You order the camp to be surrounded.
Of course as this happens, the sentries roar and several of them run back into the camp, no doubt to warn their brethren and inform their rulers, whoever they are.
Sure enough, a group of ten or so Fomorians rushed through the front gate. You lead the men to prepare to meet this 'tide' and instruct archers to thin-out the brutes.
6*
Before the Fomorians even get to the frontline of spears, there's less than five of them alive. The remainder easily gets themselves impaled, slashed and cut down.
The Fomorians who watched the 'battle' from the 'fortifications' cry, roar and yell at this, jumping and pounding the earthworks, before quickly hiding behind the barricades.
It takes a moment for a great number of them to show up at the earthworks again, their large eyes staring at your forces.
There's definitely
more than a hundred of them, your officers comment, perhaps even as many as two hundred.
A Fomorian leader of sorts steps out from the gate. Wielding what could be best described a skull-helmet, a robe of metal chains, and a nasty looking hammer (about the size of your horse), he points at your forces.
Then he roars.
Then he roars again, his hammer high in the air.
"Perhaps this is a challenge, m'liege." The Marshal muses, looking only slightly uncomfortable at the size of the Fomorian up front.
A) "Then I shall go meet this brute and slay him in melee combat!
!B) "Nah, lets rush the Fomorians, because if they're issueing a challenge, they certainly feel melee combat with us!
C) "Ha! Fat chance! Archers, turn him into a pincushion!"