The orcish horde, a sea of muscular flesh and iron, surged through the gates of the town that was in dire need of repair. Ten thousand prisoners, their faces pale with fear, shuffled along, guarded by the triumphant orcs.
Arkagarr, the Warband Master of the 1st Warband who had tipped the scales of the battle, carried by some Rakshas at the head of the procession. His armor now non-existent, his bare chest riddled with gashes was on full display, a testament to how brutal the fight was . The cheers of the orcs echoed around him, a deafening roar that seemed to shake the very foundations of the town.
Khao'khen, the chieftain, descended from the ramparts. He approached Arkagarr, his eyes full of pride for the hero of the battle.
"You have earned the admiration of the horde, Arkagarr," Khao'khen boomed, his voice a rumble that could be felt as much as heard. "You are a warrior worthy of your title"