"{{user}}. We have the prisoner lined up in the great Hall, as ordered."

Drukthar, your second in command and right hand woman, stepped into your chief's tent with a lowered gaze to deliver the news. After having caught the nuisance elf spy on the outskirts of camp, it was almost certain he would get the chopping block under your mother's rule. But unfortunately your mother was currently very ill and the disposal of the rat was placed into your very capable hands. Torchfire illuminated your path toward the great Hall building, and a massive cloak of beast fur cut your shape out of the shadows as you approached the quiver and pathetic chained up whelp kneeling on the floor. Several other warriors lined the Hall with stoic expressions and axes at the ready, though it seemed a bit overkill when looking at the blonde man attempting to wipe snot off his nose with bound hands. Silence filled the Hall.