The cold wind whipped across the plains as Ashar and his council gathered just beyond the stronghold's gates. The previous battle had left the area littered with debris, but it was also an opportunity. The Orcs had been forced to retreat for now, but Ashar knew they would soon come back, angrier and more organized. Time was against them, and they couldn't afford to waste it.
"How long until we're ready?" Ashar asked, his voice steady but filled with urgency. He turned to Garik, who had been preparing a small strike force for the mission into Orc territory. The task was risky, but it could break the Orcs' leadership if they acted swiftly.
Garik stood tall, his brow furrowed as he studied the map laid out on the table. "We'll be ready within two days. The men are already preparing for the raid, but there's something you should know."
Ashar raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. "What is it?"
"We've been gathering more intel on the Orcs' leadership. It seems Gorn's death has stirred more than just his followers. The high chieftain is rumored to be in a fragile position. There are whispers of a rival faction that's waiting for their moment. If we strike now, we can cause enough chaos to disrupt the Orcs' ability to regroup effectively."
Ashar crossed his arms, considering the information. "So, if we take advantage of this power struggle, we can potentially cripple their war efforts?"
"Exactly," Garik replied, his eyes intense. "But it's a double-edged sword. If we fail, the Orcs will unite under the high chieftain's banner, and we'll be facing an even stronger army."
The weight of the decision settled heavily on Ashar's shoulders. The risk was immense, but the potential reward could turn the tide of the war. "We move at dawn," Ashar said firmly. "We strike hard, and we strike fast."
Rylah, who had been quietly listening, spoke up. "And what about the stronghold? We can't leave it vulnerable while we're out on this mission. We'll need to reinforce the defenses. If the Orcs are planning a counterattack, we need every man ready to hold this ground."
Ashar nodded. "You're right. We'll split our forces. Garik's team will infiltrate their stronghold, while the rest of us fortify the defenses. We'll also send scouts to the neighboring villages. It's time we gathered support."
Rylah's eyes glinted with determination. "I'll stay behind and oversee the defenses. If the Orcs come before you return, we'll make sure they pay for every inch of land."
The next morning, Ashar stood at the head of a small but elite group of warriors, their weapons glinting in the pale light of dawn. Garik was at his side, his expression grim but determined. The time for waiting was over. This was their chance to strike before the Orcs could rebuild their forces.
The group moved swiftly, using the cover of the thick woods to conceal their movement. Each step was calculated, every sound carefully monitored. Ashar's heart raced with anticipation. He had led his people out of the oppression of slavery, but now he was leading them into the heart of enemy territory. This would be their true test.
They made camp near the Orc stronghold as dusk settled in, the shadows providing them with the cover they needed to plan the next move. Ashar sat by the fire, his mind sharp as he considered their next steps.
"We'll infiltrate under the cover of night," Garik said quietly, his voice low enough to avoid drawing attention. "Once inside, we'll split into two teams. One will target the high chieftain, the other will create enough chaos to scatter their forces."
Ashar nodded. "How many guards are posted inside?"
"Not many. Gorn's death has created confusion, but we can't underestimate them. There will be a few at the gates, and the high chieftain will have his personal guard. But the Orcs are notorious for their arrogance. They'll likely underestimate us."
Ashar clenched his fists. "Let them. We'll give them a reason to regret it."
As the night grew darker, the team moved closer to the Orc stronghold. The air was thick with tension. Ashar's eyes narrowed as he saw the flickering lights in the distance, a reminder that the enemy was close. This would be the defining moment. Either they would succeed and break the Orcs' power—or they would perish.
The team navigated the outer defenses with ease, slipping past the guards unnoticed. Ashar's heart beat in his chest like a war drum. They were inside now. But there was no turning back.
Meanwhile, back at the stronghold, Rylah was hard at work organizing the defenses. The men had been tirelessly working to fortify the walls, but there was still a long way to go before they could stand a chance against a full-scale attack. She paced the ramparts, scanning the horizon for any signs of movement.
Her thoughts were consumed by the impending battle. She trusted Ashar, but the fear of losing everything in one fell swoop gnawed at her. The Orcs were relentless. They wouldn't stop until they had destroyed everything Ashar had fought for. And even with the stronghold's fortifications, there was only so much they could do to withstand the Orcs' might.
A scout arrived, breathless from running. "Rylah! The Orcs are massing at the western hills. It looks like they're preparing for something big."
Rylah's eyes narrowed. "How many?"
The scout hesitated for a moment. "At least a thousand."
Rylah's heart sank. A thousand Orcs. Even with the stronghold's defenses, it wouldn't be enough. They needed Ashar back—now.
"Gather every able-bodied fighter," Rylah commanded, her voice firm. "We'll need to hold them off as long as we can. This is our home now, and we'll fight for it with everything we've got."
As the scout ran off to gather the troops, Rylah's mind raced. She had to trust that Ashar would succeed in his mission, that the blow to the Orcs' leadership would buy them enough time. But the tension was unbearable. The fate of the stronghold—and the future of their people—hung in the balance.
Back in the heart of the Orc stronghold, Ashar and his team moved swiftly, dispatching any guards they encountered with brutal efficiency. The shadows worked in their favor, and the Orcs never saw them coming. As they neared the high chieftain's inner sanctum, Ashar could hear the faint voices of the Orcs within, arguing amongst themselves. The power vacuum left by Gorn's death had created chaos, and Ashar intended to capitalize on it.
Garik's voice came from behind him. "We're almost there."
Ashar's eyes glinted. "Get ready. This ends tonight."
They kicked open the doors, and chaos erupted. The high chieftain's personal guard was caught off-guard, and within moments, the sound of clashing steel filled the air.
Ashar's sword moved like an extension of his will, cutting through the Orcs with precision. The high chieftain, standing in the center of the room, looked up in surprise. "You dare challenge me?" he roared, his voice filled with fury.
"We dare," Ashar replied coldly, stepping forward. "This is your end."