Frostine crouched as small as she could behind the huge jagged boulder. It was shaped like a lopsided chicken egg from some huge chicken, it was half as tall as she was, and lying on its side, yet it was so pale gray it was almost as white as she was.

Almost.

Just the chicken egg appearance … nonono, her tummy better not growl hungry again.

As the orc deck wielder, she needed to spread half of the orc platoon horde cards close enough to the battlements above.

There were nearly a hundred orc soldiers to a platoon card but each platoon card shouldn’t be too close together but not too far apart either–and yet the round bronze gateway that would soon appear and release the orcs … it would release them several at a time. So it had to remain hidden enough that the orcs wouldn’t be mowed down the moment they left the gateways.

She had to crawl here and there without being noticed in the slightest, but the toothy gray walls of the battlements formed the hugest grinning face of the biggest massive dwarf face and more than enough to make her vixen heart run colder than any … any … mountain blizzard, yes, mountain blizzard.

She didn’t need to glance at the battlements either.

Better not. If she could see it dwarves could see her, and that could spell the end of this invasion, right away.

Her death even.

All their deaths.

She knew the battlements by heart anyway. Knew that wicked evil dwarven grin. It was famous among her kind.

And today, soon, at noon, it would finally be wiped off the face of this world.