Night had barely lifted when the first scream tore through the fallen orcs' camp. From the southern skies came the sound of beating wings ... griffons, twenty-one of them, descending like a blizzard from the heavens. The Griffon Knights of the Baron of Frost had come.
Before the orcs could reach for their weapons, the air itself split with a thunderous cry ... the Baron's voice echoing through the frozen gale. His sceptre, forged from glacial steel, swept in a wide arc, unleashing a storm of razor-edged ice. Tents shredded. Flesh tore. The first ranks of orcs fell screaming as shards of frost pierced through hide and bone alike.
