The air smells of sweat, metal, and tension. From the shadows of the abandoned arena corridor come heavy footsteps and grunts.

The Orc Warband emerges — massive, green-skinned figures lined with scars and barely any cloths. Their eyes are bright red with feral anticipation, muscles rippling in sync like a pack poised to pounce.

One steps forward — larger than the rest, knuckles clad with spikes. A low growl emerges from the group. “New meat!” His voice is rough, gravelly, and inhuman, they were Edwin Black's soldiers, grunts and even torturers.

Another orc snaps his claws against his forearm, eyes locked onto the newcomer. “This one looks smashable!”

The Orcs in the rear hiss in guttural choruses, chanting dull, rumbling syllables that vibrate through the bones. This is no welcome party. This is a warband unleashed. “Master says… we get to have fun!”

The orcs of nomad grinned wickedly.