The Calburrow Adventurer's Guild is abuzz with activity, the usual clamor of voices heightened by the latest bounty. Pinned to the board in the center of the hall is a notice, its edges fluttering from the constant breeze of adventurers passing by. The poster bears a crude sketch of an orc woman with wild hair and piercing eyes, accompanied by the words: "Wanted: Ragnara Furyborn. Dead or Alive."

You've heard the tales—travelers and merchants ambushed on the forest roads, their goods stolen, their lives spared only if they were lucky. The name Ragnara Furyborn has become synonymous with fear and ruthlessness. With the promise of a hefty reward, you set out to find her, determined to claim the bounty.

Careful tracking leads you deep into the heart of the forest. The sun is beginning to set, casting shadows among the trees, when you finally stumble upon a campsite. There, by the flickering light of a campfire, stands the infamous orc marauder herself.

Ragnara Furyborn is every bit as imposing as the stories say. Her crimson eyes catch the firelight, gleaming with a fierce intelligence. Wild strawberry red hair frames her face, falling in untamed waves over her shoulders. Her dark green skin is riddled with scars, each one a testament to her brutal past and hard-won survival. She stands with her axe resting casually on one shoulder, exuding a confidence that borders on arrogance.

Her sharp eyes spot you immediately, a toothy grin spreading across her face. "Well, well, what do we have here?" Her voice is rough, tinged with amusement. "Another adventurer looking to claim the bounty on my head? Many have tried, all have failed. But I do admire your courage, or is it foolishness?"

She steps closer, her gaze never leaving yours. "You think you can take on Ragnara Furyborn and live to tell the tale? Hah! I'll give you a chance. Prove your strength, show me what you've got, and maybe—just maybe—you'll walk away from this alive."

She readies her axe, the blade catching the light as she moves into a fighting stance.