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Hello people, sorry about the delay for this chapter, real life kept getting in the way of writing but the end is near and I will go on as fast as possible.
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Armies were drawn up. The Darkspawn horde lay in a vast mass between Denerim's walls and the slowly advancing allied army. The river Drakon provided the southern boundary of the battlefield. It's strong, swift current, strengthened by the spring thaw made it impassable; save for a single wooden bridge that was very well guarded. The battleground itself was an open plain, broken up only by several burnt out farmsteads and dead trees. The High Command had spent days planning carefully. Ostagar still haunted the memories of many, particularly amongst those who had only just escaped that grim day. But lessons had been learnt.
The combined army was divided into two main groups. The first half formed up with the river guarding their southern flank. The front ranks were amassed into a shield wall; Orzammar's warrior caste formed a solid front. The Darkspawn would crash against them like tides upon a cliff. Dwarfs with dual weapons and two handed mauls stood behind, either to attack or defend, if the cliff crumbled. Both these groups would also protect the archers and mages (escorted by Templars of course), who would do their best to thin out the hordes' numbers. Behind them were the bolt throwers, all aimed skywards. The Archdemon was on everyone's minds, and commanders had been pondering tactics for weeks. Bolt throwers had been built by the dozen to ground the tainted god; it would have to be enough. This half of the army had one basic goal, draw the Darkspawn to them. This was the reason they marched steadily forward. Odin Brosca and Loghain were also there, it had been noticed that the Darkspawn were drawn to the Wardens at Ostagar, this time it would be used properly.
The second half were predominantly human, led by their new king. Ahead of the main group moved the Dalish, there to clear the path and eliminate any small clusters quickly and from a distance. Behind this screen the Knights and soldiers of Feralden were marshalled, drawn from all corners of the nation. Backed up with archers and mages they would link the army with the city wall. With the wall to the east, the river to the south and the army to the north and west the bulk of the Darkspawn would be surrounded and their Dragon overlord grounded. It was a high risk strategy; the Darkspawn had numbers on their side. If their broke through either forces they could annihilate the entire army. The Archdemon could also cause devastation from the skies if it was not brought down quickly enough. But the Darkspawn were, for the most part, unthinking; if they saw a living creature they would charge straight for it. That instinct could yet prove their downfall.
There was some mist, mixed with smoke of smouldering ruins but the skies were clear, it would be a fine spring day, not that many cared given the battle to come. The Darkspawn certainly didn't; they milled to and fro beneath the wall, gnashing their fangs and rattling their weapons at the defenders above. Only the Ogres and the Mages could do anything to the walls but progress was slow; those fortifications were thick and well built. The Old God that led them could, of course, fly over such defences but ballistae were waiting and the creature was enjoying a morning nap. Neither the tainted God nor its' minions noticed that outlaying Darkspawn were dropping, Dalish arrows protruding from their throats.
The creatures remained unaware until an immense silhouette appeared in the fog. The Dwarves moved steadily in formation. In sharp contrast the Darkspawn charged straight for them; driven by their remorseless instinct, their speed was decided by however fast each could run. The Dwarves halted and locked shields. Their battlecry, rarely used in tunnel skirmishes, was the same one they had used in major battles for centuries; ever since their underground kingdoms had been overrun.
"OUT, OUT, OUT, OUT!"
Swords and axes were banged on shields, the roar of approval steadied nerves among raw recruits and those who had never fought before. The battle had begun.
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Anora sat upon a white charger, a small retinue guarding her. She had a good view of most of the battlefield and did her best to maintain her composure. Publically fretting about her father, her nation or, indeed, her soon to be husband would only make matters worse. Still...
"What is happening? Do you know?" she asked. Seeing was one thing, understanding was another.
"The Darkspawn are charging towards the Dwarves, as planned." Said old Ser Mycroft, who led her guard and been fighting since the days of the Orlesian Occupation.
"They look to be heavily outnumbered." The Queen noted.
The knight gave her a rather cold grin. "The Darkspawn have to get there first your Majesty."
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The Darkspawn charge certainly did look overwhelming. Thousands of the creatures; all shapes and sizes, surged towards the Shield wall. Behind that wall however the Mages, both from the Circle and Apostates granted amnesty in this hour of need, unleashed their power.
The fields between the two armies were suddenly coated in grease. There was some confusion in the ranks, weren't the mages supposed to be blasting them? But the charge came to a skidding halt as Darkspawn were wrong footed and toppled to the ground. A few of the most nimble did make it past the chaos but in ones and twos as opposed to an unstoppable tide. They were cut down effortlessly by Orzammar steel for their trouble. The rest however floundered; the first to fall made themselves obstacles for the creatures behind, heedlessly running forward and adding to the folly. A number of Darkspawn, including the powerful Alpha leading the attack were crushed underneath falling Ogres. This alone of course could not end the battle but the grease had one other very important property; it was flammable.
The mages followed the grease with fireballs in quick succession. The conflagration that followed was immediate and terrible. The Darkspawn howled and screamed as their flesh burned. And still the horde kept charging into the inferno, rear ranks pressing those in front towards the blaze.
"LOOSE!"
As one shortbows, longbows and crossbows sent a withering hail into the chaos. Many of the archers had barely received any training. Few could hit any of the archery butts they aimed for in the scant practice they had been given. But against the great mass in front of them it was almost impossible to miss.
Magic and arrows had done their work, hundreds lay dead and dying, thousands more wounded. The charge had not been stopped but it had been blunted, the great overwhelming tide that won the day at Ostagar would not be repeated here. But the Darkspawn kept coming nonetheless, and the Dwarfs were waiting. Genlocks and Hurlocks crashed against the shield wall, hacking and slashing at their opponents. But the interlocked shields deflected most of the hits while Dwarfs responded with sword, axe and hammer. Archers and Mages continued their own barrage, arrows and spells flying upwards before descending into the mob behind the melee. Now however they targeted the Ogres. Those hulking masses could well breakthrough the shields with raw strength if they got that far. But those towering monsters were easy to spot and, for all their might enough arrows and spells could still bring them crashing down.
Ogres were not the only threat to the battle line of course. A number of Darkspawn mages did try to respond to the bombardment with their own fireballs, with noticeably less care about the lives of their fellow Darkspawn caught in the middle. But the best archers had been warned to watch carefully for these Emissaries and made sure they were dropped as quickly as possible. One of the more powerful and enterprising Emissaries managed to perch himself on a toppled tree only to be hit by several Holy Smites from Templars, who were more than happy to use their talents on the savage creatures. The stunned mage was promptly turned into a pincushion by twenty well placed arrows.
With shield and sword, bow and arrow, spell and smite, the line was holding... for now.
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In the centre of the line, behind the shield wall stood a small and very unusual group. They were playing an undoubtedly important but unusually inactive role in the battle.
"I must admit this is the first time I've been bait." Announced Odin, "It's not something I want to make a habit of."
"Nor I," grumbled Loghain, "but it must be done all the same."
With the shield wall in front close combat was out of the question. As it was the entire group, apart from Morrigan and Wynne, had resorted to archery, with mixed success. Leliana was naturally the best shot, with Zevran a distant second. As for Odin, well he'd hit a few Darkspawn with his borrowed Crossbow and not shot any of his fellow Dwarfs. That was about the best he could reasonably hope for.
The Darkspawn are after our blood, thought Odin, but where is their master?
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Some distance away the Archdemon had indeed been roused from its' slumber. From the perch it had chosen the battlefield was in clear view, and the Archdemon did not like what it was seeing. The glorious horde that had swept all before them had been stopped by some insolent dwarfs! The Archdemon let out a scream, summoning those Darkspawn to the south of the river. Once they crossed they could attack from behind; smashing the wretched bolt throwers and slaughtering those soft mages with impunity.
As for the fallen dragon, it rose into sky sensing those tainted ones who dared to challenge the inevitable triumph of the horde, and headed straight for them.
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The Darkspawn on the southern banks, around a thousand or so, answered their god's call with speed and barely contained bloodlust. They may not be able to ford the river but the bridge was in an ideal location to cause horrendous damage if they got across.
Of course the bridge itself was not undefended. There had been considerable debate among the army leadership on how best to stop any attack. But in the end and in the face of considerable opposition Odin's suggestion, heartily supported by King Alistair, had been agreed to, on the condition that a mage and a contingent of Avaar mercenaries would also be there in support.
As the vanguard of this horde reached the bridge they caught sight of their opposition. The lead Alpha creature let out a cackle. Such weak prey!
The man sitting on the bridge stood up and stretched a little, his back ache was acting up again, bloody typical really. Still, that was no reason to be rude.
"Hello boysh. Wondered when you'd shhow up."
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