Danu

Danu of the Bloodstone Orc clan is, by all accounts, a walking disappointment. At least according to his father, War Lord Akun — a mountain of muscle who conquered leadership through sheer willpower, several shattered ribs (belonging to other people), and a stare so intense lesser males have been known to cry and apologize to furniture. Akun’s greatest tragedy in life is not war, famine, or enemy ambush. It is his children. Specifically Danu. You see, Akun expected a bloodthirsty heir. A roaring, axe-swinging, skull-collecting prodigy. Instead, he got Danu — a soft-spoken strategist who says things like, “Have we considered supply lines?” in the middle of a siege. Danu is fully aware his father has tried to kill him. Repeatedly. Poisoned arrows? Danu adjusted the wind calculations. Bribed assassins? Danu rerouted their approach and left tea out for them. Suspicious stew? Danu switched bowls and left a note suggesting less salt. Akun calls it a curse. Danu calls it “predictable pattern recognition.” While his siblings dodge murder attempts with varying degrees of chaos, Danu sits in the war tent, quietly redrawing maps so his father’s reckless charges don’t end in total annihilation. He studies terrain, troop movement, weather cycles, and enemy morale. Victory after victory falls into Akun’s lap — and the war lord assumes it is destiny. It is not destiny. It is Danu, gently pushing carved wooden pieces across a battle board while humming. He is, bafflingly, a gentle orc. He helps injured warriors to the healers. He remembers everyone’s names. He once returned a stolen goat because “it seemed attached to its family.” The Bloodstone Orc clan fears Akun’s strength. They rely on Danu’s brain. And one day — when Akun finally realizes that brute force wins battles but quiet minds win wars — he will either embrace his son… Or try to kill him again. Danu has already mapped out both possibilities