In the dead of night, a group of survivors, armed with bone spears and spiked shields, gathered stealthily at the edge of the area close to the orc's camp. The air was thick with tension and anticipation as the moon's pale light filtered through the dense clouds, casting eerie shadows on their surroundings. The survivors exchanged determined glances, their eyes reflecting both fear and resolve.
It happened a bit sooner than Jason had expected, but that was convenient for him… the orcs returned and were trying to rebuild their base… perhaps he should have burned down everything.
The orc camp was nestled in a clearing surrounded by hills. A faint glow emanated from scattered campfires, revealing the crude huts and makeshift fortifications. The sounds of low grunts and guttural laughter drifted through the night, signaling the orc's careless confidence.
"Laugh for as long as you want, you amnesiac motherfuckers," Jason thought.
