It would be a lovely day in Oran - bright, breezy, pleasant temperature - if it wasn't for how angry the Grendel were.

Unfortunately, the remaining inhabitants of the once-bustling port city are mostly huddling indoors, cowed by the regular patrols sweeping the streets.

Down one of these narrow streets, between brightly painted row houses two or three stories high, half a dozen Grendel warriors are determinedly marching; heavily built orcs, mostly carrying bhuj with a curved sword as a sidearm, in somewhat mismatched armour and stolen finery - silk scarves, bangles, necklaces, and one of them loaded up more than the others with the finest jewellery.

They have their eyes out for trouble - and for potential targets - as someone appears just around the corner...