The battlefield was a tempest of chaos and fury. The storm overhead roared like a beast, lightning splitting the sky as rain lashed down in torrents. In the heart of this maelstrom stood two figures—Canna, the Harbinger of Storms, and Grakthar the Ravager, leader of the orc horde and a Disaster Rank powerhouse. Their eyes locked, each measuring the other, knowing this was not a fight that would end quickly or easily.
Grakthar's massive frame, built from countless battles and victories, towered over Canna. His green skin gleamed with sweat and rain, muscles rippling as he hefted his warhammer, Bonecruncher. Every movement of his hulking form radiated raw power. His eyes burned with a savage fury, and his lips curled into a menacing grin, revealing jagged teeth. The scars crisscrossing his body told tales of endless battles, each one a badge of honor. His presence was intimidating, a dark cloud of malevolence that seemed to swallow the light.
