The Orc remained silent, caught in the act of hefting his axe and slaying his aggressor by the very gods themselves. Slowly his hand fell, his jaw dropped, even for one as old and tested as him he barely maintained his composure.

[I]A quest… for the gods themselves? Such a story it would make, my name will be remembered.[/i]

And then the light was gone, and darkness filled the void. Shadow was the void. 

Norak had no time to react as he was launched full-bodily away from the centre of the point, collapsing in a heap some distance down the hill, his armour cracking loudly against stone. If not for the padding, he could have been grievously wounded, instead he jumped to his feet roaring in anger, his axe still clutched tight in his grasp. 

The Orc was once again struck dumb as a dragon launched itself at the shadowy evil which had made its presence known to them, a naïve hope in his heart. Even he felt the slight twinge of fear as the dragon was cruelly murdered, its corpse splattering to the ground at his feet. He swallowed once.

“I am Norak! I do not fear you!” He shouted, ensuring that should he die those here would at least be able to tell of his passing as he charged the Necromancer, a death worthy of an Orcish warchief.

He threw his axe, watching it glide through the air towards the dark hovering figure even as it concluded its grim prediction of the adventurer’s fate. Norak was sure the axe would land. 

And then the Necromancer was gone. The axe sailed through open air and plunked into the ground, sinking deep into the soil as a testament to the strength of the one who threw it. Norak drew his blade with his empty right hand, and looked around intently. Provided the human knight he had been hunting for his bounty was within ear shot, he would give him a piercing glare.

“It seems like our fight stays on hold.” The Orc barked, his voice now marked by an excited inflection. This was the first time the Orc was facing a challenge worthy of him, and the thought made his blood race.