Danath Trollbane saw the bodies of the two Wildhammer Dwarves and their gryphons, and his eyes grew slightly moist.
There was almost no undamaged flesh left on the two dwarves or their mounts... except on their faces.
The orcs' "attacks" seemed to have narrowly avoided their faces, leaving their expressions of agony and suffering intact.
"A strange kind of magic!" The mage examining the bodies looked up. "Completely different from the magic the warlocks used before, but just as astonishingly powerful!"
There was no anger or any other expression on Khadgar's face. Instead, he was unusually calm.
He laid down the dwarf's remains and said quietly, "We will avenge them!"
With that, a powerful tongue of flame burst from the tip of his staff, burning the two dwarves and their gryphons to ashes.
Watching the burning flames, Danath nodded solemnly.
"What was that sound?" Suddenly, he jerked his head up, as though he had heard something strange.
He quickly stood and ran toward the source of the sound.
Khadgar followed close behind, looking in that direction.
A dozen or so human warriors had surrounded something.
It was a big fellow who was difficult to deal with, and even a dozen soldiers could do nothing against him... Several soldiers had been knocked to the ground, but he had clearly held back, as they had suffered only minor injuries.
"Everyone, stop!" Danath shouted.
He had realized that this was not an orc, but a member of a completely unfamiliar race.
The stranger was tall, with skin of a pleasant pale blue; an aristocratic air radiated from him. His robes were very worn, and a pair of hooves and a tail protruded beneath them.
This was a strange creature.
At Danath's command, the soldiers gradually drew back.
The creature spoke, his voice