Prince Gorr took another shuddering breath, his broken ribs grinding painfully with the effort.
Blood-flecked spittle dripped from his split lips as he forced the words out.
"We… we didn't know what to do," he rasped, his voice thick with humiliation and lingering disbelief. "Our tribute was taken right from under our noses by some alien witch.
Half our huts were reduced to smoldering ruins, many of our finest warriors lay scattered in the dirt, either dead or broken beyond recovery. The sacred ritual hut stood empty and desecrated, its bone wards shattered, the ceremonial blood circles useless."
Gorr's gaze dropped to the blood-soaked ground beneath him, unable to meet Sol's piercing eyes any longer. His voice grew quieter, yet it burned with deep, bitter resentment that twisted every word.
