Gouts of flame tore along several sections of the wooden walls of Cove. Billowing black smoke smeared the twilight sky like a bruise, choking the crisp Winter air with a bitter, oily tang impossible to breath. The fire painted blood upon that which it sought to devour, before leaving it charred and pitted and ruined. The furious blaze twisting timbers and scorching earth. Casting grotesque shadows. Sinuous, insubstantial spectres clawing in flickering agony. Beyond the wall, a tide of shrieking green roiled in the throes of violent lust, as it seemed that every hole and hut for miles had belched forth its noxious occupants and set singular purpose to a thousand minds...to scour these lands of men. And with the setting of the sun, when light diffuse dwindled, so rose the strength of the orc.