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Her mind raced with possibilities. The Sand Elves, with their ancient magic and desert strongholds, could offer sanctuary.

Their alliance was uncertain, but Helliana knew they had a reputation for some level of compassion, especially toward those who had suffered great losses.

The desert was a treacherous journey, but it might be their best chance.

Alternatively, they could head further north to the Gnomes. These reclusive and inventive beings were known more for their mechanical marvels than their diplomacy.

Grumpy and selfish, the Gnomes were more concerned with their inventions than the politics of war.

Yet, Helliana wondered if the promise of alliance and trade could sway them. Their defensive fortresses and cunning traps might provide the protection her people desperately needed right now.

As she led the Orcs onward, her thoughts were interrupted by a distant, anguished cry.

Thorgar\'s voice echoed through the night, a haunting reminder of the sacrifices being made. Helliana\'s heart clenched, and she instinctively glanced back, straining to see through the darkness. Her eyes searched for any sign of Thorgar and the brave warriors left behind to stem the tide of King Kraggul and his relentless Hobgoblin army.

"Thorgar . . ." she whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of sorrow and fury.

The sight of their fading figures was enough to fill her with a surge of guilt and helplessness. The loyalty and valor of her comrades tore at her resolve, and every fiber of her being screamed to turn back, to fight alongside them and avenge their fallen kin.

But she knew she couldn\'t. To turn back now would be to dishonor their sacrifices.

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Thorgar\'s voice echoed in her mind, urging her to live, to lead, to ensure the future of their people. The weight of her responsibility bore down on her, and she tightened her grip on the reins, her knuckles white with determination.

The night air was thick with the scent of smoke and blood, the remnants of the battle still lingering.

As they rode, Helliana could see the fear and exhaustion etched into the faces of her people. Each one of them had lost family, friends, and comrades. Yet, they looked to her for guidance, for hope. She couldn\'t let them down.

She needed to go back home and led the others to safety.

Her thoughts returned to the potential refuges. The Sand Elves\' vast desert homeland, with its hidden oases and enchanted defenses, seemed more appealing.

The elves were known for their wisdom and their mastery of magic, which could be a powerful asset against the relentless Hobgoblin horde.

However, gaining their trust and assistance would be no easy feat. The Orcs had to prove their worth, their intentions pure and desperate.

The Gnomes, on the other hand, offered a different kind of security. Their underground cities and intricate machinery provided formidable defenses.

Despite their self-centered nature, the Gnomes were shrewd and practical. Perhaps they could be persuaded to offer sanctuary in exchange for something of value.

Helliana pondered what they could offer –– knowledge, trade, perhaps even an alliance against a common enemy.

The cries of battle grew fainter behind them, and Helliana\'s heart ached with each passing moment. The faces of her fallen kin flashed before her eyes, and she felt the sting of their sacrifices deep within her soul.

Tears welled up, but she blinked them away, her vision focused on the path ahead.

"Hold on, Thorgar," she murmured, her voice barely audible. "Your sacrifice won\'t be in vain."

As they neared a fork in the road, Helliana made a swift decision. "We head to the Sand Elves after we get our people out of the village," she called out, her voice clear and resolute. "Their magic and strongholds might be our best chance."

The Orcs followed without hesitation, their trust in Helliana unwavering. She led them toward the desert, the horizon a distant promise of refuge.

Each step took them further from the immediate danger, yet closer to an uncertain future.

Helliana couldn\'t shake the feeling of dread, the gnawing worry for those left behind. Thorgar\'s bravery haunted her, a constant reminder of the cost of their survival.

She rode on, her heart heavy but her resolve unbroken, determined to honor the sacrifices of her comrades and to lead her people to safety.

The night stretched on, a seemingly endless journey through the darkness. But Helliana\'s spirit burned bright, a beacon of hope for the future of the Orcs. She would find them sanctuary, no matter the cost, and ensure that the legacy of their fallen heroes would live on.

~BoOOomM!~

A thunderous explosion tore through the night, flinging the Orcs from their mounts like leaves in a storm.

Helliana was hurled through the air, the force of the blast sending her sprawling. She hit the ground hard, pain lancing through her body as she rolled to a stop.

Her ears rang with a piercing whine, drowning out all other sounds. Dazed and disoriented, Helliana struggled to push herself up, her vision swimming. Slowly, the world came back into focus, and she took in the scene before her.

The explosion had carved a smoking crater into the earth, its edges glowing with molten rock and flickering flames. Scorched earth and shattered weapons lay strewn about, the remnants of what had once been proud Orc warriors.

The air was thick with the acrid stench of burnt flesh and metal, a grim testament to the power of the blast.

Helliana\'s heart pounded as she surveyed the devastation. Her comrades lay scattered around the impact zone, their bodies twisted and broken. Flames licked at the wreckage, casting eerie shadows that danced in the night.

Steeling herself, Helliana rose to her feet, her legs trembling but her resolve hardening. She could see the Hobgoblins emerging from the darkness, their eyes gleaming with malevolent intent.

The realization struck her like a hammer blow –– their enemies had caught up to them, and there was no stopping them.