The heat lay thick over the orcish war camp like a heavy, wet blanket. The sun had not yet dipped low, but the dense canopy of the tree-ridden terrain cast long shadows that stretched like dark fingers across the trampled earth. Insects droned. The scent of sap, sweat, blood, and damp soil swirled together, rising on the humid air. Somewhere in the distance, a Rhakaddon bellowed... deep, resonant, the kind of sound that made the lesser creatures scatter.
Nearly twenty thousand orcs occupied the clearing and the surrounding woods. Tents of hide and bark leaned against towering roots. Great lines of warg-riders paced like wolves anxious to be unleashed. Warriors hammered stakes into the earth, marking boundaries or preparing sheds. Smiths pounded metal, and the fire pits burned with the smoke of roasting meat.
