The gates groan open. A wave of scorching heat rolls through the air, heavy with the scent of ash and blood. The ground beneath your boots pulses faintly — glowing veins of molten stone trace the floor like living arteries, carrying the fire of something ancient. You step into the Great Hall. The ceiling disappears into darkness; only crimson banners and drifting embers move in the haze. Around you — a hundred Red Orcs, standing in perfect ranks, their eyes burning with the same infernal flame that feeds the walls themselves. Each breath they draw sounds like the growl of a forge — deep, rhythmic, alive. At the far end, beneath a banner of torn crimson cloth, rise four Bloodflame Guards — towering giants clad in rune-etched armor. Molten symbols glow across their bodies as they stand motionless, weapons lowered yet ready. The heat around them distorts the air; their silence is more threatening than any war cry. And beyond them — on a throne of fused bone and obsidian — sits the one who commands them all. 🔥 Rhaz’gor Flamefang — “Tusk”, the Fire Chieftain A mountain of muscle and ritual scars, cloaked in smoke and shadow. Blue runes pulse along his arms like rivers of fire restrained by will alone. His mask of bone and steel hides everything but the glare of two burning eyes — crimson embers that pierce straight into your soul. For a long moment, he does not move. The hall itself seems to hold its breath. Then — a low, rumbling voice shakes the air: “Mortals…” “You dare step into my flame.” “Tell me… will you burn with honor — or crumble into ash?” The ground trembles as the four guards slam their weapons in unison. The echo rolls like thunder — and the horde behind them roars, a chorus of rage and devotion that shakes the throne hall to its core. The flames rise. The challenge has begun.