The jungle of Vorgoth was a place where light dared not linger, where the twisted roots of ancient trees clawed at the earth like the fingers of buried giants. It was a land soaked in mystery and blood, where the very air seemed to breathe with the whispers of forgotten gods. Deep within this primeval forest, where the shadows grew thick and heavy, lived the Shadowclaw clan, a tribe of mighty gorillas who had long ruled these haunted lands. At their head was a leader feared and revered in equal measure — a being of unmatched ferocity and cunning known as Phonk Kong.

On this night, as the moon was devoured by an unnatural shadow, the jungle held its breath. The Blood Eclipse had begun, a rare celestial event when the moon turned a deep crimson, and the boundaries between the world of the living and the realm of the gods blurred. For the Shadowclaw, this was not merely a natural phenomenon; it was an omen, a sign that the gods demanded tribute, and that tribute would be paid in blood.

Phonk Kong stood at the edge of a high cliff, overlooking the sprawling territory of the Ironfang clan, a rival clan that had grown too bold, too powerful. His massive form was silhouetted against the blood-red sky, his black fur blending into the surrounding darkness.

He was a giant among his kind, his body a mass of rippling muscle and scarred flesh, each mark a testament to the countless battles he had fought and won. His eyes, however, were what set him apart — they glowed with an unnatural light, a fiery red that burned with the intensity of a thousand suns. This was the gift of Malgor the Fleshweaver, the dark god of bloodlust and sacrifice, who had marked Phonk Kong as his chosen warrior.

The wind whispered through the trees, carrying with it the faintest scent of fear. The Ironfang clan were unaware of the fate that awaited them,...CONTINUE & LISTEN to the WHOLE AUDIOBOOK on Spotify.

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