"Lan!" The Orcish blade just scraped the flesh of the young man's shoulder. Taking a step back, he grabbed a throwing knife out of his pocket with his good arm, and threw it square into the Orc's chest. It staggered, fell to its knees, and then collapsed. The orc group that had come upon this man's camp was closing in. They were fighting a losing battle and they just seemed to keep coming. The man was Lanorn Swyftdagger, the infamous rogue of Freeport. The voice that had called to him was Findiil Greybeard, another rogue, of Dwarven decent. The two were lifelong friends that had met long ago, wandering the plains of Karana when Findiil had been mauled to near lifelessness by a pride of lions, however Lanorn had happened to come across them and break it up, along with his companion, Lusk a loyal, Erudian paladin of Mithaniel Marr. They managed to break the lions into confused groups and slowly managed to slay them all. Since then they had become great friends until a fateful day that the trio had been wandering through the Nektulos Forest when a band of Dark Elves had jumped them. Lusk was bound by magic to the ground and struck dead by an arrow. Lanorn and Findiil fought the Tier'dal off as long as they could but eventually had to retreat through the woods until they lost their pursuers. They tried to find the corpse of their friend, but it was nowhere to be seen, and the forest was too dangerous to stick around for long. But at the present the two had been wandering together through the Butcherblok Mountains, when a band of Orcs from the Crushbone stronghold in the Greater Faydark had ambushed their camp, which brings us to the present. The blades of the two rogues felled Orc after orc. Finally, the crowd seemed to be thinning out, when suddenly orc battle cries could be heard, carried over the hills by the wind. They glanced at each other and knew it was hopeless. They turned and started to run up a nearby hill. The orcs followed them, though quite clumsily, being the lumbering creatures that they were. Jumping over boulders and sliding down slopes, they ran from hill to hill, mountain to mountain. This carried on for miles. The rogues were getting tired and could not hold out very much longer. Then out of the night, Lanorn could see some lights ahead. "Fin!" I cried. "Look there, up ahead!" They made their way to the lights and saw what they had hoped to, a storm guard of Kaladim, city of Dwarves, outpost. "Hail, Stormguard!! Orcs approach you from the hills!" called Findiil. The Dwarves raised their heads and looked into the night, catching glimpses of the pair and the torches that marked the locations of the orcs. They ran to their weapons, propped up on the hut they stood guard by, and prepared themselves for the fight. Stormguard warriors were known all over Norrath for their ferocity and weaponry skills. The Orcs, by this time, were nearing the post, and Lanorn could make out their rough voices calling their orders in their crude language, of which he could just barely understand. "For the glory of King Crush! We shall rid our world of these foul creatures!" Then they met, the squad of ten or so stormguard and the two rogues. The sounds of battle could be heard for miles around, and many creatures came to watch from all around. Swords clashed and arrows flew. Orc and Dwarf fell, one after the other. A mace came from in front of Lanorn and he raised his sword to parry it, while at the same time, bringing his foot up to kick the Orc in the face, stunning him. With the time this bought him, he rammed his sword through its gut, causing blood to trickle down its chin as it stood in shock for several seconds, before finally falling to the ground, dead. Again it was starting to look bad. Suddenly, there was the sound of at least a hundred boots and a legion of storm guard appeared, running down the path. A passing druid had seen the carnage, turned himself into a wolf and raced to Kaladim, to warn the rest of the Stormguards. With renewed confidence, the battle ensued. Ahead of Lanorn came an enormous Orc emerge from behind the tree line, wielding a hefty double- bladed battleaxe. It jumped forward, bringing the blade down on Lanorn, but he was quick, and rolled off to the side causing the axe to lodge itself in the ground. The Orc withdrew his weapon and swung again, only to be parried once more. Meanwhile, Findiil drove his dagger through a centurion's rib cage, ensured it was dead, then scanned the battlefield for a new victim, when he saw Lanorn and the huge Orc fighting a ways off. The Dwarf, seeing Lanorn was losing this fight, hurried off to aid his comrade. Lan, out of the corner of his eye, saw Findiil racing over the rocky terrain, when suddenly, he felt a sharp pain in his side, and he saw no more.