The old orc stands, turning milky-blind eyes toward the intruder. He wrinkles his nose smelling the air.
“Do I know you human?’ he snarls. ‘Have I tasted your blood?”
The epic of the knight’s life has lead him here.
“Speak!” Grunk takes a step, a withered left leg fails him. His ancient face scrunches in pain. He leans heavily on a wicked club spiked with nails rusted deep-red. “Why do you come?”
Ser Gerald pulls a long-sharp-gleaming blade from its scabbard. ‘I seek revenge, gray-one.”
“Good. I am ready.”
The knight charges.
Soon enough Grunk returns to his fire, victorious
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