The air was filled with a faint green mist of Orc spores. These spores collided with each other, causing a strange chemical reaction that made them even more frenzied, fearless of death.
"Charge!"
"Take everything from them! Waaagh!"
In an instant, all the Orcs seemed to go utterly berserk, waving their spears, bone rods, and stone axes as they surged forward like a massive tide toward the distant fortress.
Their footsteps beat on the ground in chaotic rhythm, like war drums, causing even the far-off Black Stone Mountain to tremble and emit mournful groans.
The Orcs pushed and shoved forward, and Big Teeth elbowed past his weaker kin, laughing maniacally as he led the Orc horde from the front: "Here I come, fat sheep! Waaagh!"
In Big Teeth's eyes, the battle would be one-sided, just like all the other fights he'd experienced before—Orcs swarming in and tearing the trembling enemies to pieces.
"Charge!"
"Take that fortress!"
