The battlefield had only just fallen quiet when the forest struck back.
Galum'nor stood in the fading light, his chest heaving. Blood trickled down his arms, both his and not. The uneven grounds behind him were a mess and littered with the corpses of Threians. Their equipment lay scattered across the rocks, and their formations were broken…scattered like grains of sand in the wind.
It had been a battle fought in the open, as the orcs preferred. No ambush, no skirmishes. Just iron, fury, bloodlust, strength and the new disciplined way of fighting instilled in them by their Chieftain against the ranks of the Threians. The orcs had won. But not without cost.