Volk's voice rang out as the Horde stood gathered just beyond the cave's mouth, their breath clouding in the crisp morning air.
His crimson eyes swept over the mass of Orcs and Ogres, their rough-hewn armor glinting faintly in the pale sunlight. Weapons were gripped tightly in massive hands, and tension hummed through the group like a drawn bowstring.
"Be ready," Volk commanded, his tone sharp as steel. "Always."
The Horde roared their affirmation, a cacophony of guttural shouts that echoed off the rocky cliffs around them.
Orcs thumped their fists against their crude chest plates with loud clang-clang-clang! sounds, while Ogres slammed the hafts of their weapons into the ground, creating deep, resounding boom-boom vibrations that seemed to shake the earth itself. The noise was both chaotic and disciplined, a display of raw power and unity.
Volk's cloak flared as he raised a hand for silence, and the Horde stilled almost instantly.
