“Stand up, orc,” Chansa growled. “Let me look at you. Did your sub-leader order you to return?”

“No, Master,” Tur-uck admitted, getting to his feet and standing to attention. The build of his body did not permit him to stand fully erect and his long arms dangled almost to his bowed knees. “He ordered me not to return.”

“So, why did you?” Chansa asked, mildly.

“I…” Tur-uck started to reply then stopped. “Masters needed to know. There was not time to explain, Master. I beg your forgiveness! I was not fleeing battle, Master! I am brave and willing to die. My life is yours, Master! But the Masters needed to be told!”

“My God,” Chansa muttered. “Celine finally screwed up and produced an orc with initiative.”

Tur-uck didn’t know what that meant so he remained mute.

“Did you challenge Sub-leader Grath for his position?” Chansa asked, walking around the orc and looking him up and down. “You are a prime specimen. You might have won.”

“I did not, Master,” Tur-uck admitted.

“Why not?” Chansa asked.

“Sub-leader Grath was a good leader, Master,” Tur-uck said, nodding in nervousness. “He kept us fed and told us of good ways to fight, to kill the humans. I… I did not wish to challenge him until he had taught me all I might learn from him.”

“And one with patience?” Chansa laughed. “So all the portals are down?”

“They appear to be, Marshal,” the Lesser Master interjected.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Chansa snapped. “Orc, what is your name?”

“Tur-uck, Master.”

“All the portals are down, Tur-uck?”

“Yes, Master,” the orc admitted. “The west side was commanded by a Greater Dragon and none could defeat her. Many human soldiers had also attacked and there appeared to be an attack on the south gate. Most of the Horde had left by the north gate by the time I came through.”