Chapter 483

The wind howled a mournful dirge across the ravaged landscape of the Lag'ranna Mountains. Dust, kicked up by the retreating tide of orcs, painted the air a rusty brown. The devastation wrought by the Thunder Makers – whatever unseen forces they were – was evident in the shattered crags, the toppled trees, and the earth itself, ripped and scarred as if by a giant's careless hand. The once-proud peaks were now pockmarked, a testament to the raw power unleashed upon them.

From a relatively unscathed ridge, a contingent of Threian Marksmen took up their positions. Their faces were grim, etched with the weariness of prolonged conflict. They were seasoned warriors, their movements precise and economical, honed by years of skirmishes against the orcish tribes.