He had exhibited flawless stealth, infinite patience, and the absolute, balls-of-steel courage to dive into a swarm of frenzied, high-tier beasts just to snatch the ultimate prize from the jaws of hell.
It was the epitome of opportunism. It was the perfect, brutal cunning required to survive the Great Orrath.
"By the Goddess," one of the older warriors whispered, shaking his head in profound reverence. "To walk into a Sovereign clash and steal the loot... the sheer madness of it."
High Shaman Zephyra, however, wasn't entirely swept up in the romanticism of the heroic tale. Her analytical mind was snagging on a geographical impossibility. She stepped forward, looking straight at him.
"Your bravery and the Goddess's favor are undeniable, Divine One," Zephyra said, her raspy voice cutting through the rising awe. "But something in your tale contradicts the ancient laws of the Orrath. Did you travel to the depth of the Northern Swapms?"
