“How the hell did that happen?” the Lesser Master shouted.

“What the hell is happening?” another voice bellowed and the orcs fell silent, falling to their knees and bowing as a True Master approached.

“Lord Chansa,” the Lesser Master said, bowing so that his robes swished back and forth nervously. “This one has returned through the portal. He says that the humans have taken the camp on the far side and are turning the portals face down. We can’t push through that.”

“Damn!” Chansa shouted. “Damn and damn and damn again!”

Chansa Mulengela was a huge “natural” human. He was nearly three meters tall, broad and thick in proportion, designed right at the limits of what a normal human could support. Huge, dark and fearsome, he appeared like nothing but a human juggernaut, especially when, as now, he let loose his volcanic temper.

Tur-uck had assumed the full prostration, nose in the dirt, arms and legs spread, as the True Master approached. At the sight of the Master’s anger, many of the gathered orcs had followed his example.

“You!” Chansa said, tapping him on the side. “Get up. Tell me what you know.”

“Master!” Tur-uck said, almost overjoyed to be actually addressed by a Master but well aware that it might be the last conversation he ever had on earth. He stumbled to his knees and bowed his head, hands clasped in front of him. “I was part of Sub-leader Grath’s group. We were assigned to provide internal security to the southeast portion of the camp. The camp was attacked by dragons as the portals opened. We reacted to the landed dragons then saw many human soldiers pouring out of other portals. They were pushing the portals of the Masters over so we went to stop them. There were only four on the portal that we attacked, but they killed eight of my leader’s group. We took the portal and the remainder of us tried to raise it, but it was too heavy. So I came through to bring word. Master, spare me!”