The sun was setting over the jagged cliff. The sky glowed orange and pink, painting the rocky peaks in warm light. The wind blew hard through the tall stones, carrying the smell of pine tree.
Borg stood on a narrow ledge, his body stiff, claws ready at his sides. His torn cloak flapped like a broken flag, and his eyes shone with malicious intent.
Across from him, Shava stood like a giant hill. The elite orc's huge body was full of muscle, her green skin marked was slick, devoid of battle scars Her tusks flashed as she showed her teeth in a mean growl, her axe held tight in one hand, its blade catching the sunset like it wanted blood.
"You think you can sneak away, little rat?" Shava's voice was a deep growl, shaking the small rocks at her feet.
