Volk narrowed his eyes, stepping closer to the bloodied, laughing form of Kragath.
The other Orcs had fallen silent, their earlier frenzy fading into a tense stillness as they watched their Warchief confront the fallen gladiator.
"What are you talking about, Kragath?" Volk asked, his voice cutting through the quiet like a blade.
Kragath's laughter faltered for a moment, his shoulders shaking as he drew in a wheezing breath. But then it returned, louder, deeper, more manic.
"What…am I talking about?" Kragath rasped, his lips curling into a crimson-streaked grin. His voice was strained, yet it carried an eerie, mocking edge. "What am I talking about?"
He repeated the question, louder this time, the words punctuated by laughter.
"What am I talking about?" he bellowed, his voice cracking but unrelenting. He dragged himself into a half-sitting position, leaning on his battered arms. "Oh, you really don't know, do you? HA! What am I talking about?!"
