Aware of the danger, you try to run faster...

"A little more and the orcs will attack our camp! I must warn the rest of the militia!" - you frantically think, running past yet another thicket of bushes and leaping over long, twisting tree roots.

Straining your body as hard as you can, you try to run as fast as you can in the direction of the militia camp.

The sweat beneath your clothes is pouring more and more heavily...

The heavily worn leather armor you wear doesn't look like much protection - but the long march, the heavy lifting, and the desperate running you're currently under are making you feel increasingly hotter.

After turning a bend on a winding, narrow forest path, the holey copper helmet you're wearing hits a gnarled tree branch and falls off, hitting the trunk with a dull thud. The sound of a helmet falling could very well attract unwanted attention...

Realizing this, you try to run even faster.

Suddenly, a cry rings out from behind you: "Derek! Wait for me... Please! I can't run... Oh... So fast..."

Lenny...

"This idiot doesn't seem to understand the mortal danger of the situation... We need to hurry to the camp... We must warn the others of the impending threat at all costs... Besides, that dumbass scream could attract orcs right now... There could be a lot of those beasts here..." - thoughts like these flash through your mind in seconds.

And you decide... to ignore your companion's request.

Ignoring Lenny's pitiful screams behind you, you continue running with renewed vigor toward the militia camp.

Ten minutes later, you reach your destination...

The sergeant's irritated face twists into a sneer of disdain when he sees you running into the camp and nearly tripping over the cooking pot that the other militiamen were already preparing to put on the fire.

"What the fuck?! You lost your helmet, you bastard?! Where's the water bucket?! Where's your idiot-mate?!" - sergeant's harsh shouts at you, and his angry eyes indicate that he's already prepared to beat you as punishment for failing to perform your duties properly.

"Orcs! Orcs are coming from the southeast! They'll be attacking the camp soon!" - you shout back, running up to the tent and grabbing your small spear with trembling hands, its iron tip clearly rusted.

Everyone heard your scream...

The hubbub of dozens of frightened voices echoes throughout the militia camp. Fear is evident in the eyes of most of the militiamen (many of whom were ordinary peasants just a week ago), and it's rapidly growing, threatening to reach the level of uncontrollable panic.

"Don't panic, shit-scared bastards! Form a perimeter defense, shiteaters! I will personally kill anyone who disobeys my orders!" - sergeant shouts at the top of his lungs.

Gradually, the sergeant manages to organize a group of militiamen around him, holding spears and shields and warily looking toward the rustling bushes.

Furthermore, a small number of the militiamen carry shortbows...

You are also among this group, holding your spear in both hands.

However, several militiamen finally panic and drop their weapons, fleeing westward, eager to escape the camp.

The sergeant cursed foully and grabbed his crossbow (he is the only one in the squad with such a weapon).

You see he quickly took aim and fired...

The crossbow bolt was swift...

The flesh on the back of the head of one of the cowards who tried to desert instantly turned into a bloody mess.

The thin body, convulsing in death throes, fell onto the green grass near a tall tree.

A copious stream of scarlet blood quickly covers the grass and soil...

The remaining deserters manage to hide in the bushes.

However, a minute later, you hear terrifying screams of insane pain from there, which for some reason remind you of the sounds of a slaughterhouse (in your small village, you sometimes helped the butcher).

Soon, disgusting green-skinned monsters burst from the thicket...

The muscular arms of some of them are already stained with blood...

The attack on the militia camp comes from several directions at once.

"Archers, shoot!" - sergeant's loud commanding voice resounds deafeningly near you.

The sound of a bowstring being released...

A dozen arrows whistle toward the enemy.

Some miss or hit the orcs' wooden shields.

Some pierce the flesh of the green-skinned monsters.

You realize with horror that even the orcs wounded by arrows continue their attack!

Aghast, one of the militia archers drops an arrow from his hands to the ground.

The other archers draw arrows from their quivers and begin preparing to fire again at the oncoming "greenskin wave".

Alas, it seems too late...

The archers manage to fire only one more shot, which is even less effective than the last...

Enraged orcs, brandishing curved swords, axes, and maces, pounce on the militia squad.

Near you, some militiamen have shields. So you try to take cover behind their backs while simultaneously thrusting forward your spear, which you hold with both hands.

The furious roar of the green-skinned beasts draws ever closer...

Another second and a clash will occur, the consequences of which will be fatal for many...

A tall, muscular orc rushes towards you, brandishing his curved, spiked sword and covering himself with a wooden shield pierced with four arrows.

The look in his small eyes is filled with a furious hatred that seems to guarantee you a painful death.

You attempt to thrust the tip of your spear into this monster with a swift, stabbing motion.

Alas, the swing of his blade reduces your spear to a pitiful, useless stump of wood, which you now clutch in your trembling hands. One of your filemates also attempts to attack this orc - and is even somewhat successful, as this time the iron spear point pierces the orc's shield-holding hand.

However, the orc simply discards his wooden shield, flinging it like an improvised weapon toward the militia.

A cry of pain behind you...

If you had dared to look back, you would have seen the wooden shield hit one of the archers in the face. The archer fell to the ground, his nose broken, blood streaming down his face.

Meanwhile, the frenzied orc simply... leaps at the shield-holding militiamen nearby.

His large, green-skinned body forces you and two of your neighbors to the ground.

Your gaze sees the orc, with a powerful, sweeping attack, manage to pierce the edge of one of the shields with his sword and deeply cut the shoulder of the militiaman holding it. A scream of hellish pain...

Blood splatter...

In the gaze of this peasant guy, you seem to see the shadow of impending death.

The next second, the head of the orc lying on his shields turns red – a powerful blow from an axe (which looks more like a woodcutter's tool than a warrior's weapon) simply split the skull of this green-skinned bastard.

Quickly turning around, you see that the axe is held by a short guy named Rolf, the same one you spoke with a couple of days ago.

Meanwhile, a group of orcs attacks the militia line from several directions.

A cacophony of sounds surrounds you: orc roars, curses, cries of pain, the clang of weapons.

A severed, bloody ear falls to the grass next to you...

A human ear...

You terrifiedly try to crawl back along the ground...

Conflicting thoughts fill your head.

Should you try to find some weapon and continue the resistance?

Or would it be better to try to desert, taking advantage of the fact that the orcs are currently engaged in battle?