Over the winding canyon, Astensia's leap created a golden streak in the hazy sky, then it started to descend, almost like a falling star.
They landed with a heavy, dust-scattering thud at the very end of the gorge, directly in front of the boss's chamber.
Almost immediately, a new kind of scent penetrated Lancet's nose. The air was strong, despite the wind there was still a smell of rusted iron and dried blood.
Before them sat the Throne of Bones. The thing was huge; grotesque in its shape but built like a monument from the bleached ribs and curved tusks of dead behemoths, bound together by rusted chains.
However, what was more terrifying was the beast that sat on top of it.
Upon the throne, was the apex predator of the badlands: The Orc King.
The beast was colossal, easily fifteen feet tall, its dark green flesh covered in ritualistic crimson scars and thick slabs of iron armor bolted directly into its skin.
