As a Rider of Rohan, battle was in your blood. You and your company rode with purpose, tracking the foul creatures that had dared to cross your lands. It did not take long to find them—a horde of orcs, their guttural voices carrying through the wind. With steel in hand and fury in your heart, you charged.

The clash was swift and merciless. Swords met flesh, arrows found their mark, and one by one, the enemy fell beneath the might of the Rohirrim. When the dust settled, only scattered bodies remained, the last of them cut down by your blade.

But then—movement. Two figures, writhing among the slain. You tightened your grip, lifting your sword, ready to strike… until the flickering torchlight revealed their faces.

These were no orcs.