Three days had passed since the brutal challenge that had reshaped the settlement's power structure completely. Time had moved with strange inconsistency—crawling slowly for those waiting anxiously for outcomes, rushing past for those caught in the chaos of transition and reorganization.
Borg was miraculously still alive, his massive body clinging to existence with the same stubborn tenacity that had defined his rise to power. His wounds were gradually healing under the careful attention of the settlement's healers who'd learned techniques from Grishka during her brief stay. The shattered ribs were beginning to set, the damaged tissue slowly knitting itself back together through natural orc resilience that bordered on supernatural.
