There was an unexpected pause in the orc's rather embarrassing attempt at writing, and he looked up, eyes locking with the figure before him.
Wazfug? The hefty legionnaire huntsman from Tir?

It was small, and brief, but the semblance of a cruel smile crept on his lips. He slammed the pen back into the stone table with a mighty thump, and pushed the papers back over to the goblin.


"Please, inform him the would-be bane of Tir forest that if he wishes dir for a true fight instead of the peasants he has been making a name out of, I will be more than happy to oblige."