Farrago sits in the Library of Ettlemont, and the walls shake with sounds of battle. Errant arrows smash through windows, sprinkling glass down onto the stone floors. He covers his head with the bag in his hand, books inside hitting him in the face. Farrago recoils, holding his eye a moment, before another arrow splinters against the wall. He resumes rifling through the books before him, throwing the occasional item inside. His purposeful movements carry him deep into the library, and into his residence.

Standing beside his bed, Farrago hears the door of library explode inward. Shards of wood are thrust past his open door, and a heavy footfall fills the stone rooms. Farrago freezes, eyes trained on the doorway. A heavy shadow creeps forward, lit by the siege filling the chasm of Ettlemont. He begins to crouch, tucking the books under his head. Move footfalls, slow and methodic. The shadows head surveying the room, two tusks protruding from its face.

The massive orc moves into Farrago’s view. Filling the doorway with it’s height, and the breadth of its well shaped shoulders, Farrago gasps at the site. Corded muscles ripple across it’s body as it sees Farrago kneeling in fear, and a cruel smile forms tight around the pair of long tusks protruding from the lower jaw. Moving to stand overtop Farrago, the creature looks down. His bandoleer filled with oddities lays across his bare chest and stopping on his hip where the massive curved blade resides. Reaching down, its clawed hand wraps around Farrago’s neck, sharpened nails biting in to the soft skin at the back of his neck. Farrago’s feet come off the ground, with no strain being shown on the face of the monster.

“They’ve been looking for you.” It growls. Its breath is rancid like aged milk and rotting meat. Steps hasten back out of the door and into the frey outside.