Shogmog stood on the battlement of the battlement of the Lok Menelram looking upon the hosts arrayed below. He turned at the sound of a hobnailed boot scuffing the stone behind him to see the hero of the day Uklurg limping up the stairs. “Well my lord, that did not go exactly as planned.” he said as Uklurg leaned against the wall to take weight off his injured leg. “No”, replied Uklurg “our troops fought well but they were too many.”
“Still these walls are strong, and they did not dare test them.”
Shogmog shrugged, "How many do you think we still face?“he said. “Bah,” spat Uklurg, “counting heads is a task for slaves or wizards.” You have your orders now?” growled Uklurg, Shogmog nodded. “Good, see that you too give as good of service to our master.” said Uklurg as he turned and left the battlement.
Shogmog assessed the situation, laughed and drew another long draft from his Wineskin. They have me surrounded, the poor bastards, he thought. “I’m not letting any of you get away!” he yelled from the battlement and stood laughing.