Harpy feathers littered the blood stained ground. Surrounding Ghrakraz laid countless hewned bodies, their stench made foul by the burning Barrens sun. The gray haired orc clutched at his side, wincing from the pain that brought him to his knees. He knelt there, steadying his breath while his mind raced numbly. This wound was no ordinary cut. He felt the harpy's poison coursing throughout his veins. His vision began to blacken, the world around him engulfing in shadows. A faint voice whispered into his ears, although he strained to listen. The last thing he saw was the dark silhouette of an orc he thought he recognized. The words barely could leave his mouth before a dagger plunged into his stomach. Ghrakraz gasped, giving his last breath before falling to the floor. The mysterious figure stood over him, wiping his blade on the sleeve of his robe. His demonic minion gleed with laughter before tearing the corpse apart.
The sun had set, and the land fell to shadow. All that was left were bones and flesh.
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