For the next few days Snaga was plagued with worries. The anxiety gave him a wretched feeling in his gut that wouldn't go away. He couldn't get the swirling, anxious thoughts out of his head; he thought constantly about how elves were watching their camp from the trees, stalking them. It gave him an unsettling and horrible creep up his spine.
He smoked whenever he could to find relief from the constant state of fear that he lived in. It was a cruel day when he ran out of the supply that he'd bartered from Gorshank. When it was all used up and gone it was enough to make him fall into a despair.
Snaga didn't dare go into the woods anymore, and that made life much harder for him. He was hungry, as usual, but this time there was nothing he could do about it. And there was nowhere to run and hide if his master was in a rage; he would have to take the abuse. Which is exactly what he was worried about as he trudged up to the second floor of a crumbling stair-well, carrying a bucket of water. Before he even reached the top of the staircase he could hear angry, arguing voices above. He shuddered, not wishing to get caught up in the middle of it all but having no choice.
An emissary had been sent from the orc-held fortress at Lug-Gülguh. Not the first one either; a week ago a messenger was sent to their camp. Whatever the message was, it hadn't been well received; his dead body had been unceremoniously dumped into a ditch. Snaga had heard the quarrel from afar; but he didn't dare go near to eavesdrop. Snaga knew better; always best to stay clear of Zurgug's capricious violence. Snaga didn't know what message or orders were coming down from Lug-Gülguh; but this time instead of a lowly messenger, the lieutenant himself had come down to their camp, escorted by armed soldiers. Snaga crept quietly into the room to find the emissary and Zurgug in a heated quarrel.
"Fuck you, you messenger scum! If you think I'll let you take three hundred of our best soldiers out from underneath us, you've lost your fucking mind."
"Orders, you swine! It's not a message, it's an order, straight from the tower! And you know well enough what happens to a captain who disobeys orders from Lugburz."
"I know well enough what will happen to us if I don't disobey your order." He retorted.
"Just the other day my slave found elves in the woods. It's not just men we've got to look out for, there's elves too now! They're watching us, probably lying in wait. We can't hold our own if you gut us of every able soldier that we have!"
"Oh you'll be gutted alright, in the flesh, if you don't comply. Lug-Gülguh has been ravaged by the plague; there're not more than a hundred soldiers there. It'll fall to the men and elves if it's not re-stocked immediately; and you know our dark lord won't stand for that. If you think your petty little rag-tag camp is more important than that great old fortress, then you're mad."
"Listen here Luzbag: get your fucking troops elsewhere, because we don't have any to spare. Why don't you go south and recruit there instead?"
"My orders don't demand that I go south," Luzbag seethed. "My orders say that you are to provide us with reinforcement for the garrison. Which makes sense well enough since you're the closest source for foot-soldiers. You disobey these orders at your own expense, Zurgug. I'll gladly put your head on a stake myself when it comes to that."
Suddenly Zurgug noticed Snaga standing in the corner. "Get out of here, Snaga!" He screamed while throwing an axe at his head.
Snaga yelped and darted just in time before it hit him squarely in the forehead. He dropped the bucket which splashed to the ground. Snaga darted down the stairwell; best to get out of Zurgug's presence and not come under his wrath. His first thought was to find Grishnak and tell him everything he'd heard.
The next day there was great commotion as soldiers were being fitted with armor and assembled to march out of the camp. Snaga and Grishnak had been put to work all day gathering weapons and armor for the foot-soldiers. They stood beside each other now, watching the spectacle from the sidelines as troops were marched out of the camp.
"You know what this means, don't you, Snaga?" Snaga turned to look at Grishnak without answering him.
"It means we're easy prey. There's far too few of us now, we can't hold our own with these numbers."
Snaga didn't answer; he watched concernedly as the soldiers were dressed and marched.
"How many did Zurgug say he's sending to Lug-Gülguh?" Grishnak asked.
"Two hundred. Lugbag demanded three hundred but he wouldn't give up any more than two."
Grishnak snorted. "What difference will it make? We're as good as dead now."
"Do you really think-"
"You said it yourself, Snaga." Grishnak interrupted. "There are elves in those woods. Elves and men I'll wager. They've been watching us for weeks. If I were to guess; I'd say they've been waiting for the right time to strike."
"What will we do if we're attacked?" He asked.
"Run, if you can. Though they'll hunt you down more than likely. Or fight. Not that it will do you much good."
"You told me that you fought once," Snaga said.
Grishnak snorted, "I'm no more of a soldier than you, Snaga. If they attack, I'll be running, same as you. But best to keep that knife by your side anyways; you may need it soon."
Snaga looked down at where his small dagger sat sheathed on his hip.
"I'm not a soldier," He thought to himself. He had never killed anyone before. He had only ever stabbed someone once; and that was when he was alone and he had been jumped. Snaga knew that if the enemy attacked, there was nothing he could do.
