Behind the warriors forming a circle around the duel ground, Adam watched Zul'Morak fling his house's red cloth. The shaman strode to the center of the circle. With each step, bones scraped against his skull staff, the soft sound enough to drown the festive voices from the crowd in a devout silence.
Zul'Morak's eyes blazed beneath his hood as he struck his staff on the stone ground. "After fifty long years, a cycle ends. Who calls for an end, calls for our ancestral ritual fight!"
The crowd cheered until he closed his fist overhead. Then silence.
"I ask you. Who will cleave his path through the gorge in blood and honor? Who will seize the opportunity to journey toward Thaur'Gorath?"
The crowd chanted, "Kragh Ironjaw!"
"Yes!" Zul'Morak gestured toward the crowd, opposite Adam and the shamans accompanying him. "Our beloved champion who turned the violence of battle into art. Make your voice heard to the undefeated Kragh Ironjaw!"
