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"Hunger, exhaustion, doubt. These are deplorable concepts known only to mortals and lesser men. By the sustenance of purpose alone does the Astarte best the most insurmountable of challenges, and write a saga worthy of the eons."

Mjiko perched on the precipice of the cliff, surveying the the battle being fought below. The stench of the Greenskins was an assault to his olfactory sense, a slight he ached to repay. He closed his eyes, offering a prayer to the Allfather that the command to engage would come soon. His eyes still closed, he embraced the cold wind playing through his graying mane, and the familiar presence of his packmates. The voice of his lord, Sven Bloodhowl, cut suddenly into his ear.

"Pack Stormwing, launch flank assault."

Mjiko stood and turned, feeling at ease despite the assuredly fatal drop mere inches behind his heel. With a curt nod to his squad, he spoke.

"Stat close, trust in your wargear, and praise the Allfather."

Without another word he fell back, plummeting into the abyss...

Are you planning on updating this?

Not much of an idea as to what this is about, but oh well.

Will be watching.

Yeah. I'll be updating it slowly but surely.