We know a little place in the Cimmerian far west, where Gorgax the Unspeakable chops up the finest prairie-fed Orcs and tastes...this is a lot of shit, you know that?
You grasp the sword of Jovan, and suddenly an eerie cackling fills your ears. With a flash of sickening dread you realize that the blade is a cursed artifact of the Darklords, but it is too late. Your mind and soul are torn from you, to be enslaved forever by unholy powers beyond mortal comprehension.