. However the new king of Derenhav has a known hatred for the horde and has began plotting its demise.)