It was Chris Pitt.
"Sun-Cleft command, do you read me?" the Herald mocked, leaning forward in his projection. He casually tossed the severed helmet of a Bronze Legion soldier between his hands. "I know you desert rats are hiding down there. I just finished flattening the Sun-Spear capital, and I am getting incredibly bored. Send me the coordinates of your little cave, and I promise I will make your execution quick."
The room fell entirely silent. Varek took a terrified step backward, recognizing the monster who had butchered the eastern provinces.
Iron-Scale stepped directly into the projection's line of sight, his draconic eyes locked onto the Earthling. The wind from his emerald core whipped across the chamber, extinguishing the nearby candles.
Chris Pitt stopped tossing the helmet, his smirk faltering as he registered the towering Kobold and the massive Orc general standing behind him. "Who the hell are you?"
