Sorry for the delay, was busy this weekend.
But we are nearing the end of the first act, Olga Discordia is within reach.
Now I do hope you are enjoying the story now that the 'boring' parts are all over. So enjoy some actions and the appearance of a familiar face.
The Hand of Suffering
Chapter 08: Fighting all the Way
Reginald ducked to the left, swinging his scythe up and slicing through the torso and head of the orc that attacked him. With a twist he stabbed another through the chest, and following up by bisecting two more when he ripped his weapon free from the corpse.
They had ran into an orc warband, about a thousand strong, a meagre number compared to the host that had been assembled to assault the Black Fortress. But it was costing them time, his time. With a single swipe he decapitated an orc and moved for the head of the army. He would find the orcs leader, kill him and any successive commanders and leave the orcs to collapse in on themselves without anyone to rally to.
How fragile an army was without anyone to give order.
"Take them out boy! We got this in the bag!" Vault shouted somewhere over the din of battle.
The man loved to boast. Never did a word not pass his lips that didn't appear to be a command or an attempt at glorifying himself. Reginald could feel the barest of emotions when it came to others, for his enemies he often felt detached and uncaring for them. Vault had earned a special kind of disgust and dislike from him, one that grew with each passing day he marched with them.
His soldiers glorified him as some sort of hero, a legendary figure that could not be defeated. His charisma and ability to sway others was impressive, but it bordered on pure arrogance and the superiority he held for himself was beyond infuriating. Reginald had come to learn that when he had been captured back in the Valley. And further exemplified when he had marched with him towards Diohart.
His own self control is what was keeping him from killing the man. At least for the moment.
"Kin, blow these bastards apart!" Vault yelled.
Reginald watched as a barrage of arcane missiles tore through a group of orcs, before a slew of troops rushed through the gap to fight the stragglers. It was going to be a quick battle, fifteen thousand mercenaries against a measly thousand orc warband. Hardly called a fair battle, Vault seemed to agree when they came across the orcs, called it practice.
Most of the men that were conscripted into this army were fresh recruits, having been brought on not long after returning to Diohart. Every single one of them was not much of a warrior, sheer numbers and lucky strokes of the sword got results here.
But if it continued to be like that there would be too many dead before they reached Garan. All wars are one of attrition, because a battle strips a sliver of strength each time it is fought, and if they kept getting into fights with these warbands they would not have the numbers to fight any larger forces that inhabit this region.
Hence why he had to put in extra effort to make sure these fools stayed alive long enough to sell their lives somewhere down the line.
Reginald pushed his way to the front, carving through any orc or demonic entity in his way before he caught sight of the orc leader. Like all its kind it had grey skin, was taller than the average human, although unlike the orcs of his world they were obese and daft. Their race was almost similar to that of the ogre, brains and brawn most of all, although not as tall. Truthfully the comparison was pointless, these mongrels died with ease.
"Doggy! Why you fight for squishy humans!?" The orc chieftain bellowed when it caught sight of him.
Reginald did not bother to speak, simply flicking his scythe in several arcs and killing any orc that came close. As the chieftain stepped forward Reginald leaned to the side and avoided the swipe of the axe, but the orc was smart, to be a Chieftain one had to be more than just strong but also cunning.
Older orcs often were bigger, and knew how to not die. Problem was that they didn't learn, they kept to the old tricks that kept them alive for so long. Mainly they didn't know how to adapt, they have been fighting humans for so long they don't know anything remotely superior. And superior Reginald was.
A flick of his scythe and the hand came off, weapon along with it, with a second swing its leg came off at the knee. As the beast howled Reginald finished it with a swing to the neck, its head parted its shoulders. As it fell the remains of its commanders struck, lunging without thought to try and avenge their former master and likely try and gain some form of respect for slaying their former leaders slayer. They died quick, limbs and heads came apart, and within a minute over twenty of the beasts lay at his feet.
He had faced these creatures dozens of times, he had almost come to memorise their otherwise formless skill with a weapon. It was surprising that such a savage race that had no finesse seemed to always swing their swords and stab their spears the same way. It made it almost too easy to end them, it was only difficult now because he had restrained himself from using most of his runic power against the creatures.
Anonymity is a must, these Black Dogs could not be trusted.
"Excellent work on those orcs, you are turning out to be a real asset." Vault said.
Reginald did not care for the words, and he certainly didn't like the pat on the back he received. He was doing as he wanted, gaining the trust of the soldiers around him, he kept them alive in and out of combat and they knew to not test him.
But there were issues he was beginning to take into account, issues that he was wondering if he should accept or not. He had voiced no discontent or even showed any displeasure at the continual disrespect they threw upon him. He may feel little to no emotion, but there were limits to how he would allow others to perceive him, for even at the best of times he had to make sure his own impulses did not overcome him.
Although it felt appealing to consider tearing these mercenaries apart.
"Orcs have been cleared out boss, nothing left." Hicks, the short brown haired man wore little in the way of armour, only a vest and some baggy pants.
One wrong move and he was a dead man, some called it a sign of honor and courage to forgo armor. Idiots, honor is worthless to the dead, and an arrow or tainted weapons edge can be the end of even the strongest of men. He had also seen that custom amongst the Shield Knights, forgoing heavy armour and protection to be closer to nature, some custom he had heard that was brought about by the Goddess.
No wonder they had to rely on mercenaries, how many of those Knights died because they didn't have any real armour to protect them.
"We take the camp, take any supplies and we set up there." Vault said.
This had been the six camp that Vault had seen to destroy on their way to the Black Fortress, the purpose was twofold. First it would allow for their forces to bunker down in a location that the orcs occupy and didn't have to set up any defences. Second, in Vault's own words, this gave the green boys a chance to test their skills against the orcs and earn their place.
Vault may not be the most humble of men but he knew how to lead, and he was giving the fresh recruits a chance to bloody their blades and learn how to fight. Smart, but he had a habit of using full frontal assaults to simply overwhelm the enemy, he relied on numbers to hold an enemy in position and then use tactics when they were stuck in a stalemate.
Had the man fought anyone with half a brain he would have lost half his army in a matter of minutes with such foolish command skill. But considering the enemy he faced, he supposed efficiency through simplicity was the way to go.
Yet there was something that made his curious.
Vault had information that no one else had. Every single day when they marched out into the unknown in a seemingly random direction they found an orc camp. They headed north, for the most part, but every single day at dusk they would come across an orc camp with minimal numbers and perfect for their army to camp.
How in the Nether did he know exactly where they were? This far out into the Badlands was uncharted, not even the Goddess knew how big the Badlands were. So where did Vault get the information on these orc camps?
Reginald ignored this for now, he was not privy to Vault's plans or his schemes.
It didn't matter in the end, whatever he was up to would survive past Garan.
"Hey dog, do what you got to do in the camp." Vault said, calling out to him just as he turned to leave.
It irked him, to be made out to be a pet for these mongrels.
Reginald was once considered a potential candidate for the Horsemen, he would have been the Rider of Death. Even after the fall of the Lich King his presence in the Ebon Blade was high and respected, and he was powerful. Most Worgen Death Knights were, their very nature made them prime candidates for manipulating the vital energies of life and death.
But now he had been relegated to the task of halting the spread of the life siphoning magic within the soil and cleansing all disease from the soldiers. How low he has fallen, he took to the duties regardless as he had offered this to them, but helping them now did not appear to be in the best interest of everyone.
"Also be sure you do something with the food, last thing I want is diarrhoea, got better things to do than nearly shit myself when I am with a woman." Hicks said, turning to follow his commander.
Reginald ignored the man and moved for the centre of this orc camp. With a single wave of his hand he formed a runic circle at his feet, gathering all the power he could from the Shadowlands he began to channel the spell.
The Badlands had two major obstacles to overcome, aside from orcs and other wild beasts, it was the life sapping power within the earth and the diseases that ran rampant here. Reginald was the only being in Eostia that had the means to counteract both.
It was quite simple really to halt the life siphoning energies within the soil, as they were magical in nature all he had to do was make that magic inert. Death Knights were designed to be the most dangerous force on the battlefield and capable of countering almost anything they came across. While Death Knights are the antithesis of the Paladins they were not designed to solely face and counter them, in fact they could counter nearly anything. Mages, Shamans, Warlocks, Druids, even rival Necromancers.
Reginald was particularly skilled in the regard of being an anti-magic user, having refined the art of nullifying magical energies. Where he could create a dome of energy around himself to nullify magic he could redirect that energy into the very ground and make the magic that saps the life of all who step upon it inert. Doing this Reginald could create a thirty radius around himself that would allow the army to march unaffected by the dark magics in the soil. And since the magic was nullified in a large area it would take time for any harmful effects to return.
After that it was the diseases, and being that he was most notably a necromancer the manipulation of the body and diseases came hand in hand. He would tend to the sick and make sure they were healthy, even giving their own bodies a kick to help them recover from serious illness.
He had demonstrated this to Celestine's confidant when he had offered her the deal, it was the only reason she had accepted his help otherwise. She was desperate to stop the war, and he was the only one that could help her do it.
With a raised claw he brought it down, and immediately the energy shot out over the camp. They would be safe for tonight, able to sleep and rest here without worry of being killed in their sleep. At least by the magic of the Badlands.
"Good work dog, now bring everyone in and get settled! We are having a party tonight!" Vault yelled.
Reginald had not bothered to tell them his name, he hadn't even told Celestine. He wasn't going to change that now. Especially with the kinds of people they were and what they used for entertainment.
"Hurry up! I'm starving and I haven't been laid since this morning!" Someone had shouted, and Reginald had enough decency in his undead body to grimace at the statement.
It only worsened when the carts came in, most carried food and water, with other essential supplies to reach the Black Fortress. Although in two carts there were a couple dozen items that were only essential to most basic of needs, and it sickened him that they brought them here.
Women, young beautiful scantily clad woman. Chained to the cart and paraded around like a prize, or a caged animal that had lost the will to go on. Most of them had a dead look in the eye, having experienced such horrible things that they didn't have the strength to fight anymore. Others had simply retreated from the world and lived in whatever fantasy their minds could dream up to escape the horrors of the reality they had been subject to.
"Nice huh? Might try out the Light Elf tonight. You got any preference?"
Reginald did not know the man, he had decided to only keep his circle of comrades small in this company, and calling them comrades was too much of a positive for him to use. He disliked all that he knew, and he was not going to make friends with any of them when this was done. But he turned to regard the sergeant with a blank stare before he pivoted on his feet and moved off.
He wasn't going to sit around and listen to this debauchery, it nearly made him feel ill.
Taking a tent on the far side of the camp he walked into it and took a seat on a cot, although he had no need for sleep he had found these last few days taxing. He would wait here until dawn came and they were ready to march, spending time with these brigands had become difficult. The Black Dogs had shaped up to being the complete opposite of what the people said about them, in almost every way.
Although he had his suspicion on what kind of group they were, they still blew away his expectations by how worse they appeared to be.
"I am surprised no one has caught them, although… perhaps the only ones that know are not the most honourable of sorts." Reginald mused to himself quietly.
He would need to figure out what those dogs are up to, they were planning something and if how they were moving soldiers in to the Untouched Valley meant anything. They were not going to be doing it for the benefit of the people. He had thought that the Zelindo Nobles and the Church would be the problem, it seems he didn't considered the Black Dogs.
"Now I know I have to leave them to rot here." Reginald mused, although this time he would need to make sure they definitely didn't come back.
Escape.
That was the only thing on her mind right now, getting out of here with her best friend or die trying. Because at the moment death was better than years of torture and rape. Grace Campbell couldn't take this much longer, every day she suffered at the hands of these bastards. Before that it was Morgan and his group of slavers, and she was not going to live out the rest of her possibly short life being used like this.
"I think I can break the chain!" Grace whispered, looking to her friend Anna.
They were a unique pair, a Light Elf and Dark Elf, two clans separated by millennia of mistrust and customs and here they were. Trapped together as slaves, and before that they were neighbours in a small village outside of Ansur. Herself as a single widow living next to a recently married couple, they were an odd sort being a human marrying a Light Elf, but she didn't judge.
"What's the point? We are in the badlands, we won't get out of here, we are going to die here." Anna said, weeping as she held herself tightly.
"I would rather die out there with some of myself left than in this cage with some bastard rutting me like a rabbit. Now let me break those chains and we can get out of here." Grace said, using the rusty knife she had picked up from the last orc camp to file away at the chains that bound them. Just a little more and they could get out.
She heard a snap as the chain finally broke, for the first time in nearly a year she felt a sense of freedom. These chain had been holding her down to beds, cots and in cages for so long and to see them broken gave her relief she didn't know she could feel anymore.
But her elation ended there, the other slaves in the cart were already being dragged out. Some tried to resist and others were dragged like lifeless dolls, to weak and broken to fight back. Grace wouldn't allow herself to be subjected to another night of torture, she was escaping. As the man drew close to unlock her chains she stabbed him in the shoulder with the rusty knife she had. He screamed and fell from the cart, and as his fellows rushed to him Grace leaped off the side.
She turned back and grabbed Anna's hand. "I will come back for you, I promise, just stay strong!"
"Hey! You!"
Grace didn't bother to look, instead she turned and ran. She had to get out of the camp and move along the path that they came, she couldn't risk being caught. If they didn't kill her right away they would rape her over and over again before doing it. She wasn't going to let that happen, she would kill herself before she let herself be subjugated to another round of torture.
She weaved between the orc tents and tried to find a way to the border of the camp, but there were so many Black Dogs that hindered her escape. Eventually she was forced to a stop when a large man appeared and grabbed her. She struggled for all her worth and all it did was send her tumbling into a tent.
The man was above her, smiling with intent as he held her down and started to tear at the few cloths she had covering herself. He smiled, eager to have his way with her and all for himself, but he seemed to hear something and looked to the side and froze.
Grace turned and she herself froze. That thing was there, the creature that the Black Dogs had brought along that could lead them through these Badlands. The armoured werewolf, it was sitting there regarding them with a cool gaze. It icy blue eyes pulsed with power and regarded them with as much interest as one would take fascination with an ant.
"Hey there… good boy… now just stay there and be good okay?" The mercenary said, raising a placating hand to try and calm the creature. He looked genuinely scared of it, she could understand that easily. "I'll even let you have a go afterwards, sounds good don't it?"
"Knife." The creature intoned, dark and grating to the ears.
Grace turned back to the man above her, and saw a knife hanging from his belt. She reached for it and pulled it out, then jammed it into the side of the bastard above her. He fell away and held onto the weapons, howling as it looked at the likely fatal wound. Now he was truly scared.
"Bitch! I'll fucking kill you bitch!" He yelled, trying to stand, only to repeatedly fall back down.
"Again." The werewolf said, sitting there observing the entire thing.
"W-what? The fuck are you doing? Kill her asshole! Help me!" The Mercenary yelled.
Grace leaped forward and kicked the man onto his back, then used her weight to hold him down before she ripped the dagger from his side and then stabbed it back into his side. He yelled out again, but she pulled it free and then kept doing so until he was dead. She stumbled back, covered in blood and her heart beating out of her chest.
Soon enough she felt something cold and hard pressed against her back, turning she found that the werewolf had finally stood up. The knife came up, a futile gesture against a large armoured lycanthrope, but what else could she do.
"It is cathartic isn't it? Killing those that torment you, but it is unsustainable, it will always never be enough." The werewolf said, taking the knife from her hand. "But do not lose faith, you won't be feeling that pain for much longer. None of you will."
His clawed hand reached out for her.
Vault leaned back onto the throne he had taken from the orc chieftain, large and imposing, just as he liked it. Although the feeling of superiority and strength he had didn't give him much joy as he listened to the dumb fuck that got himself stabbed. The man had one job and that was to look after the damn girls, make sure they ate and didn't die because of something stupid and make sure the men didn't overdo it.
Them girls were the only pussy they would be getting until they got to Garan, so they had to last about another week. And now he is being told that a slave got a knife, stabbed him, and then ran off and hasn't been found yet.
"What a joke, you let some dainty little girl stab you? How pathetic can you get?" Hicks said aloud, he always did like riling others up, and Vault did at times like it when he demeaned the more stupid men they had under their command.
But this was not one of those times.
This moron, if he survived the final battle at Garan, was going to be dealing with this fuck up for years, getting stabbed by a woman. A slave no less. That was going to be haunting him for the rest of his life and Vault knew for damn sure that the men would never let him forget it.
"Where is she?" Vault asked, expecting an answer he liked.
"No idea, she took off, but someone had to have seen her. She couldn't have gotten far." The wounded boy said, young and still dumb.
"You didn't go after the one that stabbed you, how pathetic can you be? A little stab wound like that and you don't even bother trying to go after her?" Vault said, he hated it when men got a scratch and they acted like they were dying.
He had to make example of the few idiots that didn't do their job, if he didn't the rest of them would complain about anything that happened to them. He wasn't going to be their mother, this was the best damn Mercenary company in the world and he was not going to let them sully that reputation.
"She fucking stabbed me! I felt it scrape bone!" He cried out.
"And yet you are here now, you got the strength to stand and complain to me and not go after that bitch? Makes me think you were scared to go after her, afraid of getting hurt again?" Vault said, this guy needed to be taught how to be tough.
He tried to deny the accusations and defend his actions, didn't do much other than make him out to be more of a weakling to the rest of the men. This new recruit was never going to go far, he could serve for the rest of his life but this moment would keep him down for the rest of his career.
"Get the fuck out of here." Vault said, waving the little prick off. "And all of you, get out there and find that girl."
"No need."
Vault flinched as he heard the growl, mixed with the tinge of ringing steel and echoes of the damned. He looked up and strolling into the centre of the village was that werewolf. Everyone parted before him, like he was some kind of king that had graced them with their presence. But the Mercenary Commander knew that it was fear that made the men give way to the beast, something he could respect.
Vault would never admit it but that thing caused him a great deal of concern.
It never spoke, something that was a blessing, but it made understanding its motives harder. What the hell did Celestine have that it wanted, and how did it con her into making this deal? He would love to know. Apart from that it was armed, armoured and imbued with magic, being part of a very dangerous demonic race also made it particularly deadly. How the hell was he meant to keep control of that thing?
Kin had been attempting to find a way to counter it, even study the things magic to try and replicate it. Sad to say Kin was clueless, for the damn smartest man in the entire Alliance he didn't have an idea what kind of magic this thing used. Because as of now they realised that containment didn't mean jack for this thing, it could get out at any time.
"What the hell is this?" Vault demanded, seeing the corpse of one of his men on the thing's shoulder, along with a dark elf being dragged by the neck into the centre of the village.
The werewolf then threw the dark elf onto the ground before tossing the body of one of his soldiers down next to her. Multiple stab wounds could be seen, his torso was littered with them, and one payed close enough attention they could see the bloody hand of the Dark Elf. Vault narrowed his eyes, the girl wasn't so fragile after all, she could kill.
"One of your men is dead, she killed him." The werewolf stated, leaning forward and picking up the girl.
"I see, then she needs to be dealt with." Vault said, he had a few ideas on how to go about that.
"Agreed." The werewolf said, lifting her up and making her look at Vault.
He was about to say something, even order his men to have at her, before he heard a crack. She went limp in the werewolf's arm, and with an unceremonious toss threw her body towards the fire. Her carcass landed on the fire and collapsed into it, she couldn't be seen beneath all the wood and cinders, but she would definitely be charred. Vault was honestly surprised, he had killed her without a single ounce of hesitation.
"Kind of a waste don't you think?" Vault said, he was hoping to remind the rest of the slaves what happens when they go against them. "Was going to make a example of her to the rest of them."
"You are a fool if you think raping them is a tactic, they get that enough already, they are deadened to it, death is but a mercy in the end. Instant death however reminds them that they have no chance of surviving. That their best chance, is to remain as they are." The werewolf said, turning around and moving off.
Vault narrowed his eyes, he didn't like this one bit. Right now he was overlooking a lot, from the disobedience to the insult and the disregard of his authority. But it was the odd bout of wisdom that spewed from its jaw that worried him, this beast was smarter than he gave it credit for. Smart is dangerous, it meant that they didn't like being a servant.
You see it all the time in the well educated nobles, they had half a brain and thought because they knew more than the common farmer they deserved better. This is why he didn't allow nobles into his cadre, because they were outspoken and stupid. But this bastard here, he was smart, pragmatic, and most of all did not care for his authority.
He would need to watch him closely.
Reginald sometimes wondered why he was even doing this.
Why he was going out of his way to help Celestine Lucross end this war. Why he was helping a pack of mercenaries that were just as bad as the orcs they fought regularly. Why was he doing anything? Simple answer was that he was helping the people of the Untouched Valley, but even that raised the question on his ultimate motives in protecting them.
He had done a lot over the last five years, put a lot of time and effort into protecting people and this nation from threats they did not know about. But worst of all he was doing it for the people that didn't care for his good deeds and would happily see his head on a spike.
Reminds him of the Alliance, allied with them against the Lich King and he still gets called a monster. Fights their battles and wars and gets labelled a creature of evil. Even when the Worgen joined the Alliance he was still considered a taint that shouldn't defile the holy stones of Stormwind. Or any other city.
Oddly he had more respect here than back home, the people of the Valley paid homage for his deeds and had nothing but respect and dedicated more to him than even the Goddess they worshipped. He would think that is funny, that they consider him more worthy of worship than the holy goddess herself.
But still the question remained, why was he doing this?
Perhaps he is simply living an echo, a term used by Death Knights that try inanely to rekindle their lost lives by living like they used to. Acting how they once did when they lived, trying to find family or even return to the profession they once performed. Most turned from this path when they realised they would never be the same.
Some stubbornly held on. Maybe that was him, stubbornly holding onto his old teachings and failing to let go. Odd really. He wondered what he was drawing on. His failed training as a Paladin or his years as a Mage Knight of the Kirin Tor that he desperately tried to substitute for his expulsion from the Order of the Silver Hand.
Maybe it was her.
"Pointless." Reginald mused, entering his tent and taking a seat back on the cot.
He would act as he saw fit, he had not endured this unlife full of persecution and loneliness just to crawl up and wait to decompose. Madness would come long before that, the last thing he would want is for his final moments to be lost in uncontrolled rage.
"They think you are dead, this works to our mutual benefit. Do you not agree?" Reginald said, looking to the other side of the tent.
To anyone else they would see nothing, an empty void where no one sat. But for him his eyes perceived past the material world and into the immaterial one, the Shadows to be exact. Sitting there on the pile of rags was the elven woman he had spared, looking at him pensively and likely terrified at the realm she inhabited.
Understandable, scarier things than orcs lurked in that dark domain.
"Why am I alive?" She asked, terror lacing her words.
He had not truly killed the Dark Elf as suspected by the Black Dogs, he had in fact created nothing but an illusion. Death Knights were not mages, but that did not mean that they could not learn the arcane. As said before Death Knights were trained to counter almost any force in the world, and to best counter an enemy one must know how their powers work.
Death Knights could steal and even harness the powers of their enemies, stealing spells and even magical effects from objects to use for themselves. He himself had learned many spells from his enemies, not because it was a talent but because he recalled all his teachings from when he was training within Dalaran. He was a former mage, and that only benefited him for when he expanded his repertoire of skills.
"Because I have need of you." Reginald replied.
"I won't be made to suffer anymore." She said, looking ready to run, she obviously mistook his meaning.
"I do not intend such things for you, be at ease, for my interests in you lay only in what knowledge you have of present company." Reginald replied. "Tell me everything you know about the Black Dogs. Spare no detail."
He needed to know who his enemy was, and while Olga Discordia remained his target he would still need to ascertain the threat that was the Black Dogs. After all, he did not for a second believe that these mercenaries were going to be his friends for much longer.
Eight more days and they had reached their destination, the Black Fortress of Garan.
The black stone spire that was the fortress was over four hundred feet in height, like a dagger stabbing towards the sky. Surrounding it were imposing black stone walls, fifty feet in height easily and littered with dozens of spikes and thorns to prevent anyone from hoping to scale it. It was as imposing as Ken, and likely just as difficult to breach.
Only one entrance could be seen, the very large steel doors that were close in height as the bloody walls they were embedded within. Moving those would be near impossible, they would need specialised siege equipment to get through that. As least the Black Dogs, he intended to scale the walls.
"Damn, never thought we would actually get here." Hicks spoke aloud.
"But we are here, and we are ready." Vault said.
Reginald did not believe that, looking down at the very edge of the fortress he could see dozens of camps. Orc warbands were camped outside the fortress, by estimates of the camps sizes and the usual number of orcs there were they were going to have to get through a force of twenty thousand before they can reach Olga. And that was just with what was within sight, who knows how many more camps were around here.
"Still a lot of orcs down there, don't think we have enough men to push them back." Vault said, hand resting on his chin as he thought up a solution. "We need to kill their chieftains. Or what ever Chieftain they have."
Smart plan, cause infighting before they engage to thin the enemies numbers. But he doubted a single one of the men here could infiltrate the warbands camp by himself and assassinate a Chieftain, let alone several of them. Although he suspected that it would be himself to do the deed.
"Dog, I got a job for you." Vault said, turning a smirking towards him. "Sneak in and kill the bastards. And leave that armour along with the weapon, they will draw too much attention."
Reginald knew what he was doing, even if there was a logic that he himself would have deduced, Vault wanted to remove any tactical advantage he had. He could almost respect a man that knew when he was in the presence of his better, but when he was the better being stripped of his advantage he knew that he wouldn't be getting it back.
"Remember not to hold onto it for too long, unless you want to lose your mind." Reginald warned, making sure that they wouldn't try to tamper with it.
He removed his armour, piece by piece and placing it in a pile right next to himself. He stripped right down to his leggings, simple dark blue pants that shared the same colour as his orders namesake. With a look at his final item, his Scythe, Nightrend, he never did like parting with this weapons. Even for good cause, but within a heartbeat he buried the weapon into the stone next to him. Let's see if they can free it from there.
"You will know when they are fighting." Reginald replied, rushing forward and leaping over the slope and down the hill.
He slid down to the ground and started prowling towards the camp.
Coming close he could hear the hollering and grunts of the orcs, dumb beasts they were. He snuck through their ranks easily enough, hiding in the dark and observing them. He forwent using the Shadows around them, doing so often attracted their attention, odd how using magic connected to the shadows seemed to catch their attention.
The estimates were correct, the orcs had a large number of soldiers present, but they might have underestimated the numbers by a few thousand. This battle will be a tricky one to win, even he nearly failed when he held back that army of five thousand a few months ago. Even with the support of the Black Dogs right now they were vastly outnumbered.
A guttural call sounded nearby, he could see a Chieftain, beating to death one of his subordinates. Now the trick was not only killing him but also to incite fighting, a difficult task given that orcs technically did not fight one another unless necessary. They only fought when they tried to reach a higher position and they were oddly with few casualties, so how to make this affair a bloody one?
He turned around and moved from the camp, approaching another, within he found another pack of orcs and their chieftain celebrating some inane victory over something. But he noticed the colour of the orcs banner, they were of a different clan or tribe, an idea sprung in his mind.
"Time to cause some havoc." Reginald mused.
He approached three orcs, killing them quietly, no cuts or lacerations were made, he needed to keep them intact. As they dropped he pulled their bodies into the Shadows, and there he revived their corpses. Directing them to their destination, he did the same with several other groups of orcs.
He continued for the next hour, moving from camp to camp and collecting a few of their soldiers. Killing and then reviving them as undead, and then he sent them out towards another camp. Now came the tricky part, making chaos happen in an orderly manner.
"I am going to need you for this." Reginald said, turning and beckoning the woman closer.
"What the hell can I do?" Grace said, looking terrified at the prospect of what he would have her perform.
"I need your feminine wilds."
Grace couldn't believe she had been forced to do this, but what choice did she have? If she didn't then she was likely as good as dead to him, the only reason he has spared her was because she likely was still of use. She had to keep up the status quo otherwise there was nothing keeping him from leaving her to die in this hell hole.
Although to make her do this he had to do something for her, he had agreed almost instantly and she worried he was lying. But to do this, no matter how complicate she was, Grace did not like the idea.
"What you Mezzog orcs doing here?" One of the nearby orcs yelled, her guides didn't respond as they pushed her along and towards the centre of the camp.
"Hey! They got a Dark Elf! Pretty one! Big boobs!"
Grace fought down her revulsion as she was forced through the camp and towards a particularly ugly and big orc. One she did not wish to be defiled by, this thing was a monster and the way it looked at her and scratched its crotch all but told her it had one thing on mind.
"Why you Mezzog bastards here?" The Chieftain said, jagged teeth jutted from its jaw as it loomed over her and her escort.
She was nudged forward by one of them, that was her cue to speak.
"I… I was sent as a tribute… they respect your strength… I am an offering for their clan to join yours…" Grace said.
The Chieftain looked confused by the gesture, then he laughed along with everyone else in camp.
"Why you come here for?" The Chieftain said, looking at the orcs.
"They… they want to join your clan, all of them. They don't want to follow their Chieftain anymore, he is a coward." Grace said, speaking on their behalf. "If you kill their Chieftain the entire clan joins yours. Makes your clan stronger, strongest."
The Chieftain rubbed its chin, intrigued by the prospect, before he seized her arm and dragged her off towards its tent.
"Let us hear this proposal then! Do not disturb me, I want to test this new sock!" The Chieftain yelled, dragging her into the tent and throwing her down onto its large cot. "You will feel nice on my cock."
"Wait! Wait!" Grace said, trying to back away as he seized her leg and dragged her close.
"Stay still, or I rape your corpse!" The Chieftain yelled, seizing her neck and gripped it tightly enough that it threatened to break.
Grace could do nothing as it worked on its shorts to release itself, and she dreaded the prospect of dying like this. Being used and then discarded by this monster, why had she agreed to this?
A sword pierced the orc through the chest, sticking out of its breast as it let out a roar. It released her and staggered back and turned, to receive an axe to the stomach, but it still did not falter. The escort that had brought her here were attacking, hacking into the wounded Chieftain for all its worth. Two were killed, one with its head ripped off by the larger orc and another having its torso punched in.
"Bastards! I will kill…" The chieftain fell to the ground as a sword lodged itself into its throat.
Struggling to stop the blood the orc nearly had its head torn off when the sword was wretched out of the throat. By then another group of orcs charged into the tent, attacking the assassins that murdered their Chieftain.
Grace didn't see anymore, something touched her shoulder and she was no longer in the real world but the shadowy oily world that moved parallel to it. She could make out the shadows of the orcs killing one another, but she turned back to the werewolf that had saved her.
"What took you so long!?" Grace yelled.
"Told you, the orcs would protect you, and besides I needed to make sure each of the assassinations went off right. Now we wait for the fighting to begin."
"What about what you promised me?" Grace yelled.
"Do not worry, you are free to go. Leave now, they will help you." Reginald replied.
She looked behind her to find a group of undead orcs standing there, waiting for whatever command she is to give.
Vault fell back onto his cot and let out a satisfied sigh, he was glad he brought those slaves with him. Quite enjoyable in fact, to have something to plough into when you had the chance, back in Eostia he could only do this from the safety of Diohart without raising too much suspicion.
Sure he had a few woman come to his bed whenever he passed a village, but there was a problem with it. Complicity, the woman came to him and fawned over him for his heroism and rugged good looks, but truthfully it was only so much fun. Even Maia jumping into his lap wasn't going to be fun the second time around.
No, he had a preference. Something that a willing girl could never give him.
But there was something so thrilling about fucking some girl right before and after a battle, that had been proven time and time again after the men went at them. The way they struggled and tried to fight them off, got the blood boiling, it was a perfect way to get ready for a battle or cool down after one. Such a shame they couldn't bring more, only fifty girls for fifteen thousand men wasn't exactly a good ratio for sharing.
The girl he had laying at the foot of his bed was a particularly good lay, those Light Elves were tight and smooth on the skin. Hick's was not wrong, no matter what hole you used they were good. He wondered how good the Goddess was, how smooth her cunt was and how good it would be to take a turn on her.
Soon.
Once he dealt with Olga Discordia he would make sure that bitch got what she deserved. For all these years of exile and hell she had put the people of Eostia through, he was going to fix this broken empire.
"Boss!"
Duncan came charging in, the sergeant looked at his recent lay and smirked.
"Sorry to disturb boss but the orcs are killing each other, we are set to go!"
Vault stood up and moved for his armour, dressing quickly and rushing for the tents exit. He hefted his sword on his shoulder, and as he walked down the small road through the camp the men followed. They slowly built themselves up, his entire army gathered at the edge of the hill and were ready to charge into the fight.
"I want my heavy infantry at the front, we slam into the bastard and knock them down. From there send in the reserves." Vault said, giving out orders to his men as they marched. "I want the cavalry to flank the enemy after the mages thin the lines, after that we push forward and engage. We get them on every side, keep them contained and make sure they do not flank any of our men."
Vault had planned to lead the western wave of Cavalry, where the fighting would be the thickest and where the most danger lay. It thrilled him to no end to charge into the most dangerous part of a battlefield and come out alive and victorious. Although the practical part of him that his father had hammered into him told the mercenary commander to do the hard jobs yourself, that if you want something done right it should be done by you alone.
The man was a hard ass but he taught him so many valuable lessons. Such a damn shame that the old bastard went to the grave before Vault realised just how right he was about everything.
What he was going to do now following his wisdom, lead the charge and make sure his army was ready for whatever came at them. But he doubted they would be getting any trouble from the west, he had played a lot of cards up till this moment and all of it was coming together. Now to see the fruits of his labour.
Mounting his horse he watched as the first wave of men moved forward, heavily armoured and carrying long spears and shields. These were his big boys, massive in stature and having the strength of an ox, he used them as his own personnel wall of steel. Damn did they fo their job well, because nothing got through them, nothing.
"The men are in position." Hicks said.
"Good. Now Charge!" Vault yelled out, watching as his men ran forward to meet the already battling orcs in melee.
They fell onto the bastards easily, and took them down without so much as a single casualty as his heavy infantry skewered them and then advanced with swords. Behind them were the light infantry, just waiting for their chance to charge in and take the lead.
"Archers! Mages! Blow these bastards apart!" Vault yelled, waving for Kin to give the order.
Soon thousands of arrows flew through the air, and hundreds of twinkling magical orbs went as well. They struck the orcs past the front lines and decimated them, poor bastards were still fighting one another and had no idea what they were doing.
This would be the easiest battle yet, although he had to wonder how in the hell that werewolf had been able to turn these orcs against one another. Boggled the mind really but he seemed more capable than anything he could have suspected. Didn't matter now, his men had carved through the orcs line and it was his time to lead the charge.
"Follow me men!" Vault yelled.
He had six hundred men riding behind him, and he charged them past his front line soldiers and into the scattered orc line. Thinned by the arrows and magic bolts these orcs were run down, crushed under the heavy hooves of his horse and the hundred behind him.
He moved his men all the way along the line until he nearly came to the very walls of Garan, from there he would keep these bastards in check. They would whittle down the enemy and close in on them from all sides.
"Alright you bastards! Let's kill some orcs!" Vault yelled, getting a cheer from his men.
They rushed into the fight, moving to carve up as many of these foul beasts as they could. Vault remained behind, the charge was going well and he had faith that his men could finish this. He had other matters to attend to, he turned to his cavalry commander and gave him a nod.
"Come on, we got to meet up with our friends to the east." Vault said, spurring his horse as he lead his personnel squad towards the western mountains.
Hick was doing his own work as well.
They had just pushed their way closer to the gates of Garan, in fact they had split this army they were facing in two, they had them both surrounded and were slowly hacking them apart. Hicks had to admit the advance was going surprisingly in their favour, although he couldn't figure out why.
"How the hell did we manage that?" Hick said, they had been fighting in the thickest part of the battlefield and there was no way they could push through that quick.
Orcs were notoriously hard to put down, they didn't retreat and their certainly did not know when to quit. So the idea of them actually going down easy was something most rookies thought when they first got onto the battlefield, before they got killed.
Right now, that superstition was coming true.
Even with the orcs having at each other, tearing their own kin apart, didn't make the job all that easier. Made it a little easier, but not this much, for the life of him he couldn't understand why they were dying so quick.
But it was when they came across an entire plane of bodies that they realised why they got through, he smirked a little when he saw the Black Dogs new mascot. The Dog as everyone called it, sitting on top of a hundred or so orc corpses and shouldering a large sword in one clawed hand and an axe in the other.
"I was wondering why it was so easy to get this close, nice job dog, you did good."
Reginald looked down at the irritating brown haired man, his smirk had that effect of making him unlikable simply by being plastered on his face. He also had a nasty habit of taking woman by force, although he could say the same for any one of these Black Dog mercenaries. But this one in particular deserved special treatment, painful treatment.
Regardless of his feelings towards the man he had other matter to attend to.
His job had been quite easy, carving through the orcs during the initial attack had allowed him to kill any remaining leaders in the clans and truly turn this orc army to chaos. They were still fighting one another from what he could see from his perch. This battle would likely rage on for the next hour, there were still thousands to dispatch and even with the orcs fighting itself didn't mean they were going to die quickly.
This orc army was finished, the only downside was that the Black Dogs likely would not take as many casualties as he hoped. Some would survive, although that wouldn't be for long. Vault had no idea about the massive army to the east, nearly as large as the host that sat around these walls and all from the same clan.
As soon as they hear about this battle they would come running to wipe out these humans. Reginald had gotten what he wanted from the Black Dogs, they helped him reach the Black Fortress, now it was time they parted ways.
"Dog, why not get down from there and do something, we are doing all the work now." Hick had called out, the fool actually thought he was in charge.
"About time you Dogs pulled your weight." Reginald replied, rising from his perch and looking to the gates of Garan.
He would need to find a way inside, reach Olga and capture her. The Black Dogs were only a delaying tactic that kept the orcs from perusing him when he entered the Black Fortress. It would be much easier to face Olga Discordia without hundreds of orcs in his way. He would capture the Queen and then he would end this conflict once and for all.
Although the issue remained if he should go back to reclaim his armour and weapons? They would be invaluable to facing Olga Discordia and countering her magical supremacy.
No, he wouldn't have time.
He turned towards the walls, and with a single leap he launched himself off the pile of orc corpses and sped towards the walls. As he reached the base of the walls he leaped up and began his ascent, leaping from one jagged spike to the next. He scaled the sides and reached the top quickly, and just as he did he leaned back as a sword arced towards his head
Reaching forward he grabbed his attacker and pulled it from the ramparts, not giving it another look he pulled himself up and looked around. More defenders were present, but these were not orcs or any other demonic being he had encountered before. Garbed in dark red cloth and wielding scimitars, they looked quite dangerous when compared to the orcs. Oddly enough they all appeared female, a direct contrast to the orcs who all appear to be male.
The first came at him and he parried one of their blades, he retaliated and was surprised when it actually blocked his blow. These demons actually have some skill, for the first time in a long while he felt some excitement in the idea of actually fighting something with skill.
Reginald swung his axe to the side and lopped off the head of the female demon. With a swipe of the sword he cut open another's chest, leaving it to fall to the ground with most of its internal organs falling from the opening. He continued this dance for a few short moments until he was surrounded on all sides, this was where he wanted to be.
He needed to make sure his skills were at their best, to locate any possible weaknesses when he finally faced Olga Discordia. If he couldn't handle the best forces Olga had to offer he had no business going against someone that could destroy him at a moments notice. Without his armour and his personnel weapon he was at a disadvantage, so he would need to make sure his skills and abilities were at their best.
With a flick of his wrist he blocked a sword, then killed the attacker with his axe. Rinse and repeat, he was moving in a single direction and not allowing anything to push him back. Death Knights were unstoppable soldiers, never would they retreat from a battlefield and never surrender to an enemy. It was win or die.
Dozens had already fallen to his blade, and each kill left their own mark upon his hide, either their blood or the painless sting of the edge of their weapons. The Black Dogs were definitely in for a surprise when they were on the back foot, he could almost see their shock when they faced down this horde of seasoned warrior-beasts.
He cut and swung his way forward, clearing through the demons in his path and not caring for what gets in his way. The wounds that were received were paltry scratches, but the blood and life force he drained from these demons warrior was more than enough to heal such superficial cuts. Nothing would hold him back, he would reach Olga Discordia and drag her back to Ken.
With an echoing roar he charged back into the thick of it and swung with wild abandon, carving his way through these demons. He revelled in the bloodshed, in the chaos of battle, he was in his element and he was finally being tested.
Next time, Olga vs Reginald.
