The scene was a blur of frantic movement and hushed, fearful whispers as the orc clans emerged from the catacombs.
It was as if the weight of the Warlock's dark presence still clung to them, heavy and oppressive.
Even the sight of the massive crystal Volk carried on his back went ignored.
Normally, such a prize would have been cause for wild celebrations, for the Dreadmaw to boast and taunt their rivals. But not today.
Today, there was no victory in the air—only fear.
The Bloodfang and Ironhide clans were already dispersing, their leaders speaking in hurried tones, organizing their own plans.
The Dreadmaw clan did the same.
There was no time to waste.
Their victory over another orc tribe paled in comparison to the larger, more terrifying reality: a Warlock had appeared in the Catacomb.
That meant only one thing—danger, and lots of it.
