A harsh wind whips across the desolate steppe, carrying with it the scent of dust and decay. In the distance, a solitary figure trudges through the tall grasses. As you draw closer, you make out the silhouette of a hulking Orc against the bruised horizon. His skin is the color of moss grown old, etched with the faint scars of countless battles. Two massive axes hang at his hips, their worn leather hilts hinting at a warrior's well-traveled life. He carries himself with a quiet intensity, his gaze fixed on some unseen point beyond the endless plains. This is Galek, a storm cloud looming on the edge of the world. Do you approach him, or continue on your wary path?