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The Orcs knew they had to fight smarter, to utilize every ounce of their strength. They no longer underestimated the Hobgoblins as weaker race. The last time they did, they lost two of their Generals.

The Hobgoblins, on the other hand, understood that they had to be relentless, to exploit every weakness of their foe. The Orcs were never to be underestimated and required strategy to defeat and not just numbers.

As the first light of dawn began to creep over the horizon, both camps stirred with renewed purpose. Weapons were sharpened, armor was donned, and battle cries resounded.

The war drums would soon beat again, echoing across the wasteland. Both sides prepared to clash once more, each determined to emerge victorious.

General Frukin and Grommash\'s death, while a great loss, became a rallying cry for the Orcs. Their sacrifice was a stark reminder of the cost of war, and it fueled their desire for vengeance.

For the Hobgoblins, the death of General Gralnok was a call to arms, a signal that they must fight with every ounce of their strength to honor their fallen and for their King.

As the sun broke over the horizon, casting its first rays over the battlefield, the soldiers of both armies readied themselves for the fight.

The battle would rage on, fierce and unrelenting, until one side emerged victorious.

In the end, only the strongest would survive, and the wasteland would be claimed by the victor.

On this day, the battlefield was different. Instead of dividing their troops, both sides concentrated their forces at the center, ready for a decisive clash that would decide their fate. Winner takes all.

General Kargoth stood at the heart of the Orc army, his presence commanding and fierce. There was no joy or sadness in his eyes, only an indomitable desire to slaughter the Hobgoblins and protect their home.

"King Kraggul!" Kargoth\'s voice boomed across the battlefield. "Your army has dwindled from 100,000 to 30,000, while ours still remains strong, more than half intact."

King Kraggul was silent for a moment before bursting into laughter. "Dwindled? More than half? You mean your 6,000 troops? I am neither old nor blind, Kargoth. I can still count my soldiers, and they still outnumber yours."

"No matter how many you bring, our race is superior. Numbers mean nothing to us! One of us can take down hundreds of you!" Kargoth retorted with a fierce glare. "That\'s a fact."

Kraggul\'s face darkened. "And the fact remains that we have killed two of your Orc generals. So don\'t spew this nonsense about your race\'s superiority!"

Kargoth frowned, his halberd thudding to the ground, shaking the earth slightly. "True, you have slain two of our finest generals. But we have also decimated half your forces. You\'ll need much more than that to defeat the Sand Elves. And even if by some miracle you conquer them, there\'s still the Goliaths and Gnomes, and the powerful race from up north. Your conquest from here on out is over!"

Kraggul was unfazed. "Who said anything about defeating those Sand Elves after we\'re done with you here?"

There was silence in the air, and General Helliana was perplexed by Kraggul\'s words. "What does he mean by that?"

"After we defeat you, we will retreat, regroup, and strike again. We will amass an unstoppable force and march against the Sand Elves. Those prideful creatures won\'t abandon their sanctuaries to eliminate a \'weaker\' race like us while we recuperate.

"In that time, we will grow stronger, and when we return, not even the Sand Elves, Goliaths, or Gnomes will be able to stop us!" Kraggul\'s voice echoed with finality, resolute with no hesitation.

Kargoth\'s eyes narrowed, his grip tightening on his halberd. "So that\'s your plan."

It was clear that a clash was inevitable, with the fate of their races hanging in the balance. The Hobgoblins had already resolved to kill or be killed. There was no going back.

"Then to BATTLE!"

Warchief Kargoth\'s roar signaled the start of the fight.

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General Thorgar and Warchief Kargoth faced the Hobgoblin forces head-on, while General Helliana had a special mission: infiltrate enemy lines with a small, elite unit.

The plan was to use Warchief Kargoth to draw in the bulk of the Hobgoblin army while General Helliana circled around to assassinate King Kraggul.

With only General Thorgar and Helliana left, it was up to them to secure victory and protect their clan and people.

Facing the still formidable Hobgoblin generals Drakthor, Morzog, and Vargash, and their 30,000-strong army, it was risky to use Warchief Kargoth as bait. Yet, this was their best chance to kill King Kraggul and turn the tide of the war.

As the battle raged on, every Orc and Hobgoblin knew that this fight would determine the future of their races. The battlefield crackled with tension, each warrior ready to give their all for their cause. The stakes had never been higher, and the outcome was uncertain.

The Orcs charged with a primal fury, their war cries echoing across the field. General Thorgar and Warchief Kargoth led the front lines, cutting through Hobgoblin ranks without stopping.

Meanwhile, General Helliana and her elite unit moved like shadows, slipping past enemy defenses with a practiced formation. Each step was calculated, each strike precise, allowing them to silently dispatch Hobgoblins in their path. The enemy barely noticed their presence, so focused on the chaos of the front lines –– their eyes were set on the prize: Warchief Kargoth\'s head.

As the clash intensified, Warchief Kargoth\'s strategy began to unfold. The Hobgoblins, drawn to his presence, concentrated their forces on him, leaving gaps in their defenses.

Through the chaos, General Helliana\'s unit advanced stealthily, their target clear: King Kraggul.

The fate of the battle rested on their shoulders, and they moved with the determination of warriors who knew that failure was not an option.

The day was filled with the sounds of clashing steel and the cries of the fallen. Both sides fought with unparalleled ferocity, knowing that the outcome of this battle would mean annihilation.