(Rögdûl the Black, Mid-Day, Fortress of Gloria on the Outskirts of Praelium)

	Both warhorses stopped; the thick, black Orc armor hugged the Chief's otherworldly muscular body tight. On his back was [i]Shakatrog[/i], the tribal warsword. From head-to-toe, Rögdûl resembled a massive Roman centurion, though his armor left few soft spots and was thick enough that any sword which attempted to get past its defenses would be rebuffed, miserably. In the black armor, the Chief looked as though he stood seven feet instead of the mere 6'9 he actually was.
	Next to him was Nehrakghu, clad in little else but some brown robes and a quirky pointed hat that made him look like Gandalf. Both men departed their warhoses, who were also clad in heavy black orcish armor, though the horses themselves looked abnormal--they were twice the size of normal horses and didn't seem to be slowed down by all the armor they wore. Everything about the orcs and the horses was different.
	Rögdûl made his approach to the edge of the fortress, where he waited and expected to be met by some liason--or a hail of arrows, whichever came first.