[color=39b54a][center][h3]Merik Roak[/h3][/center][/color][hr]
With great strength, the lizardman threw spear after spear at the oncoming Goblin forces. These were not javelins, but impromptu projectiles that were supposed to be hammered into the ground to form an outer palisade. They worked well enough for his intended purpose, though. The logs would often pierce through one or two Goblins as they charged forward, breaking past any paltry defense they could muster. If it did not skewer them, the sheer mass of the object would often crush the target, leaving them with broken bones-- a slow death for cannon fodder.

Merik smelled something in the air before he spotted it. It was not blood, sweat, or metal... It was that telltale scent of blackpowder. At the sight of the sappers, and the reactions of his allies, he knew these to be dangerous opponents. With renewed vigor, the Beastman redoubled his efforts, attempting to kill the sappers before they reached the gate. To his surprise, he heard his name called by Zatana, and before he could muster a response, she had leaped over the battlements to face the sappers in melee. 

He was half-tempted to follow her down, but she had instructed him to help cover her, and if that is what she wanted, then that is what he would do. Merik slowed his volley of attacks, trading rate-of-fire for accuracy and precision (as much that can be provided with projectiles as large as the ones he was using, at any rate) as he threw his impromptu javelins at any Goblin who was attempting to ambush his comrade. If her dance was a dance of death, then his display was like that of an angry god, doling out punishment to those who sought to defy him.

The Goblins began their retreat as their attack was repelled. In the end, Zatana had managed to escape, but she had been caught in the blast zone of the explosive. The elf was collapsed on the ground, and many of the soldiers seemed hesitant to assist her. Wordlessly, the Lizardman approached, uncaring of the fact that she was a Drow. As he strode through the crowds, his imposing figure was made evident-- this was a Beastman who had thrown palisade stakes from atop a wall like they were javelins. Not many people wished to step on his toes, so to speak.

"[color=39b54a]Merik thinks Zatana needs rest.[/color]" He offered her his scaly hand to help her up-- and it seemed like he was more than willing to carry her away if it was necessary. The Lizardman seemed unfazed by the faux pas taking place at the moment and simply thought it best to get her injuries treated to.

[color=#239C89][center][h3]Balthazar Trevarthen[/h3][/center][/color][hr]
Balthazar thought upon the Prince's question. This entire invasion was rather atypical, and it had oddities that distinguished it from the norm. Firstly, while Orcs often bully Goblins around enough to lead them, Orcs are usually never so far from the frontline. More importantly, this entire attempt at a siege is... strange. Typically, they're more than happy to pillage the lands around fortified areas and force the defenders to sally forth and face them on the field, but moving to a siege is a display of tactical acumen not typically present in most Orcs.

"[color=#239C89]It is indeed rather puzzling-- if they are not at the front lines, then they must be elsewhere, doing something they consider to be more important...[/color]" He started. "[color=#239C89]...or they could be waiting.[/color]" The spymaster mused. It was, of course, an outlandish claim. Orcs were creatures of bloodlust who liked nothing more than to test their mettle; the thought of them waiting in the reserves was strange. 

At the Prince's request for strategies to draw out the Warchief, Balthazar paused for only a moment, before explaining several plans. "[color=#239C89]I am in agreement with the Duke-- a good first step would be to close off the entrances they are using for their supply lines.[/color]" He started. "[color=#239C89]If we deprive them of their access to supplies, reinforcements, and retreat, then they will be out in the open, and be forced to make rash decisions. When that occurs, perhaps we can lure them in with the prospect of attaining much-needed supplies, and then crush them when they move to take it.[/color]"

Of course, the concept itself was simple enough... but with decades of experience under his belt, something told the man that this alone would not do. "[color=#239C89]...now this tactic would work on any normal Orc invasion, but we may be dealing with something else.[/color]" Unlike most nobles, pride was not one of Balthazar's virtues-- he was not afraid to express caution and discretion when he did not have all the details. "[color=#239C89]I will have my men seek out more information on their leadership. For now, our next move should be to close those tunnels and seek our allies. When we learn more, we can think about what comes next.[/color]"

As if on cue, signal bells could be heard in the distance. An attack on the Western front. Whether it was an attack in earnest, or an attempt to probe for weaknesses, Balthazar was uncertain. He had a mind to tell his ward that his place was at the war table-- that battles were often won here in the strategy room, rather than on the battlefield... but he did not. There was much to plan, but little to act upon. Besides, his presence may raise morale in the men, so instead, Balthazar simply nodded. "[color=#239C89]Of course, Your Majesty. Fight well.[/color]" The lord bowed low, waiting for the Prince to leave. The man then turned to the Duke.

"[color=#239C89]Duke Karstilli, I would like your scouts to coordinate with mine-- I believe expanding the net will give us more knowledge of the battle to come.[/color]" Making sure their agents work in tandem may be difficult, but it will mean that they can rely upon an external source of support; something they will need in a protracted siege like this.