Eight hundred blue Dragon-borns form a line around the city.
An additional hundred stand atop the hundred identical, slender towers.
They are supported by two hundred of the Black-cloaks and over a thousand Kobolds but Belgos knows that he and his kin are the real defence.
The kobolds are undisciplined and will break as soon as they are pushed and the Black-cloaks have no stomach for a real fight.
The Dragon-borns; they will stand firm. They are the true followers of Thereanthor, her true protectors.
The orcs facing them stand less than a quarter of a mile away. Dirty and pig-like but surrounding Khajag in numbers unimagined.
Not the hundreds he’d been told they’d be facing but, from what he could see, well over a thousand!
More disturbing though, is that they appeared organised.
Orcs, he’d always been led to believe, were stupid and incapable of following orders. Yet somehow five of the sundered orc tribes had, not only reformed themselves but allied themselves together.
Looking up at the sun, Belgos estimates the time to be just before noon.
Suddenly something appears in the sky…
An arrow flies high.
It’s followed by scores more…