Produktbeschreibung
"No sign of the fugitives, Lord General." The soldier stands at attention, staring straight ahead, out the window, anywhere but at the dark prison that is the Night King's armor.
"Look again." Jahzir places one hand on the hilt of his sword. "Find them. Kill them. Serve me, or I will replace you with one who will."
The soldier salutes, nods, and leaves. Minutes later, his patrol emerges from the stronghold gates, a column of orcs in mail. As they leave, a tiny figure darts unseen through the gates as they swing closed... |