Forge of the Mindslayers

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Chagai crouched behind a rocky outcropping near the summit of a small mountain, a perfect vantage point to observe the party of four men traveling by foot through the canyon below. Two were human-one in the prime of his life, dressed all in black, with long ebon hair, while the other was a white-beard, thin of frame, and from the way he lagged behind his companions, not very strong. A halfling and a half-orc accompanied the humans. Chagai's upper lip curled in disgust. Even from this height he could smell the half-blood's stink, and without his realizing it, a growl rumbled deep in his chest.

The half-blood paused and cocked his head. He gazed up at the mountain-directly where Chagai hid-eyes furrowed, nostrils flaring as he read the scents on the wind. Chagai stopped breathing and held himself as motionless as the rocks around him. The orc wore a mottled gray cloak over his chain-mail armor, and he had the hood up. The cloak's color blended with the mountain's surface, and Chagai was confident that the half-blood wouldn't be able to detect him. Still, even a half-orc possessed senses far stronger than those of a human, and Chagai knew better than to underestimate him, especially this half-orc-for Chagai recognized the other's scent, recognized the way he moved, even the way he breathed. The half-breed's name was Ghaji, and years ago he had come close to slaying Chagai. Very close.

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