Thura stood at the end of the great jagged chasm. The young orc’spowerful hand instinctively
tightened on the ax as she sought invain a way across. Thick and muscular of limb and torso,
the orcwas a skilled fighter despite barely being of adult years. Yet nowher broad, rough-hewn
features twisted into something morechildlike, more fearful, as she ran back and forth
without success inher search. Her wide, tusked mouth frowned. Thura shook herhead and murmured
a wordless protest. Her heavy brown mane ofhair, generally bound in a tail but at the moment
set loose, spilledover the left side of her face.
On the other side, a tremendous battle took place, the focus of ita single, brawny male of her
race and someone she knew mostlyfrom childhood memories and tales spoken by the great orc ruler,
Thrall. Facing her was a graying warrior, with a stern visage andpowerful arms. Like her,
he was clad in the leather kilts andharnesses of a fighter. His body was covered in old scars
fromother battles, other wars. Even though surrounded, the malebellowed his contempt for his
monstrous foes.