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The Hunter had been on the hunt for the past three sunrises.

His old lair, his home, had been destroyed by torrential rains. And with it, all of his medallions, his objects of worship, were washed away, buried, crushed or completely lost. The Hunter had grieved and wept and when his pain had finally loosened from his heart, he left.

Following the path of the wind and the shining of the stars, he was led to new lands. There were much less trees than in his forests. And for the first time in his life, he saw mountains. Stricken with awe at these behemoths of nature's form, he knew that he had come to the right place.

He had found himself a new home, one above the ground, unable to be drowned like his previous one. One, from which he could observe the creature roaming the earth. One which brings him closer to the gods. Now, whenever he performed his rituals, he would feel the divine influence, both in soul and in body.

The Hunter had been on the hunt for the past three sunrises.

Left with nothing but his wits, he made himself a new spear and knife. He had been skulking amidst the tall grass and the few forested areas for his new prey.

He had noticed the leftover steps of an indosuchus, a formidable beast in its' own right. The shape and size of the footprints had ignited something in the Hunter. He knew that this was going to be his next target.

The Hunter had been on the hunt for the past three sunrises.

He had tracked down the beast to a place far off his new home. He had waited in silence, under the mud and sticks.

He was now ready.

He buried his feet in the ground, the cool mud squishing between his toes.

He saw the creature approaching.

He lay low, eyes squinting, ready to leap out at it.

The Hunter saw it flock about and go behind a tree.

And then there was nothing. He didn't hear any more footsteps, nor did he see the beast come around. There was simply silence.

Suspicious of what might have transpired, he grabbed his spear and lifted his body off the ground, the leaves and sticks stuck his mud covered body. He stepped slowly approaching the tree with a light step.

He felt a blunt pain.

Then there was darkness.

Followed by the sound of drums.

The Hunter awoke, his head pounding and his ears buzzing. The sound of the drums was rhythmic and steady, a trance inducing warlike beat, echoing all around. It didn't take long for the Hunter to notice that was in a makeshift wooden cage, dangling over a pit. And all around, in higher and higher rows, stood others. Others like him, but different. Green-skinned. More muscular. More elaborate clothing. Tusk poking out their mouths, attached to larger jaws. Their hair, tied and braided in patterns.

The Hunter had never seen orcs before and was completely mesmerized by these tribes. He saw, at the most bottom row stood drummers, pounding away. At the middle rows were all the rest, sitting and watching. But at the top, on one side of this audience stands of the make shift arena stood the largest one of them all, an enormous club by his side and two female orcs sitting in his legs.

On the opposite end, an orc covered in animal skins, much older and more decrepit than the rest waved about a stick, dancing and chanting something in a barbarous tongue. The Hunter figured out one was the leader, while the other the tribe shaman.

The Hunter had been in a tribe once. He understood how the social system worked and this was a prime example of it.

The shaman produced a horn and blew into it. A continuous low drone filled the area as green mist seeped from the horn and down onto the viewers.

The Hunter looked around. He saw tunnels at the edges of the pit. And roars. From the tunnels ran tow beasts. The Indosuchus he had been hunting for the past few days and a Ceratosaurus. The beasts didn't look right. Their movements were twitchy and jumpy.

The fight was brutal and intense. The beasts jumped at each other, trying to claw through their hides, biting and scratching. They were caught in a deadlock, both pushing and biting the opponent's neck, hard enough to draw out blood. There was something not right with them. Something in their eyes, something unnatural, daemonic.

As the beasts pushed, the Ceratosaurus slashed its enemy across the eye, making the Indosuchus step back enough for the Ceratosaurus to spin about, snapping the other's neck.

The crowd cheered all around. Yells and chants filled the space as the beast spun around shrieking, eager for another fight.

The Hunter's cage began to lower. He was placed just outside the pit, where an orc waited for him, handing him his spear and knife. The Hunter slowly took his weapons, observing the orc. There was something in his expression. Was it pity? Or sorrow?

The orc pointed behind the Hunter, indicating him to step into the pit. The Hunter weighed his options. He could stab the orc and run, getting caught and killed in the process. Or he can do as he was indicated and step forward. There was a higher chance of survival.

The Hunter stepped forward, to the cheers of the tribe. He tightened the grip on his spear and walked along the walls of the pit, trying to close in on the beast, while it hadn't notice him. He had hunted more dangerous threads before. But this one was unique.

In a flash, the monster turned and screeched, charging towards the Hunter. Without much he could do, he buried his feet in the mud and at the last moment jumped forward, impaling the dinosaur through the neck - a method he had used successfully many times and even more successfully when the animal is tired, unable to process what was going to happen. The beast fell to one side, silenced by the weapon, but still squirming and convulsing.

Such a waste.

The Hunter took out his knife and stabbed it next to the spear, using the first wound as an entry point and sliced its' neck until her reached a jugular. The dinosaur's eyes slowly rolled back and the blood moistened the earth beneath them.

The orcs did not stop cheering, but the Hunter did not pay them any attention. He ran his fingers over the corpse, smearing blood wherever he touched, caressing the legs and feet.

They were worthy of his worship, yet this didn't feel earned.

A tired, bloodied and deranged demon, who simply impaled itself held no honor. It was a farce. A farce for the amusement of green-skinned tribesmen, thirsty for murder, yet too cowardly to commit it themselves. If this was all that could be offered to him, then there would be no way he could enjoy his trophies.

A howl pierced the chanting and drumming of the masses. The Hunter turned around to see the shaman blowing into the horn and waving a hand.

Mighty shrieks echoed through one of the tunnels as more green mist spread in the air above the Hunter. With full force an Albertosaurus charged from one of the tunnels, running straight at the Hunter. The Hunter jumped in the nick of time, barely managing to get away from the beast. His spear was crushed as the animal trampled over the carcass of the Ceratosaurus, paying it little mind.

The Hunter had jumped out of the way, but couldn't get his footing right, rolling a few times in the wet dirt, mud enveloping his body almost completely. To his surprise, he had managed to retain his grip on the knife.

The beast quickly spun and charged once again, madness in its' eyes. The Hunter tried to run, but was swept by the dinosaur's tail, lifting him up in the air. He fell hard, splashing into the mud. He tried to stand up and the dinosaur put its' foot on top of him.

It took all of his might not to get crushed by this devil, pushing against the massive foot with all of his strength. The earthy smells of the dinosaur's foot filled his nostrils. The aroma of the grasses and leaves were unfamiliar to him. It was most likely captured around his new home. This presented him with such new possibilities to learn and experience. His soul was lit a flame.

But his muscles grew weaker. He wouldn't be able to continue for long. He had only one option. He let got.

Just as he was about to get pulverized, the Hunter turned around, stabbing the beast between the toes, slicing through meat and tendon. It recoiled back, giving out an awful scream.

The beast tried to find it's footing, but was barely able to keep still on one leg. The Hunter used this opportunity to run. He ran the corpse of his former foe and he dug through the wound, trying to find any remnants of his spear. He dug into the congealed blood and flesh, finding only splinters at first. But when he saw the beast slowly approaching him, going back and forward, barely stepping on one leg, he dug faster and finally he found the piece.

He pulled the tip of his spear, still tied to a stick and he got ready. He wasn't sure what he would do, but he had the obvious advantage by now.

Although wounded, the dinosaur hadn't lost the bloodlust and fierceness in its' eyes. The beast staggered, but managed sprint towards the Hunter. Once again, it swiped its' tail at the human, but this time he caught it.

He hung to the tail as the beast waved it back and forth, trying to get free of him, leaving the dinosaur to balance only on one leg. The Hunter held on. He held on for dear life and when he saw the opportunity, he stabbed the spear into the tail.

The dinosaur shrieked in pain, tossing and turning, slamming its' tail against the ground and walls of the pit, but the Hunter didn't give in. He pulled himself upward, pulled out the weapon and stabbed the beast once more.

The animal threw itself on the ground, rolling back and forward, but the Hunter was undeterred. He held tight and the moment the dinosaur managed to get back up, he stabbed it once more and pulled himself up. He stabbed it again and pulled himself one final time. Finally, he stabbed it at the base of the tail.

The beast collapsed to the ground.

The Hunter jumped off the creature, still holding his weapon and took a calm step around the dinosaur, who was thrashing and screaming. He wiped away the sweat from his brow, stopping for a moment to observe the dinosaur's feet. Perfect length and width for it. Although it was much closer to a hunt, this was still not enough.

He sat on top of the raging monster's neck and plunged his weapon into the back of the neck. The dinosaur died.

There was a silence amongst the watchers. Perhaps none of them had expected the Hunter to survive. Or perhaps they had awaited for a much gorier ending to the demon. In either case, the silence didn't last long. The crowd cheered and the Hunter sighed and sat on the ground. He was tired, barely able to move anymore.

And then came another howl from the shaman's horn. Another wave of the green fog and another fearsome roar. The Hunter quickly jumped up, pulling out his spear from the dinosaur's neck and running back to pull out the knife from between the toes. He took a moment, admiring the beast's feet, giving them a gentle rub before he got up a readied himself.

And like his previous fight, there was barely any time for him to react. From the tunnel came forth a vicious, roaring Tyrannosaurus rex. It charged forward, the Hunter dodging at the last moment, but the dinosaur turned around and snapped down at him, missing him only because he managed to pull himself to one side. The beast struck again and he once again managed to move quick enough.

But just as he was rolling, a foot crashed right next to him. Time slowed down. This beast comes from a far-off land. She has walked for many nights, dominating every creature she came in contact with. The dirt and grass were nothing like the Hunter had ever sensed before, but the sent changed to that of the Albertosaurus. She was captured in the same lands. But she took out some orcs while he had been hunted.

The Hunter snapped out of his trance just as the dinosaur was going to attack him. With one quick strike, he slashed the beast's gums, sending blood across the battle field. The monster roared and stepped back, giving time for the Hunter to run back.

The Hunter ran towards one of the bodies, feeling the earth tremble right behind him. He jumped over the corpse of the Albertosaurus and quickly peaked out. The Tyrannosaurs opened its jaws and shot straight at him. With quick movement and considerable amount of strength, the Hunter managed to push the corpse just enough for the beast to sink its' teeth into the massacred animal.

Fangs sunk deep into lifeless flesh and bones crushed with an audible crack. The beast lifted up its' head, sedated for the moment being, trying to process its' current situation. As the monster stumbled back. The Hunter ran behind the dinosaur, jumping at the base of its' tail. With all his might, he tried to stab it, the same way he did with the previous devil, but this time, his knife broke upon impact.

The Hunter stumbled, doping his spear, but he managed to keep his holding. The dinosaur on the other hand spewed out the carcass and started thrashing back and forth. The Hunter tightened his grip as much as he could, his fingers and toes poking into the tough hide of the beast, leaving muck. But on the third attempt, the tyrannosaurus managed to throw the Hunter up in the air.

By pure chance, the Hunter managed to land onto the creature's back, which caused a different sort of thrashing, less up and down and more left and right. Again, it took the Hunter's entire strength the keep tight on top of his foe's back. But the beast was cleverer than it appeared. It ran towards the wall. The moment the Hunter realized what it was trying to do, he threw himself to one side, while the beast smashed its' back against the wall.

Slightly stunned, the beast took a few steps before realizing that its' personal pest had moved. It jumped off the ground turn around on one side in the process. The Hunter again, like a bug on tree bark, scattered over the other side of the animal. Upon impact, the monster let out a ferocious yell of pain.

As the beast barely managed to get back on its' feet, the Hunter positioned himself on its' head. Just as he was about to drive his fist into its' eye, the dinosaur let out a yelp, causing the Hunter to stumble back. It let out another yelp and spit out blood.

The Hunter tried again to position himself, but the dinosaur already knew where he was and charged. It charged forward at the wall at full speed. The Hunter jumped off just as the animal collided with the wall.

There was a "thud" and the beast fell to one side, either neck broken or skull shattered. In any case, the Hunter was once again victorious. And again, there were applause and cheers and yells. And the Hunter once again stepped forward to mourn the beast in his own way.

Standing in front of the body, he slid his hand over the animal's feet, feeling them, accepting them. Rivals in life, in death both predators find solace in each other's embrace.

A heavy grief weighed upon the Hunter's heart.

Tired, bruised, bloodied, he stood there trying wrap his head around what was happening around him.

And then came the dreaded sound once more. The blasted shaman and his horn riling the audience once more, signaling for another fight.

The Hunter did not wait. He ran to the tyrannosaurus' mouth while the mist was in the air. He opened the mouth, grabbed one of the teeth and started pulling. He pulled with all the strength he had left until finally he broke it off.

More ferocious and more deadly than any of the rest, the Carnotaurus came forth. Its' eyes were different. They seemed deluded like the rest, but even more so. There were no pleasantries, no scooping out the area. The beast simply saw the Hunter and charged at him.

The Hunter tried to run but his feet could barely carry him. He took a few steps before finally falling on his back. The dinosaur ran and jumped over him.

The scent of her feet showed that she had been here for a very long time. She had battled many foes and one every time. Dinosaurs. Orcs. Humans. And other creatures, the Hunter did not recognize. Blood, mud and dew. The scent of her feet. The stench of this pit.

The dinosaur quickly turned and tried to smash the Hunter with its' tail. He rolled away, but he was not quick enough. The tail managed to hit his shoulder. He felt a sharp pain going through his entire body, but he managed to pick himself up. He tried moving his hand, but was unable.

The dinosaur charged at him, mouth wide open. There wasn't much he could do. He wouldn't be able to dodge and he wouldn't be able to just slash at its' gums again. But there was one thing he could do. If it didn't work, he'd die for sure. Then again, anything else and he'd be dead for sure. There was nothing to lose at this point. He'd either win or die. All else was just noise in the background, shadows under leaves.

He prepared himself. He planted his feet deep in the soil, feeling the life force of all who'd died here. There was nothing else left.

The devil was now a few paces away. The Hunter tightened his grip around the tooth, holding it pointed side down, he twisted his wrist, so the tooth pointed upwards. The dinosaur was now in front of him.

The Hunter took a deep breath and leaned forward, passing between the jaws of the beast. With one swift strike he pierced the dinosaur's tongue, impaling it the rough of the mouth. The dinosaur recoiled back, howling a gurgled roar in pain.

The Hunter tried to run, but his speed barely faster than a brisk walk. Luckily for him, the demon was too preoccupied. He reached the body of the Albertosaurus and there it was - what was left of his spear. He grabbed it and turned around. The dinosaur was charging at him, shrieking and gushing blood. The Hunter readied himself. He placed one foot on top of the dead dinosaur, the touch of the cold hide feeling strangely calming. He prepared himself once more.

He jumped, using the carcass as a springing-off point, again towards the mouth of the beast and he slashed.

The devil stepped back, spewing blood, but unable to scream, its' tongue limply hanging from the roof its' mouth, gracelessly sliced off. The Hunter gripped his spear tightly, raised his hand and took aim. The beast was staggering back and forth, but his aim was true. He threw the spear, entering the dinosaur's mouth and implanting itself at the back of the throat. The monster fell to the ground, blood leaking out of its' mouth.

Once again silence fell over the arena. And once again it was filled out with applause and cheers. The Hunter walked to the body of the almost dead dinosaur and sat next to it and settled, back against its feet.

He was tired, oh so tired. But here. Now. He felt at peace. He could almost just slip into slumber. He looked up at the stands. The shaman seemed stoic, unlike what the Hunter got used to seeing. The shaman looked towards the warchief, who drank some brew from a cracked skull. Throwing the skull aside, he waved his hand and the shaman nodded.

The shaman waved his hands and the drummers ceased and with the drummers so stopped the applauds and cheering of the masses. The Hunter carefully observed the shaman. He produced a horn, but this one was longer and he started blowing into it.

The sound was quieter and higher. And when the shaman began to move his fingers across the horn, different sounds were produced. The Hunter had seen such devices a handful of times, but rarely wielded with such precision. The sounds it made stirred something inside the Hunter. Something sad.

When the shaman was done, the drummers continued playing, this time their beat was faster, played with a staccato. The shaman blew his previous horn, green mist filling the air.

The Hunter got up, unsure if he should have even bothered at this point. He didn't have the strength to go on. But he had little choice. Better to try and die than to simply try.

But as he got up, something caught the Hunter's eye. The orc from earlier, the same one that had given him his weapons had climbed into the pit. He calmly walked up to the Hunter and presented him with a bowl with a thick, black liquid inside. Upon smelling it, the Hunter recoiled in revulsion. The orc did not move.

From the tunnels came the roars. Ever angrier, ever fiercer, ever more demonic. The Giganotosaurus came out of the tunnel, its' mouth and legs bound in leather straps, barely loose enough for it to move.

The Hunter's eyes went wide the moment he saw the beast's straps starting to rip and it made sense now to him. He grabbed the bowl from the orc and drank it up in one gulp. The orc let out a sigh and looked up at his shaman, who stared down coldly.

The Hunter barely managed to keep the liquid down. It had the texture of sludge and the taste of bitterness, fish and salt. It didn't take long before his heart started beating faster and he started sweating. The orc observed the Hunter with understanding and acceptance.

The Hunter soon began shaking and his skin's colour changed to a light blue, while his back, chest, arms and legs expanded, almost doubling in size. The Hunter could barely hold his focus. He could barely sit still. He felt angry. Mad. Livid. The moment he saw the orc by his side move, he struck. He punched him straight in the gut, feeling muscle and tissue tear around his arm.

He took out his fist from the dead orc and turned towards the dinosaur and charged at it. The beast managed to break its' bindings and roared at the Hunter, charging him from the other side.

The Hunter saw no danger, felt no exhaustion. He only saw red and felt only the longing for blood.

As both fighters were about to meet, the Hunter once again used a corpse to better towards his foe, managing to crash onto the beast's head. The impact caused the dinosaur fall, smashing onto the ground. The Hunter, ready to perform a finishing strike, jumped once more, but the animal spun around and slammed him with full force, sending him flying against a wall. The beast flipped on its' feet and ran. The Hunter, undeterred, grabbed one of the many carcasses lying around and managed to lift it above his head and throw it at the monster's feet, causing it to trip and loose balance.

The Hunter jumped, ready to try once more to smash its' head. This time the dinosaur opened its' mouth, trying to swallow the Hunter whole. And the Hunter fell into the beast's maw, but the creature couldn't close its jaws.

The Hunter stood tall and proud inside the mouth of the devil, arms and legs extended, keeping the dinosaur from closing its mouth. And with one push, there came a crack and the lower jaw fell loose, dislocated. The Hunter grabbed his foe's tongue, driving his fingers deep into it, and jumped out, pulling it out, ripping it out of the beast's skull.

Unable to roar or bite, the creature tried swiping at the Hunter, who dodged effortlessly, spun around and used the tongue smack the dinosaur at the side of its head with enough force to stun it. The Hunter used this opportunity and ran behind the creature and used the tongue as a make shift rope, throwing it around the dinosaur's neck.

He then pulled. He pulled with all his might, bringing the beast down to the ground. He pulled and pulled, while the dinosaur tried to wriggle away. He pulled as the make shift noose started tearing, but he pressed on. Until finally, the dinosaur had stopped moving.

The crowd cheered and waled, but he paid them no mind.

At this moment, he was alone. Alone in a baren land of corpses, with nothing but his rage as his company. Why had he been brought here? To just fight and kill and slaughter and be slaughtered?

Blood for the entertainment of the masses, watched over by their gods. Was his struggle just the reward for good obedience for all these green-skins?

Or was there something else?

The Hunter stepped forward, sliding his hand across the foot of the beast. The smell of pines was still fresh. There was berries and meat and grasses. This creature was local. And yet it was confined to fight.

But in the wild it would have fought as well. Here the fighting was out in the open, no hiding, no biding for time, no persistence hunting. They were man and best, with all their strengths and weaknesses in one place.

No.

They were more. They were warriors. This place is no prison. It is a temple. And the ritual is theosis through bloodshed.

The winner ascends and losers helps the winner ascend.

The Hunter inhaled deeply the scent of the dinosaur's feet, setting his soul ablaze. He kneeled down before it and started licking it and rubbing his body onto it.

This was his prize for his victory. He could still feel the strength of the beast. A powerful and might energy had flowed through these feet and now it flowed through him as he sucked and licked on them.

He moved back to the Carnotaurus. Her feet had a different essence to them, fast, maneuvering. Deadly in their own right.

He kissed and licked them as the effects of the brew he drank shifted from seething anger to those of burning lust. He kissed and liked, capturing the scent and essence of the beast as much as he could, letting the soul of this once mighty demon preside inside him, give him strength and power.

The orcs watched with odd curiosity as the Hunter ran from dinosaur to dinosaur, prostrating himself at their feet and worshipping them in whatever way he could - licking, rubbing, sucking, rubbing his body on them.

Some orcs found it odd.

Others found it funny.

There were the ones who found is arousing.

And among those, there were orcs who even began to openly masturbate at the sight. The champion, who sley devils, was now kneeling and debasing himself in front of the corpses of his former foes. The found the humiliation exquisite.

The shaman stared on from above with cold eyes, as the Hunter was nearing complete exhaustion, and turned towards the warchief. The warchief looked over the Hunter and his people and thought over a few things and looked back at the shaman. The exchanged silent, knowing glances.

They had work to do, but for now, they would let their people have their fun with their new hero. Although hero may not be the proper word. What kind of hero spreads himself on the feet on his dead prey with such infantile glee?

Well, they were soon to understand.