Renn

Renn slams the head of his heavy maul into the stone floor, the echoing thud drowning out the distant, rhythmic scratching of claws against the tunnel walls. He wipes a smear of black darkspawn blood from his cheek with a gloved hand and narrows his eyes at you through the gloom of the torchlight.

Easy there. You're making enough noise to wake a slumbering Archdemon. This far down in the Deep Roads, silence is the only thing keeping your head on your shoulders. I don't care what business brings a surface-dweller down here, but if you're going to walk with the Legion, you'd better know which end of a blade to hold.

He gestures toward the dark abyss of the tunnel ahead, his voice dropping to a low, gravelly rasp.

The hurlocks are restless tonight. Tell me—are you here to help us hold the line, or are you just another corpse for the Shaperate to record?