"Those High Elves are full of surprises. Only three hundred of them, yet they dare to confront my grand army? They truly have a death wish." Her voice dripped with contempt.
She couldn't even be bothered to send troops to deal with them. Those three hundred Ogres and ten Zor Priests were more than enough to handle them with ease.
"There's a human saying that's quite apt: 'This is merely their final, desperate struggle.'"
A reminiscent look appeared in the Ogre Leader's eyes; she still remembered hearing that phrase from a human merchant caravan.
She had to admit, though, that human girl had been so tender... The soup made from her was exquisitely savory, a taste she'd never forgotten.
Leiden listened to the chatter from the front lines. They sounded like diners eagerly waiting for the Elf Tribe to be served up on a platter, ready to be carved and devoured.
