“Huh, guess a couple of lads have a brain in their head.” Grolan muttered, looking down from the battlements just off to the right of the low-section that was likely to be the primary target when the human infantry forces reached the walls, if they ever did. Half-Face was off to his right with his elites assembled around him, but Grolan was mostly alone, one bleeding Orc at his side holding the feathered crossbow bolt in his chest with bemusement on his face.  The young warrior hadn’t even drawn his sabre as he ducked often to avoid incoming bolts and other nasty projectiles. Uncaring if he looked skittish to the nearby warriors, he ducked low and then remained crouched, watching the large half Ogre known as Nargesh leading her sortie out into the Human lines. He had to admire the audacity of such an assault, but he couldn’t help but laugh when he spotted the runt on her shoulders. 

He was still chuckling as Half-Face made some remarks to his right, but he grew deadly serious as he realised what he was seeing. As the explosions of erupting powder, launched by the crazies that Grolan made an extended effort to avoid, dotted the field he noticed the same thing Half-Face had, that the human forces were quickly flanking the sortie, and approaching in force. The siege wasn’t done yet; the climax was to come in the next few hours.

“Here they come then.” Grolan said, a little louder, not really for anyone’s benefit but his own. He had no real capacity to command, though he was certainly capable few would listen to him, so he settled on the wall and watched the arrows fly in response to the crossbow-bolts skittering overhead. The siege-ladders came ever closer, fortified with wooden struts to prevent them being easily toppled, they lacked the protection of fully fledged towers, but they could be mounted quicker and Orcs weren’t known for their ranged prowess. However the Bow regiment was definitely doing its bit to dispel that myth, as many a peasant had found out to their chagrin on the blood strewn grass below an Orcish arrow was deadly to a fleshy target. However, Grolan knew that the peasants were nothing more than a tactical sacrifice to Human forces, used to highlight strengths and weaknesses of a target. As they soaked up arrow fire and burning oil and pitch the commanders behind them knew where the Orcish forces were strong, and where they were weak. When the armoured infantry moved in, that was when they would be tested for real.

Grolan watched the human forces begin to surround the sortie, wondering if they would retreat before they were cut off from the castle and inevitably cut down, their losses would be immense, such was always the case with such things. He admired their sacrifice, from a tactical standpoint.

Arrows protruded from the men pushing the ladders, but behind them were hundreds more spearmen in plain clothes, and behind them were the armoured core that would really put Nar Mat Khordh-Ishi to the test.