The Age of Blood and Fire
It was a shameful thing to do for Verran, it was a shameful thing for an orc to do, to run like this. And though it made his blood boil, his instincts, even his own bodyguards knew what was best and had urged him to run away, as through living, he would be able to preserve Orsis and it's people. So, he ran with sword in hand, he ran away leaving his men to be cut down like animals by the people who had ambushed them. At first, he thought that these people might have belonged to the races that were unhappy with orcs rule over them, however, among the assassins he had seen many of his own folk cut down by other orcs without any sort of remorse towards their fellows, and now they were chasing him like hunters chasing a wounded animal.
Verran entered the throne room of his castle and slammed the doors shut. The throne room itself, unlike many other castles of it's age, did not have many lavish decorations. Even the throne itself was a large simple stone seat standing at the head of the room atop some stairs. The only sort of decoration the throne room had was the large obsidian egg placed on a large stone pedestal in the middle of the room for all to see. It was said that this egg was the only remnant of the great dragon Mivo, the terror that had nearly ended the world centuries ago. And now, even if the egg itself was unable to hatch, the prestige that came with owning this egg, a bit of the draconic terror of centuries ago was immense.
However, the barren obsidian egg was the last thing on Verran's mind. In the distance, there was no longer the clangor of steel, but the stomping of boots as his assassins began to move in. Fine, if this was his end, then he would die fighting like a true warrior, with sword in hand and a grin on his face as he mowed down as many of his enemies as he could.
The first man to enter was a human warrior of some sorts wearing an exotic weapon and using an equally exotic weapon. This warrior, however did not even have time to react before Verran's sword was buried halfway through his skull, ending his life nearly instantly. The second assassin to enter the room was just that, some sort of hooded man, wearing a cloak and using two short swords as his weapons. He could not see if he was human, elven or otherwise, but Verran did not care as the man's life did not last that long either as he stumbled for a moment in an attempt to dodge one of the orcish monarch's slashes, this stumble cost the man his head, blood gushing out from his neck as he fell down to the floor.
This continued for a few more minutes with more than half a dozen assassins meeting their grisly end at his hands. In his bloodrage, Verran let out a bloodcurdling roar as he was covered in the blood of his enemies. With this roar, the assassins looked at one another and left, slamming the doors to the throne room, probably realizing that fighting him like this was not wise. For a moment, Verran looked confused. Had he been able to beat the assassins back, had be been able to thwart this attempt on his life?
However, as he pondered that, he sniffed the air and felt the smell of fire. As he placed his hands on the door to his throne room and saw it was blocked, the orcish monarch realized what had just happened, he was now stuck here, to be burned alive. He roared once more, enraged at what was happening, but unable to do anything to escape, unable to fight anyone, he would die this most dishonorable death.
In his rage, Verran started slamming his sword at the thick doors in a fruitless attempt to break them as flames began to engulf the room. However, what he failed in realizing now was that his salvation did not rest with through the door, but in the obsidian egg that was now resting behind him.
And then, from behind him came a crack.