The orc leapt forward, his fist crashing down. Randal rolled avoiding the blow, the orc’s hot breath and a spray of saliva hitting his neck. The beast’s hand slammed into the stone floor, but this hardly fazed him. He chuckled again. His bottom canines, the size of a man’s three fingers, jutted over his top lip. His mouth formed an awkward grin.

Still holding both batons, Ran got to his feet, turning to run back down the hall. But the orc was fast. His meaty hand grabbed the Special by the leg and ankle, yanking him back to face him.