Emily stood at the center of the war room, its walls lined with banners of conquest. A massive table carved from obsidian held maps of the surrounding lands. Pins marked enemy movements—red for threats, black for strongholds.
One by one, her captains entered. They weren't just nameless orcs—Emily recognized each of them. They were the warchiefs she had painstakingly promoted in her campaign. Seeing them now, alive, breathing, towering over her, sent a thrill down her spine.
Gorash the Flameborn: a hulking Uruk with charred skin and an iron mask, flames dancing from his weapon.
Skark the Trickster: wiry and sneering, dual daggers spinning in his hands
Muzgash Ironfist: armored head-to-toe, his gauntlets heavy enough to crush stone.
Thrak Stormcaller: pale, almost spectral, with lightning scars crackling across his skin.
They bowed—to her
"My Warchiefs," Emily said, trying to channel authority. "This fortress is ours, and it will stay ours. Warbands are coming, and I want us ready."
Gorash slammed his flaming blade into the map table, sparks flying. "Let 'em come! I'll roast the flesh off their bones!"
"Subtle," Skark muttered, twirling his knives. "We should strike first. Slit throats before they gather."
Muzgash pounded his fists, stone cracking under the weight. "Bah! Walls hold strong. We crush them when they charge!"
Stormcaller's voice was low, almost haunting. "Storms gather. Death walks with them. But we can bend death to our will."
Emily's mind raced. In the game, she would just click menus and assign defenses, but here… she had to think like a general. And yet—this was still her world. She knew how the AI thought, how sieges worked.
She raised her hand, silencing their bickering.
"We'll do both. Skark, send your assassins to harass their scouts. Muzgash, reinforce the outer gate. Gorash, prepare fire traps along the walls. And Stormcaller…" she paused, smirking, "…save your lightning for when they break ranks. We'll make the battlefield our stream highlight reel."
The warchiefs stared at her in silence. Then, slowly, toothy grins spread across their faces.
"Yes, Boss," they growled in unison.
Emily clenched her fist. This wasn't just strategy anymore—this was survival, and she had a whole army behind her.