As they all sat down, they started by introducing themselves. Taressa, Toqlan, Jod, and Oran. They introduced themselves and shared a bit about themselves. Then Oran asked:

  "So you want land?" He said, without hostility, almost in an amused tone.

  Taressa answered with less hostility than Jod was used to.

  "Our king needs land to grow but prefers to ally and trade with creatures rather than kill them."

  Oran seemed a little bit unnerved by the mental contact but quickly recovered. A flash of images followed from Taressa of how the ants had come to serve Mafu. And another of how the territory had looked in the other world.

  Oran looked as if in deep thought for a while, sitting in silence. He then smacked his leg and proclaimed,

  "Well, this is not for me to decide. We have to talk to the tribal council, but from what you've shown me, there should be no issues."

  He stood up and then said,

  "In fact, bring the entire group. Should the council decide to oust you, I will guide you to unclaimed lands. I stake my honor on it."

  ---

  Jod walked behind the hulking figure, Oran.

  He inspected the creature, who had explained that their race was called "Orc." It was clear that Oran was physically strong; his muscles seemed to have muscles. The massive bow's bowstring did not bend at all while walking through the forest, betraying the strength needed to draw it.

  The train of refugees followed them, and at the back the other orc was walking last to cover their rear. Jod had not gotten his name. They walked at a quick pace, following a snaking path that was slightly hidden in the overgrowth, yet Oran walked as if it was as clear as a paved path.

  Jod increased his pace until he walked almost lockstep with Oran and asked:

  "How many of your kind live in your settlement?"

  "About a thousand. Always." Jod thought he heard a bit of sadness in Oran's voice, then the orc continued, "We are almost there, about five minutes."

  All Jod could see was an overgrown forest, but he trusted that Oran knew exactly where they were, so he fell back and informed Toqlan and Taressa.

  Five minutes later the forest suddenly opened up, and a small hill appeared before them with a large palisade wall blocking the way to the highest part of the hill. On the slopes of the hill were wooden spikes placed randomly everywhere, pointing outwards.

  Oran said, "Wait here; I must contact the council. I will leave Otek to guard you and send out more warriors to guard you. The hollow do not come here often, but nowhere is safe." With that, Oran increased his pace, although it still looked as if he was walking, and Jod realized that the orc had paced himself to make sure the wagons and refugees could keep up.

  Taressa walked up to Jod, and since she had maintained a connection to his mind since they met Oran, she already knew what he had said. Thus they waited, and not long after a group of 20 orcs exited the palisade gate. They all carried large weapons: spears, axes, halberds, and great mauls. All made of wood, leather, and stone.

  Jod briefly wondered if there was no metal in this world.

  The orcs walked up to where Jod and Taressa were waiting, and one of them yelled out in a booming voice.

  "Hail visitors! I am guard captain Tarkon. I have been instructed to guard our guests while the old farts inside talk to Oran!" The orc was smiling, and as he walked closer, Jod realized that Oran might be one of the shorter, smaller orcs of this settlement.

  "Greetings, I am Jod, and this is Taressa. We are grateful for your protection!" Jod half screamed, subconsciously trying not to be outdone by the orc's booming voice.

  The orc warriors spread out on either side of the now fairly long trailing caravan of people and wagons. They stared at the different people, both human and beast-kin, that were part of the refugees as they took up their position. Jod felt for the first time that being human was an oddity.

  The guard captain, Tarkon, stayed behind with Jod and soon sat down; Jod followed his example.

  "So you want to move in, is what I hear?" Tarkon said, prying for information.

  "Yes, to this world. We are not safe in our world anymore. Our world's god and his followers are out to get us."

  Tarkon looked as if in thought for a few seconds, then seemed to have a revelation.

  "Ah, we had a god once! It was in the stories of the totem keeper. Someone who rules the whole world, right?"

  Jod was a bit taken aback; he had never been somewhere where God was not fully pervasive. He had to gather his thoughts before he responded.

  "Yes and no, it is more like... an invisible creature that can rewrite how things work. It can raise a mountain out of the ground in a second. As long as you believe in it and follow it, you gain many benefits."

  "Why did you not follow it then? If it made you stronger?"

  "For me, because those gods followers murdered my father and kidnapped me from my mother. For the beastkin, it is because they were enslaved by the god and his followers."

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  "What does the word "enslaved" mean?"

  Yet again, Jod was taken aback. What was common sense to know in his world was not in others.

  "It is a sort of magic that makes one creature hold all the power over another creature. In our world, humans are considered superior, and beast-kin are little more than animals a human can order around using that magic. Of course, many humans don't like slavery, but the followers of the human god are more powerful than anything, so most people keep quiet and keep their heads down."

  Tarkon seemed to have a hard time grasping the concept, and Jod did not blame him. It was hard to define slavery to someone who had no knowledge of it. And Jod did not particularly want to even bring the knowledge and concept of slavery into this world.

  Oran exited the palisade gate about half an hour after the orc warriors had come out.

  "You are all welcome to take shelter in our village, and we will hold a feast tonight for our guests!" Oran smiled.

  It did not take long for the refugees and the wagons to enter the village. Inside of the palisade wall, there were watchtowers evenly spaced along the wall. There were guards in every single one, and there seemed to be many exits out of the village. There were no buildings in the village other than defensive ones. The orcs seemed to live in large tents made out of a light brown hide, with a small hole at the top.

  They were greeted by a massive orc with two large axes hanging by his waist. He wore a leather jacket, patched together of different kinds of leather, with white fur around the neck. He had matching pants, with the same patchwork leather. His face looked quite old, but his eyes were a sharp light yellow color. His wrinkles made him seem wise.

  "Greetings! I am Warchief Parek! I will show you to where you can set down your belongings for the night." The warchief had a gruff, raspy voice, but his tone was happy and welcoming.

  "Greetings, I am Jod, and this is Taressa. Our true leader is still sleeping but will greet you as soon as we can... grow him again." Jod said, unsure how much the Warchief knew.

  The Warchief chuckled and said, "The mushroom Oran talked about, yes? We will talk about this before the evening's feast."

  They were shown to a large open area, where ten or so orc women waited to help them out with unloading some of the cargo. The orc women, while still muscular, were far closer to humans in appearance. They were smaller than their male counterparts, and their fangs were almost just slightly longer teeth.

  They were tall, maybe 180cm on average, but their arms and legs did not seem all that much larger than a human's. If the orc males were the brute, explosive force that could smash through a wall, the orc women seemed more suited for long-distance running.

  It took about an hour for the refugees to gather up in the plaza, unload their belongings off the wagons, and set up a temporary shelter. The orc women then brought some of the same tents they had, 10 of them. They helped put them up, instructing the refugees on how to do it.

  Each tent had space for about 10 full-grown orc males, so 10 tents seemed to be a bit of overkill for their relatively small group, but Jod took it as the orcs' hospitality and thanked the women for their help. Not long after, an orc warrior came to summon Jod, Taressa, and Toqlan for a meeting with the council.

  They were shown to a large tent, much larger than the others, that was decorated with patterns and gemstones woven through the hide. Inside, a large fire burned in the middle, throwing a dim orange light over the interior. At the opposite side of the entrance were three wooden "thrones." In the center were a few quilted pillows, meant for sitting on.

  They were shown to the middle of the tent. Upon the three wooden thrones sat three orcs. One of them they knew, the Warchief Parek. Jod introduced Toqlan and Taressa.

  "Greetings. I am Totemkeeper Bulok," said the orc sitting on the throne furthest to the right.

  "And as you know, I am Warchief Parek," said the warchief, comfortably lounging on the middle throne.

  "And lastly, I am Farseer Telim," said the orc sitting on the throne on the left.

  The Farseer then continued:

  "We have talked to Oran, and he said that you shared visions of your previous arrangement with this mushroom king?"

  "Yes." Taressa answered, and the three orcs jolted back a little bit in their seats as she made the mental connection. "I can show you our history and what our plans were before we came through the portal."

  "Then, please do so with us three." The Farseer was the one who recovered fastest from Taressa's intrusion of his mind. Taressa then started showing the orcs visions, more than she had shown Oran.

  After five minutes or so, the orcs seemed to snap out of it at the same time. The Warchief looked as if he was thinking deeply about the visions he had seen; the Totemkeeper seemed troubled by it.

  The Farseer spoke almost instantly after snapping out of his visions.

  "Ah, it is as Oran said. Good. The plans we have talked about might then be possible. If the mushrooms abilities work as we assume."

  "May I ask what your plans mean for us?" Jod interjected.

  "Yes. We have a problem, a problem that has been going on for generations. For nearly a millennia, if the stories are right." The totem keeper was the one to speak. Then the Farseer continued:

  "The hollow. You have met them and fought them. Soulless husks that take our form. We can kill hundreds, thousands of them. But they always have more, and losing one orc to kill a hundred of them is a price too heavy to bear. We are but a thousand orcs in this settlement, and that is by design. If we ever increase our number too high, about 1200, all the Hollow come to attack us."

  The Farseer paused and then shook his head.

  "No. Not attack. They come to cull us. Therefore, we keep our numbers around 1000 and have tried everything to get out of this predicament. We know of hereditary skills, and so we make the strongest of us procreate with each other so that the children are strong." He looked at the Warchief and Totemkeeper, sadness in his eyes.

  "I, the Farseer, have the task of safeguarding our future. All the previous Farseers, since the beginning of the hollow, have chosen which orcs will procreate. It is a horrible task, as we are not animals. We love our partners and want our own children. But the price for growing past 1200 orcs is a culling."

  "Last time, only 230 orcs remained." The Totemkeeper interjected. "As the one with the title of Totemkeeper, I am tasked with remembering history. I tell our history in the form of stories so that we might not repeat old mistakes." On the left side of his waist hung a thick book made of hide.

  The Warchief now picked up the conversation:

  "We plan to join hands with your mushroom king if it helps us out of our predicament. In the visions we saw mushroom warriors sacrificing themselves simply to stop a horse. It looked as if they had a lower value than the ants, humans, and beast-kin. Is that the case?" A greedy look had appeared in the Warchief's eyes.

  Taressa answered, knowing more about Mafus's abilities than anyone else present.

  "They are spawned by the king. Their lives are not worthless, but if the king were to choose, he would sacrifice all his mushrooms for one human or beastkin."

  "That is what we thought." The Warchief responded, now leaning forward with a smile on his face. "If the mushroom can keep spawning those warriors, we might be able to win a war of attrition against the hollow!"

  Taressa then asked:

  "And what price will you pay for it? Fighting thousands of enemies will be tough, even for our king." Her tone was cold and biting as she challenged the greed she perceived from the Warchief.

  The three orcs exchanged glances between each other, and the Farseer responded.

  "You mistake us, ant queen. We are not ungrateful, and we do not expect you and your king to fight for us without compensation or assistance." He paused to drink something out of a wooden cup next to him.

  "We lost our pride a long time ago and have lived a millennia with the sole focus of surviving. If your king can help us eradicate the Hollow, we will swear our fealty. We are tired. Our children grow up without hope, knowing that all they will do in life is man the walls for a hundred years."

  The Warchief spoke with a solemn voice:

  "So, will you accept that deal?"

  Taressa answered with "That is for the King to decide."