Earsplitting crashes of metal on metal. The heavy breathing of two warriors engrossed in battle. One of the fighters released a mighty battle cry, and charged toward his foe. The target raised his axe, preparing to block the attack, but the weapon was knocked from his hands. The axe fell to dry, red earth, a small cloud of dust thrown up, then carried away by the wind.

Despite his loss, the great green figure smiled and relaxed his muscle-bound body. "You have done well, Kerithgar," pride clearly visible in his eyes as he spoke.

Darzhig had trained many a warrior over the course of his long life, but none had excelled as quickly as Kerithgar. In but a few scant months, the elder orc had witnessed his newest pupil fight harder and with more soul than any he had seen since the days of the second and third wars. Darzhig sighed at the thought, then lifted a hand to Kerithgar's broad shoulder.

"Thank you, Master Darz," Kerithgar bowed his head and tried to fight back a cocky grin. He was well aware of his battle prowess, and confirmation of it was always welcome. He brought his head back up to meet his teacher's eyes, sheathed his double-bladed axe, and prepared to head home. "I shall see you on the morrow."

"No you shall not." Kerithgar's eyes widened in confusion, and Darzhig could not help but laugh at the image. "I can teach you no more. You have surpassed me. You are now a warrior of the Horde, and there is no doubt in my mind that you shall be one of the greatest warriors we have ever had or known. Welcome, friend."