Meanwhile, several hundred miles to the north along the banks of the Lonely River in Fellmore, were three hundred orcs stopping for water before crossing the river to their next target. It was the first water they'd found in days, and it was a godsend for the drought-stricken army. Their captain, a slender figure clad from head to toe in form-fitting steel armor, stood with her arms crossed as she watched her soldiers fill their canteens with life-giving fluid.

"You're shivering," said a gruff voice.
She glanced back at the orc who spoke. It was her lieutenant, a powerful orc called Gorman. He couldn't see her scowl, no thanks to the visor and hood she kept perpetually over her face, but her tone gave it away. "Shut up," she retorted crossly.
The orc grinned back. "Suit yourself."

The captain decided she'd waited long enough and moved to fill her own canteen. She dipped the leather container into the icy water and sealed it off before turning to face her men. Their faces looked so gaunt, so weary, yet so filled with determination that she couldn't help feeling a sense of motherly pride in them. She trusted them, and they her. Today, she would test them yet again. Once the last of them finished filling their waterskins, she cleared her throat and raised her left hand, a signal for their attention.

Their murmurs faded into obedient silence. The chilly wind seeped through her gauntlet. She swallowed hard, knowing that these orcs, [i]her[/i] orcs, would obey her next command without fail, even to the death.

"You boys ready?" she barked.
[b]"Oi sir!"[/b] came the resounding reply.
[i]"Then let's ride!"[/i]

The captain slung herself onto her warg with the rest of the army and charged through the river. There was no more time now left for doubts. These soldiers put their faith in her, and she vowed never to let them down. Their war cries and the shrill shrieks of their enemies pierced the air until the dawn.