The sun had descended plunging the area into darkness but the moon was yet to make an appearance. The air was crisp with the sharp bite of fear and the faint rusty smell of the blood from small fights the day before.
Goblins stood in messy groups, their green skin dull and tired in the weak light. They gripped spears and clubs with shaky hands. Their eyes darted between the barred gates and the blurry shapes of orc warriors circling outside. Whispers spread like wind through dry grass. Talk of giving up, of offering Vrognut to the orcs to end the nightmare. Their stares burned with purpose. Hand him over? Make a deal? The idea felt close, so close they could taste it. But fear held them still, a thick chain around their hearts. Fear of the orcs' axes. Fear of Vrognut's teeth.
They had to wright the two evils and see which one was greater and it wasn't something they could gamble on carelessly either.
