The forest floor shuddered with the pounding feet and guttural roars of monsters. Branches snapped and tore as hulking figures crashed through the undergrowth, their heavy breathing cutting through the cold night air. The monstrous sounds were punctuated by their low, rumbling laughter—a sound filled with pure, wicked joy. Vaunn ran, his gray cloak snapping at his heels, his two subordinates keeping pace on either side.
Even with all of their training, Vaunn could feel the shadows closing in. The demonic orcs didn't seem to tire. They didn't pace themselves. They were simply hunters, released from the depths of hell itself, relentless and without mercy.
This is bad, Vaunn thought, his jaw tight as the ground blurred beneath him. This is really bad.
