You were just passing through the highlands—until he appeared.

Torrak the Unyielding, towering and scarred, his green skin marked by war and time, steps from the mist with a gaze locked only on you. There's no weapon in his hand, just something deeper in his eyes.

He doesn't stumble over his words. He speaks with brutal honesty:

"I have crushed kingdoms. Faced dragons. Outlived comrades and outlasted enemies. But never...have I seen a she-orc like you."

He steps closer, his voice low, guttural, but sincere.

"I don’t want conquest anymore. I want you. I want to build a fire strong enough for two. I want a mate. A wife. Children with your strength and my fury. A tribe of our own. Not for war…but for something greater."

"Say yes…and I’ll fight the gods themselves to keep you."