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Now, however, these gates were sealed shut with boulders, and the walls were manned by the archers and sorcerers of the Orc Clan.

There was no way north but through this gate. The east was an unforgiving expanse, with treacherous oceans and jagged rocks, impassable and uncharted. The waters were riddled with deadly whirlpools that would devour any vessel. Besides, the Hobgoblins had no boats to brave such perilous seas.

To the west lay the mystified domain of a powerful and ancient witch, a location so feared and enigmatic that no one dared venture there. Even the Hobgoblin King gave up any notion to claim the lands in that part of the map or even passed in that area to circle the Orc\'s encampment.

Even if they possessed the courage, the place was enveloped in an ancient magic, a labyrinthine enchantment that would bewilder and mislead any invaders endlessly. This magic was unbreakable, and entry required the witch\'s invitation.

The Hobgoblins had no choice but to confront the unyielding Gate of the Iron Maw, where the Orcs awaited, ready to defend their homeland to the last man.

The first light of dawn cast a crimson hue over the barren landscape as the Hobgoblin army approached the Gate of the Iron Maw with thunderous marsh. .net

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At the forefront of this formidable force was King Kraggur, a figure both majestic and menacing. Mounted atop a colossal Lizard Wyrm, he cut an imposing silhouette against the horizon.

The Wyrm, a creature of immense size and sinewy strength, moved with a serpentine grace, its scales shimmering like dark armor in the early morning light. Its eyes, cold and reptilian, mirrored the ruthless determination of its rider.

King Kraggul himself was a fearsome sight. Clad in dark, spiked armor that seemed to absorb the very light around him, he carried a massive warhammer, its head adorned with jagged runes that glowed ominously. His helmet, forged in the likeness of a snarling beast, revealed only his piercing red eyes, filled with a malevolent gleam.

Behind him marched his four generals, each a paragon of Hobgoblin brutality. General Gralnok the Vicious, with his blood-red armor and dual scimitars, exuded a palpable aura of savagery.

General Drakthor Bloodfist, a hulking brute, wielded a colossal axe, his every step resonating with the promise of impending doom.

General Morzog the Relentless, known for his unyielding pursuit of victory, carried a spear that crackled with dark energy.

Finally, General Vargash Ironclaw, the strategist, wore an elaborate set of armor decorated with intricate engravings, his sharp eyes constantly scanning the battlefield.

The Hobgoblin army, one hundred thousand strong, stretched out behind them like an unstoppable tide. Rows upon rows of disciplined soldiers marched in perfect unison, their armor clinking rhythmically with each step. Their ranks were interspersed with towering siege engines, catapults, and battering rams, all designed to breach the formidable defenses of the Iron Maw.

As they neared the gate, the Hobgoblins chanted in a guttural, rhythmic cadence, a war cry that echoed across the Barren Wasteland.

Banners bearing the sigil of King Kraggul — a skull impaled on a crimson spear — fluttered in the wind.

The air was thick with the scent of iron and the promise of bloodshed, as the Hobgoblin horde prepared to unleash their full fury upon the defenders of the Iron Maw.

"King Kraggul!" Warchief Kargoth\'s voice thundered across the battlefield, echoing like a war drum. "This is where your conquest ends. While I still have a shred of civility left in me, I command you to leave this land and never return! Your presence here is a stain upon our lands, and I will not allow it to continue. Turn back now, or face the full wrath of my warriors and me!"

A heavy silence descended before King Kraggul\'s laughter boomed through the air.

"Leave? Are you blind, Kargoth?" King Kraggul sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. "Look around you. Do you see the army of Hobgoblins I\'ve brought with me? Do you think we\'ve marched all this way just for a stroll? We\'re here to conquer, to claim everything in our path, and there\'s nothing you can do to stop us.

Your bravado is laughable in the face of such overwhelming power."

King Kraggul\'s face twisted into a menacing scowl, his laughter abruptly stopped. "I won\'t even ask for terms or negotiations. I won\'t even ask for your surrender. Right here and now, I will annihilate every last one of you to the last of your descendants!" he declared, and the Hobgoblin army behind him roared with high morale.

General Thorgar spat on the ground. "Such bold claims for someone who only relies on numbers." He brandished his massive greatsword, the size of his own body, and pointed it at the Hobgoblin King. "We will show you what true strength really is!"

King Kraggul\'s expression darkened, a malevolent shadow crossing his face. "You . . . all of you think that the Goblin and Hobgoblin races are weak," he growled, his voice a low rumble that sent chills down the spines of those who heard it. Raising his hand, his eyes blazed with unbridled fury.

"I\'ll show you the true power of our kind. We will lay waste to your lands, reduce your people to chains, and conquer the entire wasteland! None shall stand in our way!"

Kraggul\'s words hung in the air like a storm cloud, his army of Hobgoblins roaring in approval, ready to unleash their wrath upon the Orcs.

He thrust his hand forward and shouted, "Attack!"

The foot soldiers of the Hobgoblin army were organized into precise groups. One group was tasked with seizing the walls, while another was assigned to ram the gates. Behind them, the supporting army of long-range troops volleyed arrows upon the Orcs stationed at the wall, providing cover for the forces attempting to breach the gate.

Catapults launched massive boulders that crashed against the fortified walls, and siege towers crept forward, their towering frames casting long shadows over the battlefield.

The Orcs, however, did not stand idly by.

"Reduce their numbers as much as possible!" Warchief Kargoth commanded, his voice a roar of authority.

Cauldrons of molten iron were poured down onto the Hobgoblins manning the battering rams. The intense heat melted their shields, rendering them useless. Despite the casualties, when one group was annihilated, another swiftly took their place, determined to ram the gates open.

Meanwhile, the Orcish shamans and sorcerers on the walls unleashed a barrage of magical elements upon the Hobgoblins scaling the fortifications. Flames, lightning, and shards of ice rained down, decimating the attackers.

From the ground, the shamans conjured Earth Muds, towering constructs of rock and soil inscribed with ancient runes. These earthen giants slammed into the helpless Hobgoblins within their reach, crushing them with relentless force.

In retaliation, the Hobgoblin shamans and mages summoned their own constructs — massive Earth Golems that lumbered forward, engaging the Earth Muds in titanic clashes. The ground shook as these elemental behemoths collided, the air filled with the sounds of cracking stone and grinding rock.

Archers from both sides exchanged volleys of arrows, the sky darkened by the sheer number of projectiles. The walls of the Iron Maw were a chaotic battlefield, with Orc warriors fighting tooth and nail to repel the invaders. War cries and the clash of weapons echoed through the air, mingling with the roars of pain and defiance.

As the battle raged on, Warchief Kargoth stood resolute, his eyes scanning the fray. His heart pounded with a mixture of fear and determination. This was a fight for their very survival, and he would not let his people fall without a fierce struggle.

"Hold the line!" he shouted, his voice cutting through the din of battle. "For the honor of the Orc Clan!"

With renewed vigor, the Orcs fought back against the relentless tide of Hobgoblins, their spirits unbroken and their resolve unyielding. The Gate of the Iron Maw would not fall easily, and the Hobgoblins would learn the reason why the Orcs were one of the strongest race in the Spirit Realm.