In a dark night, somewhere in the middle of some forest, some strange flickers of a distant light pierce the darkness. When the young orcs, sent by the Tribe to locate him, draw near, soon spot the mighty orc warlord training, swinging his blessed blades in mid air, with perfect form, arcs of lightning striking the nearby trees and setting them on fire. The young orcs do not dare to say even a single word, terrified by the imposing image of the mighty warrior. Struck with fear, they turn back and start running in the opposite direction.
A strange bird, flapping its wings up and down, barely supporting it's own weight in the air, suddenly drops a parchment at the feet of the orc. He stops his training, keeping his final form for more than a few moments, as if woken up from a trance. All is silent, all is calm, as if a storm has just passed..
Sounds like fun..