The gathering at the entrance to the catacombs buzzed with the grim energy of impending battle.
The Orc clans stood together in a loose formation, their tension barely hidden under forced bravado.
They all knew what was coming, what fate awaited those who failed to hide or fight back against the relentless onslaught of Red Elven Warlocks and Dark Elven Witches.
Yet, despite the looming danger, there was an undeniable camaraderie between the Orc tribes—a mutual respect, though often laced with mockery.
Suddenly, a voice rang out from the distance.
"Wait!"
The sound echoed across the gathering, halting all movement.
The various Orc clans turned their heads as one, their eyes falling on the approach of the Dreadmaw Clan.
Their numbers were fewer than the other tribes, and their heavy footsteps were slow, burdened with the weight of defeat and exhaustion.
