Trouble...
Adam's eyes darted across the dozens of orcs glaring at him, his heart and veins throbbing beneath his human skin.
"A-Adomash? What's—" Zul'Gora stuttered, the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes deepening.
A warrior cut her off, the blade of his axe glinting beneath the moon and his charge thundering on the cobblestones. "A human infiltrated our capital. Shame on you for bringing him here!"
The other warriors followed, shrill sounds of metal slicing the night's cold air. Their weapons would be on Adam in two seconds. No time to think, but one thing was sure: the warriors weren't to decide his fate. He raised his arms.
"Don't—" Zul'Gora erupted into a worried shriek, only to be silenced when Adam crossed his arms over his chest dismissively and Zul'Rakhan commanded.
"No one moves!" The old shaman struck the ground, his voice like sandpaper on dry bark. The eye sockets of the bestial skull adorning his staff flashed red.
