The air at the front gates of the dungeon was a maelstrom of steel and fury. A one-armed orc, a hulking figure with a great axe, was engaged in a ferocious battle against two armored skeleton guards.
The orc's muscles bunched and strained with every swing, and his weapon, a massive, two-handed axe, was wielded with terrifying speed and force in his single arm. Beastkin onlookers watched from a safe distance, their expressions a mix of fear and disgust as they stared at the enraged orc, Schalezusk. To the beastkins, seeing an orc was that one of racial disgust and hate against them, after their race pillaged so many villages.
The two skeleton guards, armed with polished tower shields and sharp spears, stood their ground with unyielding discipline. Schalezusk roared, delivering a horizontal slash with his axe, but the guards simply raised their shields. The sheer force of the blow sent a jarring vibration through the stone ground, yet the skeletons were only slightly moved.
