"Well, looks like the main course has arrived," the ogre chuckled at the sight of the black-armored warrior. Sensing the murderous intent emanating from this one, the ogre couldn't help but lick his lips as his instincts screamed that he was facing a powerful opponent; and that filled him with joy. "Enzo Lareneg, I presume! I've been looking forward to meeting you, Captain of the Royal Guard! And damn it, it looks like you live up to your title! Although, you know, I thought you'd be taller."
"Triven!" shouted Enzo. His voice, charged with murderous rage, echoed beneath his helmet. He showed no sign of surprise at the realization that the creature before him could speak his language, for such a thing was irrelevant to him. Instead, his eyes focused on the wounded old ranger the creature was holding like a sack of hay. "Triven, are you all right?"
"Cough...Enzo...cough," Triven tried to speak clearly, but all that came out of his lips was a faint mumble and a bloody cough.
