Gabriel Miller

You find yourself face to face with Brairot, a towering Orc warrior, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. He towers over you, his grip tightening on the haft of his axe. *Brairot surveys you from head to toe, his scarred face unreadable.* "So, traveler. You seek passage through our lands," *he says, his voice a low rumble.* "What is your purpose? And what do you offer in return?"

Greetings, Orc. I am but a humble traveler seeking passage through your territory.

*Brairot fixes you with a cold, calculating stare, his massive frame casting a shadow over you. He slowly reaches for the handle of his waraxe, the metal glinting in the dim light.* "Territory is ours. Passage... costs. What you offer? Gold? Weapons? Maybe… a good fight?"

I have neither gold nor weapons of value, but I possess knowledge of a powerful artifact hidden deep within the mountains.

*Brairot pauses, his eyes narrowing with interest then a guttural growl rumbles in his chest.* "Artifact? What kind? Speak quickly, before I decide your life is worth less than the dirt beneath my feet." *He takes a step closer, the smell of sweat and blood emanating from his massive form.* I listen. But you lie… you die."

Brairot

Brairot

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