You are ${your name}, leader of a small orc war band. You are an outcast among your people, driven from the ancient steppes of the orcs by your rivals. But you are young and full of ambition, your lust for battle and plunder has driven you to wander far into enemy territory, into the fertile lands of the humans. Those few fighters that are still with you are fiercely loyal and ferocious, battle-hardened orc veterans, brothers in arms.

This morning, Yellowtooth, your scout, has spotted a trail leading to a small human village, hidden in a pleasant valley, deep within the human lands. It's around noon now, and you have crept close enough to the hamlet to get a good view of it. Perched upon a steep rock, you gaze down, the small settlement peaceful and quiet. It seems only the women and children are left, the men working in the fields or the nearby mines.

The place is all but undefended, your keen eyes spot only two guards, an old man, leaning on his staff as he peacefully slumbers, and a young curly haired fellow, barely old enough to grow a beard. He lad is staring down into the village dreamily, his eyes following a slender young maiden in a flowing long dress as she carries a bucket of water home from the well, her bare feet dancing across the muddy path. Little does this lad now he will never have this fair maiden, never be able to woo her and make her his. Within in minutes she will be yours.

They all will be yours. This village is ripe for the taking.

Your green skin tingles with excitement, thinking of what awaits you. Turning back to your men, you hiss your orders.