As the female walked forth, the mob of male orkz around the peak and lining the ridge grew deathly quiet. Unlike the males who were mostly bald, she had a mane of long, dark hair, nearly black but with some hints of a blood read sheen, that fill to the middle of her back. With each step, another layer of armor was removed until at least she stood directly across from Thala, roughly an equal distance from the knife the warlord had place on the ground, wearing only her blood colored leather leggings, thong and brazier. She smiled a wicked grin at Thala, then raised her hands high in the air. When she did, the ork mob roared.
?This is my sport, pinkling!? She cooed after the frenzied yells of the males gathered there had died off. ?To dance with a daughter from a defeated tribe? ah?yes??, her deep, purring voice spoke. ?To smell your fear, and eat your flesh after the struggle: that is all the trophy any ork-mother should ever desire, pinkling. Now, take the blade if you can. Look! I?ll even give you an advantage,? she said, taking a few steps back. ?Just to be sporting?.