As for the Volunteer Corps, think of them as the Horde's irregulars—mercenaries, drifters, and hard-bitten travelers who called the Stoneheart Horde home.
They had too much baggage or too little discipline to join the regular legions, yet they still wanted to bleed for the Horde. It was a grassroots militia—rough around the edges, but fiercely effective.
Organizing them killed two birds with one stone: it relieved pressure on the main army and gave these restless souls a way to earn a heavy pouch of coin.
The North. The Northern Bastion of Menethis.
The sunset was bleeding across the horizon, a brilliant, dying light. To Prince Theodore, standing high atop the battlements, it felt like a premonition.
His silhouette against the red sky was gaunt. The Northern Bastion of Menethis had lost its former majesty. Days of relentless siege had stripped away the glory, leaving behind a fortress that reeked of desolation and decay.
