Even though we had been outnumbered greater than three-to-one on the banks of the Mississippi, the battle had never really been in question. I credit this not just to our having softened the defenses up with the bombardment and the flooding, but to the fact that the outcome was pre-ordained. Beyond that, or within that, Hreegoths are vicious fighters but not necessarily good fighters. One-on-one, when they have little to distract them, to fight a Hreegoth is a terrifying thing. But en mass, they are too selfish to a coherent force, even with the Enemy driving them from behind.
Wading into a sea of Hreegoth is a daunting task, to be sure, but once the battle is joined they are as wont to fight each other as their adversary for they have been trained since their vile creation to be merciless and destructive. There is no love among them, no “honor among thieves”, only a relentless drive to—first of all—serve their master and, second, to preserve themselves.
This is not to say that attacking a force of them is childs’ play, for it is their wont, once battle be joined, to hack, thrust and sweep until they are victorious or laying dead. And though we won the day by an overwhelming margin, still there were many of our number who fell—some to never rise again.