"To myself, the will to know weakness and stand among it. To my enemies, a well-fought death at my hand. To the weak, a beacon of hope to grow grow. To the strong, a steady hand to only strike the foul." As his prayer ended, the orc stood and turned towards the exit to the temple only to see another orc, clad in armor, walking towards him.

The armored orc grinned and waved an arm to the praying man. "Draedon," the armored orc burst into a jog and practically pounced on his orc brethren. "What're you doing praying so early in the opening? The atlas hasn't even completely opened.

Despite only being a half-breed between a human and orc, Draedon still stood a few inches above his comrade. Draedon wrapped his friend in a great bear hug and nearly brought him off his feet before letting him go. "Rumak, you know my prayers are the first obligation each Bright."

Rumak let out a hearty laugh, slapped Draedon on the back and started towards the exit. "Oh well, prayer or not, I think next on your 'obligation' is the ash pits. I've heard Trilug is challenging Champion Kharzug."

Draedon raised a brow as he followed Rumak out of the temple. He was immediately met with the sound of rambunctious laughter and shouting.

Before him was his tribe, Birdukh Ker. Formerly a group of savage orcs of Gruumsh, many had been converted to worship of Tirian, a god of challenge and combat. However,

Rumak grabbed Draedon by the neck of his shirt and practically dragged him down the dirt path.

That never stopped the orcs from being orcs; craving battle beyond much else.

Around them were several buildings. Some were made of stone, such as a forge and the temple they had just left. Some were made of hide and wood such as the meal-house.

As they walked through the massive encampment Draedon took in the region of the Crags around them.

The tribe of Birdukh Ker rested in the valley between two dormant volcanoes. A mix of dirt and ash covered the ground.

They eventually came to the Ash Pit. A large group of orcs of varying sizes and shades of green surrounded the edges of the pit, obscuring Draedon's view. Nonetheless, him and Rumak began to politely push their way through.

"Comin' through. Son of a champion is looking to watch the fight." Rumak shouted, lightly pushing aside some of the smaller orcs to reach the railing of the Ash Pit.

The Ash Pit, as its name implied, was a large circular pit dug about 10 down through dirt and stone. At its bottom was a layer of ash that was periodically shoveled into the pit when it got too shallow, or bloody, to properly fight in. At the edges of the pit, along its walls, were several weapon racks filled with all variety of axes, spears, and blades. Their edges were kept sharp enough to draw blood but not so much so as to cause serious injury. Though with nearly half of Birdukh Ker having some faint form of divine healing, they weren't any major issue.

At the bottom of the Pit were two orcs. Both wore little in terms of armor, primarily just cloth and hide. Though the shorter of the two did don an iron helm. The smaller of the two orcs was a male with faint scars across his arms and back. He wielded a sword and shield with the faint engraving of an iron fist holding a scale on the shield's front. The larger orc was a woman. Her face was slightly wrinkled with small flicks of grey hair mingled with her otherwise dark locks. She wielded nothing more then a greathammer whose head was nearly the size of the smaller orc's helm.

"It's been some time since I've seen my mother fight." Draedon exclaimed. He set his hands on the stone railing and leaned forward to rest on them as the two combatants circled each other.

Suddenly, an orc at the edge of the pit leapt up to stand atop the railing at the edge of pit. His voice rang through the air with magical force. "It is not everyday that a new champion is named in the glory of Tirian. But today could be one of those days."

The crowd roared out in applause, some more literal then others.

The orc atop the railing continued. "Today, wielding his favored weapon of a sword and shield is: Trilug Eyetaker."

The crowd roared once again.

"And the champion he is trying to usurp, wielding her favored warhammer: Kharzug Bonecrusher."

Another roar from the crowd followed his words. Above all was Kharzug herself who bellowed louder than the entire audience.

"Now," the announcer continued. "For the glory of both Tirian and Birdukh Ker, may a new champion be cast away or crowned."

With those final words, the announcer descended back into the crowd and the fight began.

The first move was made by the smaller of the two orcs: Trilug. He rushed forward, clearing the distance between them in only a few steps. Next he thrust his sword forward, only for it to be knocked to the side by the handle of Kharzug's hammer. Still, Trilug shot his other arm forward, attempting to ram the edge of his shield into Kharzug's chest. However the champion simply grabbed the shield in her free hand before slamming her head into Trilug's.

The male orc was sent stumbling back a step before a foot impacted the center of his chest, sending him flying backwards nearly 10 feet before skidding to a halt in the ash. He quickly got back to his feet, ash now sticking to his bare skin.

This time Kharzug dashed forward; more leapt forward, clearing the distance in a single large bound. She raised her hammer above her head and swung down. Trilug began to raise his shield, but opted for the wiser decision- in Draedon's eyes- of dodging to the side.

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As the hammer impacted the ground a cloud of ash erupted from the impact, filling half the pit with a layer of black smoke.

Despite the obscured area, the fight continued. Kharzug altered the grip on her hammer, shifting her hands close to the head, before ramming the end of the handle into Trilug's chest.

The orc was once again sent flying into the edge of the pit. He collided with a rack of spears, some of which outright snapped from he force of an orc barreling into them.

He quickly held his shield up as he saw the orc champion running towards him. She swung down with her hammer as another explosion of ash erupted from the ground, even larger than the previous.

For several seconds, there was silence across the Ash Pit as the crowd waiting for the cloud to clear. There was no roar of the ground, nor the clashing of weapons.

The crowd only erupted into roars again once they saw the conclusion.

Trilug sat against the wall, shield raised over his head. He was relatively unharmed. Between his legs was the head of Kharzugh's hammer. A full foot of ash around the hammer had been thrown away, revealing the rare sight of earth beneath them.

The champion smirked at Trilug as she lifted her hammer onto her shoulder. "Better luck next cycle, Eyetaker."

***

"My boy!" Kharzug leapt off the wall of the pit and vaulted over the stone railing. Rumak had to quickly step away to avoid being crushed by the orc as she landed. Kharzug wrapped her arms around Draedon and hugged him, lifting him a good foot off the ground before setting him down.

Kharzug was a large, even by orc standards. She stood nearly 8 foot tall with shoulders twice the size of most other orcs. Deep scars littered her torso, some seeming to have went through her entire body while other seemed to have been little more then a flesh wound. There was one more notable scar of what looked like teeth marks from her neck curving downward to part way across her side. Draedon had heard the story a hundred times. The story of how his mother, many years before having met his father, single handedly slew a young dracolich somewhere within the Crags, hence how she'd gotten her title: Bonecrusher.

"H-hello mother." Draedon croaked as his mother threatened to crush his ribs. He was only able to take a breath when he felt the ground under his feet.

"Thanks for showing up to Trilug's challenge." Kharzug said as she slammed a palm into her son's back.

Rumak set a hand on Draedon's shoulder. "He only got here 'cause of me. He was doin' his whole 'worship' thing."

The champion's face turned to Rumak, her smiling face replaced with a scowl. "You interrupted my son's prayers?"

Rumak took a step back and recoiled. "N-no ma'am."

Draedon chuckled and stepped between the two. "It was after my prayers mother. He had just met me at the temple."

As if flipping a switch, Kharzug's face changed to a smile again and she wrapped an arm around each of the two orcs. "Anywho, how'd you young boys like to spend the day? Maybe some tussle in the ash pits? A feast to celebrate my victory," she shook Draedon. "You need food in your gut if I had to guess."

"I think I have an idea," a voice shouted above the champion. As the crowd thinned an old man stepped forward. His eyes were partly sunken into his face and his skin was wrinkled. A mix of grey and brown hair dotted his head and chin. He wore fine clothes matted in ash. In his neck hung a thin golden chain with the emblem of a fist holding a scale: the mark of Tirian.

"Honey!" Kharzug dropped both of the orcs in her arms and stepped towards the old man and embraced him, needing to kneel down to do so.

"Hey champion Liam." Rumak waved a hand.

The old man nodded to the orc warrior, then to Draedon. "Draedon, Uloth is requesting you."

Draedon knit his brows. "Why so father?"

Kharzug released her husband as he stepped forward towards his son. "She has had another vision. It was about you. According to her, it was quite vivid. She had told me it involved you obtaining your title, but she refuses to speak any more without your ear."

Draedon, Kharzug, and Rumak each exchanged glances.

"Well?" Rumak looked to Draedon.

Draedon cleared his throat. "I suppose we shall hear her out."

***

Uloth was housed in one of the smaller tents at the edges of the tribe camp. Contrary to all other around it, her tent was made of large bones with runes no one but herself understood. Hanging from bits of the hide that made up the tent were various herbs and crystals, many of which had no home in the Crags.

As Draedon, Liam, and Kharzug entered they saw Uloth and a large orc- rivaling the size of Kharzug- speaking.

Uloth was frail. Her deep green skin was wrinkled. Her eyes were milk white and lacked any sclera. In her hand was a staff of spindled wood with an opened tome atop it. She wore torn and dirty robes that had surly belonged to a respected mage once.

The other orc however was seldom seen within the camp itself. The leader of Birdukh Ker: Gorlag War-render.

Gorlag, in terms of typical orcs, seemed like nothing too special at first. He was slightly taller and broader than the average orc. To any who hadn't fought Gorlag firsthand, nor knew of his legend, his strength would have ended there. While the accuracy of the story had been cast into question, most of Birdukh Ker believed he formed the tribe, and gained the name, after leading a rebellion against another savage orc tribe ten times their size. Supposedly Gorlag has cut the former war chief down the middle in a single attack.

Regardless of the legends however, he was here now.

Seeing the new occupants step into her tent Uloth turned her white eyes to Draedon. "Ah, Draedon. Thank you Liam for bringing him as I'd asked."

She stepped forward and grabbed Draedon's face with a wrinkled hand. She turned his head and looked at every spot on his face like a mother would a child. "Yes.... yes that is correct." She mumbled to herself.

"Uloth, what exactly did you see about my son?" Liam set a hand on the frail orc's shoulder.

"Yes yes... my vision." Uloth quickly- rather, as quickly as she could- shambled to a stone table at the edge of her tent and began taking things from several bowls scattered about it. She began to mix the random materials into an empty bowl with her hands.

As Draedon stepped forward to see what Uloth was mixing together, the old orc spun around and tossed a multi-colored power into his face.

Draedon coughed a few times while trying to wave the remnants of powder away from his face.

Uloth flipped a page of the time atop her staff as the unknown words began to glow. "There is a spark within your heart Draedon. A spark of light that can burn into an inferno." She bellowed. "I saw your legend before it was made. I saw the fragments of three gods. I saw you wielding a weapon that can either save this world, or shatter it." As she spoke the words began to peal themselves from her book and float around Draedon. "I see you alongside a harbinger. No.... two. Yourself being a third."

Liam stepped forward, into the swirling mass of words. "Harbingers of what Uloth?"

Uloth looked around at the words swirling around the tent. "The Omen."

Liam, Gorlag, and Kharzug exchanged glances.

"The Omen of the Twelve." Uloth continued her breath beginning to deepen. Sweat began to bead down her wrinkled skin. "T-the twelve shadows... w-will.... bring..." Suddenly, the floating words began to shake and pulse a deep purple before flying back into the tome. Uloth fell to her knees, grasping her staff with both hands. Uloth was about to speak, but instead she gagged and doubled other before a thick liquid spewed from her mouth onto the ground; blood.

Quickly, Draedon and Liam came to the other orc's aid. Both their hand's began to glow faintly as Uloth slowly regained her composure. She grasped onto the edge of Draedon's chainmail. "The Plains. Go to the plains. Go to the Grove. That is where your legend will start."