The camp had transformed into a festival ground, the air thick with celebration—the acrid smoke of roasting meat mingling with the sweet tang of fermented berry wine that flowed like water from barrels rolled out from hidden stores personally handled by the orcs since their arrival.
Torches blazed along the walls, their flames casting dancing shadows that made the rough-hewn stone seem alive, pulsing with the energy of victory. Goblins packed the space, their green bodies pressed shoulder to shoulder, voices raised in raucous song and laughter that echoed off the ceiling like thunder trapped in a bottle.
