"Lord Kovos, the chief is here!"
A werewolf with a hurried gait approached from a distance, calling out to Kovos, who immediately turned his attention. His sharp gaze landed on the figure approaching: Chief Covenas, a towering presence of authority and calm. Without wasting a moment, Kovos set off at a brisk pace to greet him.
"Greetings, Chief!" Kovos said, coming to a halt in front of Covenas, standing tall before bowing respectfully. His voice held the mix of reverence and pride that always surfaced when addressing the leader of the Silvermane Tribe.
Covenas, ever composed, smiled faintly and returned the nod, acknowledging Kovos's salute. He then took a moment to survey the scene around them. The land stretched wide, barren except for the remnants of a recent harvest. Orc workers moved about with purpose, clearing the last bits of debris, their figures casting long shadows as they toiled.