Orcs of the Red Blade

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Come, little Orc. What have you to lose, hm?

Nosh'marak stepped further in to the cave, waving his makeshift torch around. Cold stone walls decorated with various feathers and bones closed him in, leading him in only one direction. Forward.

I wonder, why did you refuse?

He shook his head, grunting at the echoing voice. Nothing would stop him, not when he had just escaped. He'd just lost his hook, now simply armed with the blade covering up his stumped hand.

My little birds have whispered, told me of your prowess in the arena... I wonder if it was worth it?

Nosh would not let himself be swayed as he strode on, the light from his torch creeping over the stone walls; getting thinner and thinner.

"I see... Light..."

He stepped out of the stone corridor, paying witness to a great sight. Generations upon generations work had formed this cave, that much he knew. Trees once green had gone black, bushes once flourishing turned to ash. Amidst all this dead wildlife, right in the middle, was a pool.

Welcome to my sanctum, Dear Nosh'marak.

The few strims of light from the surface gathered at one place, all touching an Orc. It was a beautiful woman, with long, purple hair. Clad in stunning black fur-lined robes and a thick leather hood, she made for an impressive figure. The woman waved her hand around, looking in to Nosh's eyes.

My, my. Aren't you a rough one.

"Why have you lead me here, exiled witch of the Bleeding Hollow? Do you not know death when you stare right at it?!"

The woman laughed, licking her lips.

Oh dear, I think you've misunderstood. It's you, who is staring at death.

She laughed once more, crouching down and sweeping a bowl through the green pool.

Come now stranger, have a sip of destiny.