UNSHACKLED HORDE

Volk turned, the bloodlust in his gaze fading momentarily as his eyes fell upon his horde—a battalion of snarling orcs and brutish ogres, each one battle-scarred and fiercely loyal.

The orcs stood tall, their green skin marred by the brutal marks of countless fights, muscles taut beneath rough armor.

In their eyes, a fierce, unquenchable flame burned, a collective fire that flickered and danced as they took in the sight of the towering undead behemoth in front of their warchief.

Volk's heart thundered with pride.

He thrust a massive fist into the air and bellowed, his voice rolling like thunder across the battlefield, "VOLK SMASH WITH HORDE!"

The orcs and ogres raised their weapons high, snarling and roaring, a wave of primal fury surging through them.

"HORDE IS WITH WARCHIEF!" they shouted, voices merging into one relentless war cry that shook the very earth.

Then, Volk's voice boomed once more, "LOK'TAR OGAAAAAAAARRR!!!"