"A'most ten are still up an' movin', includin' us, plus the merchants an' their priest. As fer the rest, they're all dead or outta action. Where'd you leader folk go, Foreman? The Commander took'n arrow and I dunno where he went after!"
The sharpshooter with the bandaged head, seeming dazed, doesn't say much, seeming very... Focused on his task of watching through the window for more of the foe. He doesn't seem to care that the smoke's too thick to see through.
The other, his rifle ruined in the explosion that burned his hands, follows you helplessly out through the gate. As you get past the worst of the smoke, you find that, despite the horrific casualties, the battle has been won, for a given value of the thing. The enemy are, most all of them, dead, aside from some of their command staff, who remain beyond the range of our guns, 900 meters or so out, after the heavy snipers failed.
About fifteen wounded, mostly dwarves with some humans in merchant's guild uniform, have been assembled under shelter, and are being tended by the fort's medical personnel, with a priest in a ruined white robe, apparently having suffered an injury of some sort himself, praying to a god you don't recognize for aid.
Five or six soldiers, largely unwounded, man the walls. It would appear that many of the guns failed during the battle, with the remains of shattered small arms littering the ramparts, at least aside from the two places, sooty and filled with scrap metal, where cannons appear to have exploded with their powder.
The two soldiers from the caverns, comparatively unharmed, if shellshocked, come through the gate behind you, looking horrified.