The first thing Rod noticed was that the Orcs did not rush them.
The shield-bearing Orc stood at the center of the arena, his feet planted wide and shield angled toward Rod. To his left, a spear fighter moved in a slow circle. The archer had taken a position near the outer wall, where broken stone gave him partial cover. Behind the shield bearer, the shaman raised one hand while the beast handler unclipped the chain from the war hound's collar.
The five Orcs and their hound had entered as separate threats. But it was clear that they operated as a well oiled machine.
"Do not chase them," Rod said.
The shield bearer smiled as the war hound lunged.
Rod met it halfway, axe held low. He brought the weapon around in a horizontal chop, expecting to catch the animal across the ribs. The beast handler snapped his fingers. The war hound changed direction in the middle of its charge, sliding across the sand as the spear fighter stepped into the space Rod had abandoned.
