Novels by Sir Perry

The attack came without warning, no roar of a war horn or marching feet on the ground. There was only a low rumble that seemed to come from the very mountain itself. It was a sound that was of… inevitability and of a tide turning from the world ending.The first wave of the troll army hit the clan's outer defenses not with a bang but an utterly terrifying grind. They were not a charging horde but a river of stone and muscle that flowed into the narrow tunnels of the mountain, their sheer numbers a weapon in and of itself.Ruk was waiting for them standing at the front of his new army with a calm expression. He was not the whelp who had cowered in the shadows or the new War General who had won his crown in a duel. He was a king among his peers.He had chosen his ground carefully in a narrow, winding tunnel of a natural chokepoint that was barely wide enough for two trolls to stand near eachother. It was a deathtrap of a place where the trolls' greatest strength, their numbers, would be

The euphoria of the victory over the troll scouts evaporated the moment Nym revealed the true scale of the threat with the sketch of the Mountain King, with his obsidian skin and his iron crown it was a chilling and deeply sobering reality check. The clan was not facing a disorganized horde of monsters but an army. An army with a king that was coming to reclaim its home.The weight of this new and terrifying reality settled upon Ruk like a physical burden. He had just won the clans favor and had just begun to forge a new world but now, it was all about to be swept away in a tide of blood and stone. He felt a flicker of the old despair, the despair of Aiden Cross, a man who had always been destined to lose and he crushed it. He was not Aiden Cross anymore, he was now Ruk, and he would not lose. He would not let his people be slaughtered and his new world die before it had even been born.He called a war council in the privacy of his command grotto.It was a small and exclusive council

The return of the scouts was a moment of high drama theater that Ruk had planned with Nym down to the last detail. They did not sneak back into the cavern under the cover of darkness but marched in at midday, with their heads held high and their faces grim but triumphant. They carried the trophies of their victory in hand, the massive stony teeth, the jagged obsidian claws, the still beating and large troll hearts.They were not just scouts returning from a mission, they were heroes returning from a war.The clan had been living under a cloud of fear and uncertainty for the past two days had now erupted. The sight of the troll trophies and undeniable proof that the monsters could be beaten and could be killed, it was a jolt of pure adrenaline. The fear did not vanish but instead was transformed into a new hope.Ruk was waiting for them in the center of the cavern with the assembled tribe, his new elite warrior guard standing on his flanks with their facial expression looking disciplin

The discovery of the troll tooth sent a wave fear through the cavern that morning. The older orcs, the ones who had heard the stories from their grandmothers, had their faces go pale from fear. The younger ones, the ones who had grown up in the relative safety of Grummok's reign, all looked confused, as their brittle shield against a terror they could not yet comprehend became a reality.Ruk however, did not have the luxury of fear now, he had the burden of command being the War General. The troll threat was no longer a myth, but a clear and present danger as a shadow had fallen over his new world order and he knew, with a certainty that how he responded to this crisis would define his legacy as War General.He did not panic but instead he acted and honed his mental state by a lifetime of quiet observation and a year of brutal, relentless survival as a whelp as he went into a state of cold overdrive. He was no longer Aiden Cross, the quiet, unassuming human. He was Ruk, the War Genera

The first week of Ruk's reign as War Ghief was a chaotic and transformative period for the Black Tusk Clan. The old comfortable, lazy and individualistic habits of the warriors, were shattered against the anvil of Ruk's new vision. He was not a leader who ruled from a throne but was a commander who led from the front, his days were full of new activity and his nights a blur of planning.The training began at dawn with no more lazing about or casual brawling with disorganized and individual hunts. Ruk had the entire warrior class of some fifty orcs, assembled in the main cavern. He divided them into five squads of ten, with each a designated leader. Grak his first and most reluctant to convert, was given command of the first squad, a position of honor that also served as a constant public test of his loyalty.The training was unlike anything the clan had ever seen before. It was a relentless and often humiliating ordeal that Ruk had them running drills, practicing formations, learning

The silence that followed Ruk's roar was a fragile thing like a moment of disbelief. The whole gathered clan stared as their minds were struggling to reconcile the image of the whelp they had known with the blood soaked figure that now stood victorious in the pit. He had not just killed the War General but had consumed him and taken his power, his title and his very essence. It was a new kind of victory and dominance they have never witnessed and it was terrifying.Ruk with his body still trembling from the aftershocks of the stimulant and the massive influx of power from the DEVOUR skill and forced himself to stand tall. He knew that this was the most critical moment of his new life after the duel was won, but the war for control had just begun. He had to plant his authority and seize the narrative to turn the clan's fear into respect and then their respect into loyalty to him.He turned his gaze from the silent crowd and looked up at the throne where the Alpha Grummok was sitting. T