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Brass-mouthed cannons barked smoke and flame, rocking back on iron-bound carriages with each report. Goblins toiled quickly to reload them as Slavemasters walked up and down the line of earthworks, whipping and kicking those they deemed too slovenly.

Atop his mighty gore Arsewind, Gakamak the Unstoppable bared yellowing teeth in a hideous Orcish smile.

“East tower is almost down,” he grunted in the thick language of the Orcs, almost to himself. He turned his head and looked down to where his lieutenants waited nervously on foot around him. “Krossgar, get your troops to the foot of the banking. You will attack first after the wretches go in.” He fixed the Headcrusher captain before him with a glare. The Orc began to return it twofold and thought better of it, bowing low – he was not strong enough yet to best Gakamak in a challenge. “Yes, lord,” he growled, and marched away, armour plates clanking.

Gakamak gave orders to all his underlings, Orc and Goblin, as the cannons spoke once more. The weapons had been taken from the Abyssal Dwarfs last week, and now were being put to good use against their makers. Smoke puffed along the line of the walls, ornate metalwork denting, stonework disintegrating. He gave a snort of satisfaction as a tower slipped forward like a stab victim stumbling to its knees, blocks coming apart as it turned from a building to a pile of rubble in front of him. Moments later, the rumble of its collapse reached his ears. A roaring cheer went up from his army. Beasts bellowed, Trolls moaned, gores snorted and Vargen howled at the commotion made by their masters.

Gakamak smiled again at the destruction, felt his heart pound at the sight of something unmade. He’d rip it down, all of it, rip it to pieces, smash it, burn it and dance on the ashes. He chuckled in his barrel chest, deep and phlegmy.

“Told you. East tower,” he said, gesturing with a massive, clawed hand. “Now sound the attack. Goblins in, first wave. Tonight we dine on Dwarf flesh.”

He flipped back his visor, threw back his head and roared along with the bray of harsh trumpets. As one, his army joined him, and Gakamak’s blood sang with the joy of war.

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