<span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;">"Now,"</span>a bassy, earthquake voice rumbles across the bone-littered clearing,<span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;">"You free me. Or at least so I'd hope."</span><br/><br/>The massive, middle-aged male tauren is heavily chained, spread-eagled, to the back of one of the standing stones which the necromancer had chosen to set his baleful altar against. Doesn't look too comfortable. He's well over ten feet tall, and broad in a way that makes fortress walls look narrow. Also a bit bloodied and bruised, which would explain how he ended up providing a life-force anode to the diabolical undead's death-magic.<br/><br/>Although, come to think of it, he might not be as bloodied as all that. Some of the reddish sheen is his own hide, though in the moonlight most of him looks a deep, charcoal gray. He hasn't got the elemental markings of a shaman, but what is carven into one immense shoulder is a stylized symbol for the sun, faintly glistening where gold dust was rubbed into the tattoo to heal there. Below it in more standard inking a set of green triangles point down towards the outline of a mesa. What's a Sunwalker doing here?<br/><br/>His eyes narrow as he realizes that the orc-girl's companions aren't Horde, and another low, rumbling grunt escapes him.<span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;">"Mercenaries?"</span>He sighs like a hurricane,<span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;">"...Or is it Alliance? Either way, get me down from here, and if that miserable bag of bones left a speck of the sun's life force within me, I'll heal you. After that, well..."</span>His tail swishes against the stone slab irritably, as if flicking away a fly that isn't there.<span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;">"...we can talk."</span><br/><br/>(https://33.media.tumblr.com/c587fe02caf55633b96ce96efc888759/tumblr_nhf770SW6K1r9tnh2o1_1280.jpg)