Korg felt the surge of his homeland's magic—the warmth of the trees, the strength of the roots. With a guttural growl that sounded like an avalanche, he slammed his massive fists into the ground, creating a shockwave that sent a hundred Reavers flying into the air like ragdolls.
"You... small ones..." Korg rumbled, his voice thick with emotion as he stood back up to his full, terrifying height. "You have heart."
He reached down, grabbing a fallen ivory pillar from the palace gates to use as a makeshift mace. Beside his massive feet, the Elven Spear-Wardens locked shields, their silver armor clashing against the jagged black steel of the demons.
"They aren't just fighting for a Queen anymore!" Verdant roared from the center of the fray, his blade carving a path toward Korg. "They are fighting for every blade of grass, every stone in the forge, and every child sleeping in the ivory towers! Push them back to the hell they crawled out of!"
