The spy team’s report to the chief and his council of tribal elders sent a thrill of fear across the great cavern. Its content, delivered amid halting breaths by the lizardman warriors, froze everyone in place.
“Ridiculous. That couldn’t be possible!” one of the elders scoffed.
The chief agreed—he would have said the same, if so many others weren’t in attendance. He had a duty to be a rock for his people, unmoved by every ill tiding that greeted them. He couldn’t believe it, but he couldn’t simply say so. If the report turned out to be accurate, he would have to accept it and come up with countermeasures.
“Is this true?” he ventured.
“By my very life, it is, my lord!”
“Very well. You may go and rest.”
He gave the warrior a composed nod and ordered the lizardmen, who no doubt had run at full speed day and night to deliver the news, out of the chamber. The sight of the chief, as sage and reserved as ever, must have relieved them a bit—so much so that they fell to the ground, right where they stood, too exhausted to continue. It was all the proof the room needed that their news was true.
Two hundred thousand? It is insanity…
Watching their fellow warriors carry the spy team away, the chief found himself forced to reassess the situation. The orcs were certainly a fast-multiplying race in terms of numbers, but he doubted even they could assemble such a huge array of fighting men and women in one place.
How could they even have the logistics to supply two hundred thousand hungry stomachs?
It would be a gargantuan effort, keeping those supply lines fed. Transporting all that food couldn’t have been feasible for such an undisciplined rabble.
“These orcs are selfish louts,” one of his advisers whispered to him, “not a care in the world for anyone but themselves. How could anyone have wrangled them into a single cohesive unit?”
That’s the question, the chief thought. Even the most gifted leader couldn’t control a force of two hundred thousand at once, not unless they had absolute control over them all. A thousand at once would be about the practical limit. Orcs were D-ranked monsters with intelligence beneath that of humans. They cared little for anything that wasn’t directly in front of their faces. They were foolish, to a man, and the word cooperation didn’t exist in their vocabulary.
The chief had his hands full managing all the lizardmen who served him, which numbered around twenty thousand. And that was a race that, by and large, lived in harmony with one another. Add a zero to that figure, and it was simply beyond comprehension.
“Is there some manner of genius class among them leading the forces?” the chief said to himself.
“It could hardly be the case,” his adviser replied. “Anyone capable of maintaining order among them would need to be a unique monster, and I have never heard of more than one such creature appearing at the same time.”
“Indeed,” another chimed in. “The idea of multiple unique monsters of your caliber, my lord, being born among the orcs… Impossible to think of.”
The chief nodded as they each shook their heads in disbelief. No. It makes little sense. But there is no point denying facts. If I am to assume this report is valid, what are the orcs capable of doing?
Even if the orcs did have several unique monsters like the lizardman chief, would they have it in them to work together toward the same objective? Assembling an unheard-of force like this would require some other presence, something pushing all those talented, unique monsters to strive for a common goal without going at one another’s necks. Such a uniquely charismatic leader would mean that even low-level orcs could not be trifled with. In fact, they could be a threat like none before.
Should I take action under the assumption that such a superior leader is among them? Do the orcs have it “in” them, so to speak…?
Wait. Could it be…?
Reaching a certain point in his own logic, the chief grew visibly agitated. The thought was something he wished to banish from his mind, but he couldn’t. Someone capable of ruling over such a force. Someone said to be born only once every few centuries…
“Could there be an orc lord among their ranks…?!”
As soft as the chief’s whisper was, it transmitted loud and clear to his people despite the rising commotion. Those who understood it fell quiet, eventually silencing the entire cavern.
“An orc lord…”
“But surely…”
“If, by some chance, this were the case…”
The elders who served as the chief’s advisers were similarly unable to shake the possibility. An orc lord was the stuff of legend, and in their thoughts, indeed capable of commanding a six-figure army. The more they mulled over the idea, the less they could imagine any other reason for this state of affairs.
“If… If, somehow, they have an orc lord among them, that would certainly explain why they have come together in this way…”
“But for what purpose?”
“Does it matter at this point? The only question is whether we can defeat them or not!”
The cavern was in an uproar once more, the advisers exchanging opinion after hostile opinion.
Whether we can defeat them or not…?
Fighting on a plain would put the outnumbered lizardmen at a heavy disadvantage. The marshes, however, were their backyard. With a careful hand and the right traps set in place, they had every chance at victory.
Or they thought they did.
If this was just a simple orc horde like any other, the chief knew how to dispatch them any number of ways. But if an orc lord truly had been born, it wasn’t so easy any longer. If they were this outnumbered, they would need to maintain high morale and overwhelm the enemy with their teamwork. The chief knew it was possible, what with their knowledge of the local lands, but that strategy wouldn’t work against an orc lord. An orc lord was a monster, through and through, one who could sniff out and consume the very fear that lay in his allies’ hearts.
The chief thought to himself, How can we escape this dilemma? If this orc-lord thing turned out to be a nonexistent threat, he could ask for nothing else. But nonetheless, he felt compelled to take every measure he could before the confrontation came.
He would need backup.
The chief, his mind made up, called for one of his men. This man’s name was Gabil, and as prudent and thoughtful the lizardman chief was, not even he could see the sheer amount of fuel he would soon add to the flames of this chaos.