The arrows never stop flying. 

Crawling through the mud, you watch as unlucky comrades around you are caught in the volleys.  A grunt and a thud, in the trench in front of you one falls, reaching his hand out to you.  Crawling over to him you rip off his armor, trying to stop the bleeding.  Almost impossible with the arrow lodged in his chest, ripping it out would only kill him faster.

You sit there cradling him, trying to offer some small comfort in his final moments.  He tries to speak, but only a gurgling sound emerges as crimson red trickles out of the side of his mouth.  One final sigh and his whole body relaxes, his head falls back.  His glassy eyes stare at you, only seeing emptiness.

Placing him down, you continue to trudge through the mud.  Around you more have fallen, and will continue to fall.  A dark purple blast of energy flies overhead, frying some unfortunate.

You make a run for the trees.  Never running in a straight line, you start right, then dart left as you dive behind a tree.  A few arrows lodge themselves in the ground beside you. 

Damn elves.

You think back to how the elves had first come peacefully.  Offering promises of power and strength.  The orcs didn't want anything to do with them and their magic.  The next time the elves showed up; however, it was in force.  Looking to capture conscripts for their fight against the Empire.  The orcs wanted nothing to do with their war, but since the elves brought it to our doorstep, we had now come to retaliate. 

The elves, unable to fight a war on two fronts, were sure to crumble. 

But this all started four years ago.  Turns out elves have incredible resolve... which you intended to break.