In My Time of Troubles

by Crossposted

Crossposting of the TheIrishDreamer’s FanFiction on SpaceBattles all credit goes to the original author.

4. Entry 4

When: Spring 1352DR; or the season when the Fingercutters attack.

Where: Overlooking Valley here in Sparta

Fingercutters continued their migration into the eastern part of the valley. It's less an orderly column from the scouts reports than a number of spread out clumps that are coming through willy-nilly. Thunderblades slowed them down evidently (at least they claim they did) by hitting one or two of the groups that strayed too far forward. Makes sense really as the Fingercutters likely dispersed to caves and sheltered areas during the blizzards and it takes a good bit of effort to form any immediate cohesion when it cleared. Good for us as more time to prepare I suppose, though if we'd known about them in advance, and moved quickly, our little alliance could have don't alot of damage. Well no use crying over missed opportunities I suppose.

Which is why I'm sitting on the outcropping here with Missy, Mara and Zah's half-elven slave Lanistra or Lassie (of all things) as Zah calls her, who can actually draw with some degree of skill and are now our map-makers for the moment. The half-elf girl in particular seems to quite happy at the chance to be something other than bed-slave, well and the offer of some better food and some 'free time' as a reward. Though it could just be out of the stronghold in the sunshine (that awful annoying sunshine) and let talk to Missy and Mara; turns out my orcish brethren have few prospective Picassos amongst them unfortunately. And been honest maps make planning out defences and kill-zones so much easier for me at least short of standing out in these spots all the damn time – really should have done it earlier if I've honest. An oversight on my part I'm afraid.

Anyway so clear crispy skies at the moment and the view, as ever, is magnificent as ever. So much so you even make out the tiny clumps moving like ants across the vista in the far distance. That nature has been one of reasons I love this place; you can see enemies unless they put in alot of effort to try and stick to tree cover during the daytime when our vision is weakest. So at least we can get warning for a large-scale attack coming against us. *Note to self – try establish a group maybe of half-orcs or trustworthy enough slaves to be better daytime watchers. Also telescopes, need to create them now!

So we're trying to decide on where to confront our enemy. Ideally we'd fight them at river, hell in a perfect world before they'd taken the Thunderblades side of the river, but that's not going to happen in the time we've got. It'll take too long for us to assemble our full strength with vassals included, and the truth is we need said allies to bring up our numbers before risk facing the Fingercutters. From what we're being told I'd suspect they've other clans or groups mixed in with them as they're quite numerous, more-so than either my own clan, or our allies, had understood. Especially since they obviously lost the battle to hold their previous territory as best we can tell, so why would they somehow be stronger after?

For ourselves we can raise about a hundred and ten, twenty at a push, warriors but in reality only about eighty are properly of age and trained with the rest are just of age teenagers and not exactly bloodied warriors. I'm not sure yet of the Thunderblades, Breyza says over a hundred but only a like twenty or so have arrived so far and those like our 'warriors' from among the eldest children. So yeah in theory over two hundred warriors for any battle; though I bolster that by staying close to Sparta with our auxiliary archers – at least fifty to eighty from amongst the females.

As to our 'allied' kobolds and goblins; we've about hundred or so odd here already, mostly kobolds, and I'm hoping for at least double that number. But they're going to be support or ranged as they're not really a match for an orcish force in pitched battle been entirely honest. For the moment I've put them to work establishing trap-zones to try and narrow prospective battlefields frontage down – the Fingercutters may have more orcs (and armed goblinoid slaves evidently) but I'm pretty confident that our Stormfang are better armoured.

The weakspot that concerns me is the Thunderblades; they seem to have copied some of our methods (thieving fuckers) with larger shields and some attempt at fighting formations but they're nowhere near the teamwork to make it work. And that was the hard part – teamwork and iron discipline. Imitation may be the highest form of flattery but I'm not exactly happy at the thought of them at the flank of our formation or as half or strength. We won the last battle through better cohesion and organisation and now we're looking at a split command structure which is historically problematic I've found. Something to plan around, another task for the list.

--

When: The day the Thunderblades arrived

Where: Sparta

Our allies arrived today, which is both encouraging and concerning. Encouraging because Breyza's father is an old raid and battle hardened war-chief and their core of warriors seem to be good fighters and raiders in good armour. They also brought most of their supplies with them, and the presence of their females and children has alleviated my fears of betrayal; also they have a small cattle herd! Which is great as they can provide milk and meat if our foraging fails to turn up as much we'd like in the coming days. Invasions tend to disrupt those things unfortunately.

Concerning because theirs alot less of them than I'd like, less than a hundred as I thought, and several are injured having clashed with the Fingercutters since they appeared in the valley. They've also brought in less of their 'vassals' than expect, in fact it's worse – several actually defected over to the Fingercutters after freeing some of their enslaved brethren.

Which is just bloody fantastic to hear let me tell you. Not. Especially with the most annoying part – dealing with our clerical opposites, a thick ass Priest of Gruumsh by the Gurnak, his nephew a follower of Baghtu and Oggy's opposite who has no bloody backbone and does what the other two tell her while trying to lord it over Oggy.

We didn't get ten minutes in the same room without me wanting to punch both of the fucking morons for whining about our auxiliary archers being unorcish, my use of magic being heretical and a host of other shit that nearly led to bloodshed. Oh and insulting Ghorza and by extension Ilneval when in MY Tower. So they've been chucked off to camping SOMEWHERE NOT HERE. And evidently not in the Keep either as there's tension between the Thunderblades Chief and his clerics. Oh we're all one big united alliance!

Okay off to bang my head off the wall for a little while!

--

When: Day 3 of Resisting the urge to kill Gurnak

Where: Sparta

We've an attack on the way and brutally killing that one-eyed fucker would be bad for morale and any alliance between our clans. I figure if I keep reminding myself of that I'll continue to resist the urge to brutally kill that stupid one-eyed fucker in an imaginative and creative manner. I've already thought up several with Oggy's and Zah's input. I personally like the one with the where we can pretend a dragon did it. Arrogant, stuck up old jackass needs a fire bath get rid of the smell that clings to him anyway.

Okay sorry but the depths of my annoyance with my clerical guests cannot be understated, and at least they've learned not to enter my tower without permission. Moron (I don't care what his damn name is) the Baghtu worshiping cretin came into the tower last night demanding ingredients. Demanding would you believe!

Insulting Ghorza then putting hands on Mara violently. She's fine, even if initially terrified, though inclined to hover nearby me in the tower all day since. But that was the final straw. Nobody touches or harms me or mine; we didn't kill him I'll say that. But we beat the stupid fuck black and blue and sent him off naked as the day he was born with Ghorza threatening him. That got a great laugh from the warriors but I'm pretty sure it's set the dividing line between our two groups on course towards a bad ending. But killing them now would be bad remember that Karguk. Must not kill them yet, that would be bad. Fingercutters first, idiots afterwards.

Speaking of Fingercutters; we've at least agreed on place to face them just to the flank of the castle. The Thunderblades shamans are complete pricks but their aged chief is a smart badass and can keep his clan in line for the battle planning. Assuming he can do the same in battle we're going to fight a defensive battle roughly a mile or so from Sparta – though essentially it's are the just above the foot of the hill the stronghold's on.

We can use the cliff face (well rocks and hilly ground) on one side to anchor the formation on their and then the ground slopes downward again after a flat piece. That 'plan' so far is to set traps in a series of concentric semi-circles before the ground and situate all our archers behind our warriors on the higher ground. Some wooden palisades and spike walls might even be doable with some effort; I've I'm lucky the Hwaha will be working by the time they arrive.

--

[Zahgorim 03]

Valley of Sparta

"It wasn't that bloody impressive Zah" greeted Zahgorim as he finished his roar of triumph at their defeat of the forward deployed group of Fingercutters. The young Chief of the Stormfang merely smirked as he swung his super-awesome-magic axe to clear off the blood on it from the spectacular beheading of the enemy group leader as Karguk just shook his head in seeming annoyance. Chief Zahgorim continued to smirk as he wiped off the remain blood on the cleaner part of his dead foes corpse before slinging in over his shoulder and turning back to his old friend and the clans shaman.

"Sure it was! Did you see how far his head flew? Didn't it clan-orcs?" he asked loudly and earning a roar of approval from the two squads of Stormfang warriors and dozen or so Thunderblades with them. Karguk merely sighed as he sheathed his own magic sword (that Zahgorim would not admit he found the blade super-awesome but also very creepy to look at) and through up his hands in the air in acceptance of such a feat.

"Fine, great, it was the most awesome beheading I've ever seen in my life. Now we REALLY need to loot this lot quickly and move Zah"

Zahgorim nodded in acceptance, Karguk was always thinking on the next thing even when they had easy wins like now "Yeah I know..." then raised his voice "...RIGHT YOU LOT, YA HEARD KARG NOT GRAB WHAT YA CAN! LET'S GET OUTTA THIS DAMNABLE SUN!" he looked back at his friend who nodded in the direction of the heights just behind them.

"I've Missy up there with Hebil and Jazqan on lookout for now, but ten minutes then we're back up the slopes. This little battle went really well but Yezguk is badly injured, I've healed him up as best I can but he'll slow us down on the way back. And we've a few minor injuries I'll let Oggy heal up..." his shaman glanced over at the other tribe's junior shaman busily stripping an enemy corpse and continued in a low tone to ensure only the two of them heard it "...and Moron there is worse than fucking useless. Let nature take its course with battle casualties. Fucking idiot, like we have a bottomless pit of warriors"

Zahgorim nodded thinking the same as Karguk. Indeed both of them had sort of hoped the Baghtu worshiping cleric would bite take a fatal wound during this sortie (as Karguk called them) but the joys of success meant nobody had died, even the aforementioned moron. Rather than being a united clan as allies the Thunderblades were badly split between an old warchief and an ambitious but old fashioned shaman. A clash that had grown to include Karguk and himself as the older cleric of the One-Eye clearly saw himself as senior of the clerics and since arriving had seen nothing but his clashes between him and Karguk.

Unfortunately the Thunderblades seemed split to an unknown degree between chief and shaman and they couldn't afford to explode the whole mess till they'd faced down the oncoming Fingercutter horde. Breyza had warned him but he'd assumed she was just been a silly headed worrying female; really it had been a shock to find out a mate was for more than just a good tumble on the furs!

Still this small daylight attack had worked and the Thunderblades and his own Stormfang had fought well together and slaughtered this group of maybe twenty Fingercutters who'd come too far forward. It seemed Karguk's constant forcing them to train to be able to fight well during the horrible daylight hours as they'd caught this lot in the middle of resting under the shade of the hill and these trees. Caught by surprise and dazzled by the foul light of the sun they'd been torn apart by Zahgorim's raiding party. That and they were a scrawny lot he noted as he gave the headless corpse a nudge with his boot, they had decent enough armour and weapons but looked like they hadn't eaten proper in a season or two.

'Makes you glad of Kargs worryin' he noted glancing back up at his friend "Yeah what can do, but we won and I...sorry we were awesome so what..." a female whiny shout from just above them and both he and Karguk glanced up and saw the female human slave-wizard was saying something and motioning with the young Jazqun off into the distance. Karguk replied "Far?" earning a reply of "A distance"

"RIGHT YOU LOT, QUICK NOW WE HAVE TO GO IN A BIT!" Zahgorim roared as he and Karguk scrambled up the slope to join the human slave that was dressed like the two younger clan-orcs guarding her. The slave's magics had been useful and Zahgorim was glad Karguk used her for more than just a bed-slave and didn't have the creature look like elf or human wizard. Everyone aimed for the squishy wizard first after all. Karguk was odd but really useful like that for as long as Zahgorim had known him, even if he was crazy enough to take Ogrash as his first wife. Well it was useful in a way he supposed; it kept Oggy and her scariness out of his own bed at the least!

"So there they are, bit further off than I thought still" Karg grumbled as they got in beside his slave and using his hands shielded his eyes looking in the direction the kneeling slave pointed at. Zahgorim did likewise, wincing just like Karguk, and saw the faint outline of a several camps close together off in the distance, though they were hard to make out.

"Two days, three maybe?" he asked Karguk looking back down, then rubbing and blinking his eyes after the discomfort gazing out like that in the midday sun. Karguk nodded "Yeah, three probably I'd guess, maybe a bit slower as they are more heavily laden than any hunting party or even us now. There a bit spread out. I'm seeing that right Missy, lotta small camps and not one big one? Your eyes are better at this range and time of day"

"Yes Master Sir, Lord Chief, they're spread-out like a snake up against the hilly ground and tree-line, but there are a few camps I think, at least that look like camps, that are closer" she replied immediately and in a properly submissive voice. Zahgorim found Karguk's ideas for treating slaves a bit odd at times but they seemed to work as long as you kept a firm hand on them as well, still keeping his own two wedding-gift slaves well fed made them better lookers at the least.

"Hmmm...moving bit slower than we thought it seems...damn, we shoulda tried taking one of that lot prisoner and question him..." Karguk stated frowning "...hmmmm...we still head back, we're two days away from home and we've done what we wanted for little losses so far. So let's just leave our 'welcoming message' with their warriors corpses and get on the move home Zah, well have a quick rest where we were last night and keep going?"

"Ummm...yeah fair enough. Think they'll have everything ready when we get back?"

Karguk groaned "Maybe, hopefully, fuck, we'll see when we get back. Covering all the approaches is taking more time than I'd thought and less be honest the Thundeblades are more a nuisance rather than a help. That and this lot are coming up the opposite approach than we planned looks like, and trying to scout us..."

"This lot won't be telling them anything to anyone" Zahgorim replied nodding to the scene below them where half the warriors were stripping the bodies while the rest stayed on guard. Mostly anyway. Once that was finished they'd line up the bodies and leave their mocking words and let their enemy find their scouts in a short while, soon if there were other scouting parties around or in a few days when the main column arrived.

"Yeah true, but there's probably others. We can't assume our enemy are all idiots"

Zahgorim blinked "We can't?"

Karguk gave him one of 'those' looks like he did when Zahgorim said something he thought was stupid "No Zah we can't. And even if they are idiots, there's alot of the idiots so they can afford to be idiots somewhat more than we can..." then sighed "...no lets get back down there and get this adventure back on track"

--

[Karguk 06]

Lower Slopes of Sparta

Stacking advantage on advantage was really my, well our, only option for engaging the Fingercutters and aiming to come out on top. Well that and it was primary teaching of Ilneval so one could say it was a positively religious obligation. One I was really glad off right now as I looked down at the oncoming fighting orcs of the enemy tribe and their battle thralls leading before them. Honestly our two armies were in strict terms pretty close in numbers I estimated, probably between six hundred on ours and eight on theirs. But that hid the fact theirs was majority orc warriors with maybe two hundred goblins or other slaves while ours massed maybe two hundred and a bit true orc warriors. With maybe another hundred auxiliary female archers who'd be limited value in close quarters, with the other half being our 'allied' tribes of kobolds and goblins whose morale would be flaky at best and chances versus orcs in close quarters...poor...to say the least.

"One way to clear traps I suppose" I grumbled to no one in particular as I watched in the gloom as a distant group of goblins fell screaming in a pit trap of some sort. Probably a poisoned one I guessed, mostly from having seen the kobolds works in the past few weeks. Though I'd made a mistake deploying traps in front of the enemy advance while hitting with raids – yes it had hurt the Fingercutters but right now it had made them cautious in their attack. So far it had only been a sluggish advance from their loose (at best) formation as their goblin skirmishers traded arrow fire with our forward deployed kobold archers, or seeking out the various traps we'd laid.

"Better a gobbie than an orc dar' thinkin' with it..." the aged but still powerful chieftain of the Thunderblades, Breyjuk Helmbreaker, replied seemingly having overhead "...which ain't ta bad trade fer'em. Why ye not usin' all yer archers yet me boyo?"

I shrugged, at least his tone was curious rather than combative or condescending "Mainly cuz they couldn't hit sweet fuck all at this range unfortunately is one. The other is don't want that lot knowing about them till we start shooting fire-arrows when they hit those parts we've covered with pitch. This will be when Fingercutters themselves get near it in my mind"

Both he and Zah nodded at the thought and we watched as our forced waited in a rough half semi-circle on the rough terrain beneath Sparta hill (well near mountain) with a series of tap kill-zone. We'd deployed them between us and the Fingercutters and our various missile forces behind the infantry in various clusters, Ogrash's auxiliary archers and the majority of our goblin ones hopefully hidden from sight of our foes behind the ridge-line.

So far we'd been here a few hours as the day ended and night began as our enemy, very slowly, assembled themselves in a broad line and appeared to readying for a charge. Which seemed to be coming after they were sure they'd cleared something a path through 'King' Tucker's and his scaly little helpers 'additions' to the landscape. Still at least they were burning through armed slaves and younger warriors, that or through their clerics and shamans spells apparently judging by the spurts of power I could see and feel even here.

"Eyup, hopefully little gobbie fucks don't sniff it out first. When you deploying yer magics shaman, my own...loyal...friend Gurnak seems to be making quite the display" the old scarred orc stated nodding to where the one eyed shaman of Gruumsh was.

"Shouldn't matter with that pitch, it's in patches some somebody has to go through it to get to us..." I replied honestly glancing at my older Thunderblades opposite amongst those of his tribe most loyal to him and chanting while waving around his spear "...as to your tribes shaman...frankly he's wasting spells this early in trying to show off his strength. Still between him, his nephew and Ghorza we could strike it lucky as the enemy are trading spells with them from what I see. I don't intend to start throwing my magic till their committed and it'll make a difference" I finished with a nod back to nearby where Missy waited head bowed along with a dozen of the old enough younger orcs who had grasped their spellwork enough to use Missy's years worth of prepared scrolls. Sparta's future cleric War-swords of Ilneval and those with the arcane as Battle-staves; orcs but put battle or war in front of stuff and suddenly even magic seems fine.

Chief Breyjuk grunted in seeming agreement even if he seemed less than confident in magic and things like my 'innovations' than our clan-orcs were. Still he respected it enough to think it worked somewhat due to our successes last year in battle. Orcs; Might makes Right and Success equals Respect, so yay to that small mercy I suppose. As we discussed though the Fingcutters warriors had started banging weapons off shields or other weapons while shrieking and screaming war cries to the One-Eye or Ilneval or Baghtu for victory; the sun had set and now the time had come to attack it seemed. I looked to Zah and Breyjuk the official joint command.

"Time for the reserve archers I think?"

Both acknowledged that and grabbing one of flags at my feet I signalled to where the female archers crouched above us and a minute or so later they emerged and began setting up behind the some rough palisade shelter. Across the field having not noticed as yet the enemy began to rumble forward, though not as any solid line like my Stormfang brothers but in clumps of probable friends or under a stronger orc or half-orc. The goblin thralls in front of them began panicking and tried to flow to the sides of where the charge was going to come through; which at least stopped their counter fire for the moment.

"Aright...let's get ta our warriors then young'uns and getta slaughterin' some Fingercutters" the older orc stated and I nodded as he and Zah strode forward to join their respective clan formations; my own Stormfang on my right and Thunderblades on their flank to the left.

I of course motioned to Missy and the young acolytes, and more importantly my reserve squads of warriors, to form up around me for my own part of the battle. I'm suddenly a big believer in combined arms right now; disrupting this charge was vital considering we were outnumbered like three to one in terms of proper fighters. One last wave of the flag and I was pleased to note that the archers were starting to light their arrow tips in the growing darkness in preparation for a volley. Across the field and from a short distance before me the chanting of warriors grew louder as the terrifying yet somehow exhilarating life and death game began again. As usual I tried focusing on doing things rather than the urge to run screaming in the opposite direction.

"Wait here a minute..." I ordered after a hundred metres and after picking up a ready flaming torch from the ground. The Hwacha waited uncaringly before me as I approached and gingerly held out the flame to the 'Master Fuse' and watched it catch the flame muttering quietly "...and heres goes nothin'...oh fuck move..." before striding away as the flame started to spread, trying to not look concerned at all. It had worked in tests but this was the first with the hundred to two hundred arrow-rockets readied. I raised my voice "Right Missy use that Fireball scroll on them, I'll use the Lighting Bolt, Warswords use your spells like we spoke on earlier and Battlestaves use the scrolls I've supplied. Keep casting till I say otherw..."

SCREEEEEEEEEE SCREEEEEEEE SCREEEEEEEEEE SCREEEEEEEE SCREEEEEEEEEE SCREEEEEEEE SCREEEEEEEEEE SCREEEEEEEE

I raised my voice as the various arrows began to ignite and sail through the air in a loud pyrotechnic display that surprised even me "TILL SAY OTHERWISE! CAST AND KNOCK THOSE BASTARDS DOWN SO WE CAN KILL'EM QUICKER!"

SCREEEEEEEEEE SCREEEEEEEE SCREEEEEEEEEE SCREEEEEEEE SCREEEEEEEEEE SCREEEEEEEE SCREEEEEEEEEE SCREEEEEEEE

Continued for a few more seconds sailing through the air and my eyes tracked them as we moved forward to some crude earth works on the slight hill overlooking the charge and our own warriors by about head height. I almost swore out loud as the arrow-rockets flew OVER the heads of the now charging enemy warriors (well some actually stopped confused mid charge or slowed at the sight) completely and into the smaller more spread out group behind them.

I'd hoped that the damn thing would take out a few dozen of the bastards but at best I'd take a dozen and a half largely unarmored or lightly armored fools rather than what I'd wanted. And rather than breaking the charge it merely stalled a second before returning to its shrieking charge at a faster more chaotic pace. At least the fire arrows started to fall on them as I reminded myself to start casting after spreading out my 'magical support' group. Though it was weird why the enemy's clerics seemed to go suddenly quiet...

'Focus you idiot' I told myself harshly as I opened the scroll in a swift gesture and started to rapid chant like the other voices around me did, my hand striking out in the proper gesture as I could feel the energy build up inside me and start to move...light erupted from my hand, and from the hands of those around me as fire, lightning and illusions took flight towards our foe and the battle began...

--

Notes

Hwacha in action Mythbusters

[Zahgorim 04]

Lower Slopes of Sparta

"Haah...haah...haah" Chief Zahgorim of the Stormfang gasp for breath sitting back on the rock in the 'rear area' that Karguk had setup. When one of Oggy's females came along with water he greedily gulped it down greedily before it went along to the next warrior in his squad. It felt strange getting to rest in the middle of a battle like Karg wanted, but damned if he didn't need it after the brutal and exhausting fighting in the shield wall. Just a quick rest and then he'd return back to the line to kill more Fingercutters.

"Do you need damned healing Zah?" Oggy demanded as she strode over to him Kargs human slave in tow, and his friends chainmail like his own was covered in blood splatters. Probably from the group of enemy warriors that had tried to claim the slope to get over the defences where the archers were it; it hadn't ended well for the handful that made up and over the stake wall. Oggy as usual being the antithesis of femininity but right now he was glad of that oddness from her and her circle of females. He sucked in a breath and shook his head in the negative.

"Nah, just...haah...winded is all, fuckin brutal there for a few minutes" he grunted out in reply, loosely holding his shield at his at his leg. It was now covered in slash marks from his stint at the very front of the shield-wall, but the thick would braced with metal was still solid; it was certainly feeling heavy enough so it had better be in his mind.

Whatever you could say about the Fingercutters, one thing they were was proper brave orcs; they'd charged up at them through a hellish ground of still burning flames. Hell after getting hit by the all the flashy magics, arrows, Kargs banshee thing, and then everything seeming to been on fire it had surprised Zahgorim the crazy bastards had managed to charge up to the shield. Sure they'd broken and run after only few minutes on that first charge...but seven hells they'd charge back up into it again not too long after thanks to their loudly roaring chief. If he were them he'd have turned around and gone elsewhere, especially since it looked like Karg or his pet-wizard, or Oggy's archers, had killed the Fingercutters trained shamans.

Now though the moon was full and high in the sky as he heard the chanting from down below, though like that of his own clan-orcs it was almost mute from that of a few hours earlier. Everyone was tiring it seemed and he was sure the fighting had to come to an end soon enough. At least he hoped it did as pretty soon he wouldn't have the strength left to swing his magic axe, or stab with his spear. And he was sure his warriors were as badly off as they were getting sloppy and the number of wounded and dead was starting to grow even though they'd seemed untouchable at the start of the fighting. The mound of corpses that had built up in front of their line (and forced them back as the Fingercutters used it as wall of sorts) was proof of that.

Ogrash looked at him, or more so glared at him before her hand slammed unto his armoured chest snapping out "Yeah can't have Chief barely able hold his damn shield Zah. So let me fix that, I just about outta spells anyway" before beginning to chant calling upon the Cave Mother for divine aid of some sort.

And come that aid did as he grunted at felt like a temporarily painful pressure in his chest as Oggy's hand glowed faintly, then suddenly felt it change to like a feeling of having warm water, or water that wasn't water perhaps, seem to flow out through from the glow through his muscles. After a few seconds the glow began to fade but he suddenly felt fresh and ready to fight once again; the ache in his arms and back were gone, as was the hazy feeling that was slowing his thoughts. He stood up and stretched as Oggy stepped back from him and he grinned at his friend.

"Damned' great Oggy, never thought you'd be a shaman but I feel fuckin awesome right now!"

"Good for you, your goin fuckin' need it. Breyjuk's down..." she started and Zahgorim started to interject what state their allied Chief was in as she just raised her voiced and spoke over him "...badly wounded but should recover, but he'll be no damn use the rest of the battle. The Thunderblades shaman is dead, or on his way there from looks of it, sword to the gut can do that, and their whole fuckin' lines a mess. Karg and his squad are gone down there to get'em formed up together, but there's alot of them dead or injured"

"Fuck, fraid sumthin like that would happen, but fuck" he replied looking back down the slope to various parts of the line. Karg's neatly planned battlelines had spread out between the various charges and the fighting. When coming back even this short distance it had been obvious from the wounded around them that the Thunderblades had been coming off the worse in the fighting than his own Stormfang.

Understandable since not everyone could be the well trained and super-awesome warriors like them but if their Chief and Shaman were down the whole thing had been harder on them than he'd figured. The shield-wall and fighting had made the world boil down to a small space around him, and to the brothers in arms behind and either side of him. In the Karguk and Ogrash were better at the 'bigger picture' than him and inspiring his warriors from the front as Chief was something he himself was bloody good at anyway.

"Yeah Karg needs ya back there now. Looks like there another charge coming, he's pulling back up the slope again and wants us now before they do"

"Fuck, yeah, lets go" he replied then raised his voice as he banged his spear off his shield "UP YOU LAZY FUCKERS! TIME TO KILL SOME MORE DEMON DAMNED FINGERCUTTER WEAKLINGS! UP THE STORMFANG!"

They were slower than before to stand back up, and sluggish as he strode away beside Oggy towards the lines, but there was no grumbling just weary resignation as their intended rest ended before it had even begun. And before him the night was awash with angry patches of flame on the landscape, and embers floated on the cold night wind as he watched the mass of orcs coming towards them. Karguk's voice, and that of that ungrateful glaring bitch Ghorza filled the air as they were trying to reform a wall just before the open slope they'd come back over. Damned if they hadn't nearly the whole way back to what Karguk had called the 'Fall-back position' before the battle. And speak of the orc, his shaman friend came into view that creepy sword of his seeming to burn with an eerie flame on it as he saw his Chief and changed direction.

"Zah, good Oggy got you, was afraid you were down injured"

"Heh those pussies? No fuckin' way Karg!" he replied back with a grin as he felt the energy fill him and coming fight began to get the fire inside him stoked up again. Karguk just nodded glancing back over his shoulder down the slope at the slowly moving enemy then back again.

"Thank the Gods for that. But that lot are coming up again but their pretty slow about it, their exhausted I'd guess"

"So are we Karg. Zah's only full of energy thanks to the Cave Mother" Oggy answered as the human slave waited at her shoulder while looking at her master for orders seemingly. Karguk nodded tiredly as he adjusted his shield while carefully holding his creepy magic sword.

"I know, I know. We can't keep this up. Thunderblades have taken a blood battering and don't think they'll take another charge, not used to fightin on defence and with their Chief down their already grumbling"

"So what're we doin then?" Zahgorim asked watching as the block of warriors before them began to form up into the familiar formation of shields and swords to the front and long spears and bill-hooks just behind them. Karguk had to have a plan if he was after pulling back from the area they'd been defending so stubbornly so far and his friend nodded his helmeted head absently.

"We'll counter-charge them when they get near to us. Nice few hundred metres of open ground between us and where we've been fighting till now and momentum will keep our allies moving forward...I hope anyway. Our enemy can't keep this up, they've lost hundreds already and that lot are struggling get up the hill even with so little missile fire from us now. We're tired their tired, but I trust in our boys discipline, that and we're healthy and well fed...and that lot ain't so they shouldn't have the stamina. So we charge"

Zahgorim grinned "Awesome plan I like it!"

Kaguk nodded again "Good then lets get'em going...Oggy your in charge of the reserve..." he motioned at the twenty to thirty tired and injured looking orcs standing off to the side "...send them in if we're pressed. Missy you are to use your last spells if anyone breaks through or flanks us..." his friend looked at his Chief "...Zah, you and me will handle the charge"

Nods of acceptance was all that was needed as Zahgorim and Karguk strode off to the centre of the block of warriors and saw the enemy line slowly creeping up towards them, climbing over the now broken traps, stake lines and bodies of their comrades as they went. Soon the chant began amidst the Stormfang and Thunderblades warriors as they prepared to deliver the hopefully killing blow on their increasingly desperate foe...

--

[Missasri 05]

Sparta

Each step she took up the slope was a struggle as her boots suddenly felt is they'd been covered to stone. It was cold and it was still dark, and the past few hours had been the most chaotically terrifying and exhausting that she'd experienced in her life, beyond perhaps the nightmare of her first few days enslavement. And there'd been so much blood behind them on the battlefield amidst all the flames and the screams of the wounded. Though not that had lasted long for the enemy orcs as Master Karguk's tribe ruthlessly killed any of these while treating their own as they returned up the hill, the worst injured lying on small carts.

Karguk and Mistress Ogrash struggled along beside her as the towers of her current home came nearer with each step, both were alive and well to her relief. The thought of being handed over to another orcish owner was quite terrifying as the fighting dragged on with enemy attacks and the possibility of death or injury grew.

After all the Orc Chief Zahgorim had his arm in a sling a few metres away, and it seemed a large number of the 'allied' orc clan were dead or badly injured including the awful looking shaman of theirs who'd nearly assaulted Mara. And by the time of that last charge her own magic had been completely exhausted, in truth all she could do was sit and watch the charge beneath the full moon of her Orc masters clan into the final enemy assault.

'Strange how life is' she mused tiredly as she trudged on one step after another 'a year ago all I felt was fear and horror at them...and now here I am praying that they are victorious so I'll stay alive'

When the Stormfang and allied charge down the hill had suddenly caused the enemy orcs to at first stagger to a halt, and then edge backwards, she felt a mixture of elation that victory was at hand. And relief, tinged with disgust at her own compliance with her captors, that they and she would get to live another day with her own position within that society still secure.

'Even more perhaps' she though trying to keep her mind off the urge to just fall down and let blissful sleep take her. She thanked Mystra master Karguk had allowed her a staff as she leaned on it yet again as she dragged herself forward struggling for breath. But at least the Stormfang no longer looked upon her like they wanted to harm her, evidently she'd proven that she was 'of use' to the clan from this battle and the last few one. Though that could just be her tired mind reading into nothing, or they were just too tired to care she was a 'filthy' human slave. Especially from the younger ones who'd she been stuck training with through the winter months; they treated her somewhat like one of their own most junior females as best she could tell.

It was easier to think on that than the carnage she witnessed by the light of the flickering flames and the moonlight as her sides orcs drove back the enemy mercilessly. One thing that surprised her was the fact the numbers of enemy deaths seemed to grow when they tried to run away rather than when they had been attacking. Orcs had a strong constitution and were surprisingly durable even with all the powers brought to bear upon their first few attacks (oh what were we thinking attacking an orc clan! She cursed at her past self) and many had survived till being finished off hours later.

A few more steps and she staggered, nearly losing her breath as she pushed herself back up with the quarterstaff. To her side she heard her Master and Mistress grumbling something to each other, but the words were like the static from when she'd seen other mages summon lighting. In fact the whole world seemed to be blurry in the moonlit landscape, and she shook her head trying to clear it as she sucked in another breath barely noticing all the people around her. Indeed when Ogrash grabbed her and slung her over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes she merely groaned at the roughness not noticing the orc woman handing over the staff to her grumbling husband...

...it was sooooo comfortable and warm she found lying in her bed and having a pleasant doze. Oh it was great to be home to Neverwinter she wondered idly as yawn softly starting to shift on her bed. Perhaps later in the day, after her nap of course, she could persuade Daddy to buy her some travelling mage robes for her coming great adventure.

Her nose could smell the faint scent of cooking, Mother likely having one of the servants preparing breakfast for the family and Missasri for a moment wondered what it would be as she was positively famished for some reason. Using so much magic in a battle after all was prone to causing exhaustion when you pushed to your limits, and that was likely behind her rumbling stomach her mind explained it the blissful darkness...as...as...as...

'I...I...huh...why was I in a battle...oh...' entered her mildly confused mind as wakefulness began to take hold and she started to blink awake a uneasing feeling rising then falling away into weary resignation as her mind came alive at last and the sight of orcs greeted her just beside her '...oh yeah...so that wasn't a dream...oh...oh right...okay then back to this then'

"Don't wake Oggy making noise. You need to rest, then rest. We're all wrecked. Whisper if you want talk" came from a low sounding but still gruff orc voice as she started to stretch to get up before a large hand reached out the distance and touched her shoulder.

Across from her Master Karguk was lying on his back while beyond on the other side Mistress Ogrash snored away splayed out taking up most of the massive 'bed' uncaring of having kicked the furs away and exposing herself as usual. With a quick glance Missasri could see that Mara was over by the fireplace cooking with Kethri evidently helping as she guessed it was late afternoon, or maybe evening, as she allowed herself to roll unto her shoulder.

"So...so...sorry Sir for collapsing" she replied keeping her voice low and edging a little closer so as to be heard and holding back her confusion and nervousness.

"It fine, use much magic, tired, yeah I get it. Oggy carried you back and chucked you in bed beside her while I organised watch duties"

"Umm...Master didn't we win? Um...why did we return here?" she asked as Master seemed like he wanted to talk and the mage part of her mind was curious in a ways why they didn't pursue the beaten enemy orcs. They'd done such whispered question and answer talks when outside Sparta last year even if this one was a little more uncomfortable despite the warm bed.

The orc snorted softly eyes closing with a sigh "Eh...yeah, a great victory with a horrible slaughter after. I could say I was sick of it but doubt you'd believe me. That and our boys are exhausted and many wounded. Chasing would have cost us wounded becoming dead, and more becoming wounded. Coming back lets us recover quickly; tomorrow we'll chase them down. They, unlike us, don't have luxury of a R spot and Zah left a few hunting parties to track and annoy them"

Missy frowned in thought "Is it because of our magic?"

"Aye, you were spent as was all out spare scrolls. That and me and Oggy were spent, and Gurnak, praise The Boss, got ganked after using his spells so not worth the risk I figured to chase any more. Fingercutters too big to killed off by us in one battle anyway...oh and anyway you did good Missy..." he told her softly patting her head a moment "...keep it up and we'll see what we can do in ways of a reward"

--

When: We'll call it Foundation Day 1 for the moment. 1352DR

Where: Sparta home of the Spartans (well Orc Spartans)

If you're a future historian and are asking 'Well why the hell didn't those gosh-danged Spartans chase down the Fingercutters instead of heading home?' and think it was a dumb idea then let me answer this for you. And honestly hope it wasn't a terrible idea made for the best of intentions. I think it's the best idea right now and there a whole lot of reasons for our somewhat, odd, I suppose, follow up that make sense in contexts other than purely military ones.

Yes we won. Crushingly even I'll admit, even more-so than I'd realised or understood till the day after the battle and we'd moved to return to base. Though even if I had known I wouldn't have changed my vote on the matter regardless- in my view the same reasons apply number of dead enemy orcs in the body pile regardless. Though there is a military sense to it as well, Stormfang took, quite frankly, a ridiculously low number of our warriors in the melee. Wonders of discipline, tactics, combined arms and decent armour basically; but what we did take was alot of injuries that would have become deaths without treatment. (Also magical healing dramatically shifts military logistics! Note to self; remember to have more healers on future campaigns.)

So we have our stronghold like RIGHT THERE BESIDE THE BATTLEFIELD -we'll a short walk anyway- and I made use of the facilities to bounce back our forces to full strength pretty much immediately. At least melee wise anyway. It's worth nothing for any future armchair generals that our allies the Thunderblades DID take heavy losses relatively, way less than the Fingercutters but also way more than us. Including –silver lining on a dark cloud- that One Eye bastard of a Thunderblade shaman. Yes, yes, we lost a skilled and useful cleric. Blah, blah, blah I say as at least now I, and the Thunderblades injured old chief, don't have to worry about knife to the back from the fecker. Praise Ilneval!

It ALSO allowed us, meaning me, Zah and the Old Thunderblades Geezer to make something of a power-play, or permanent cementing of our alliance, depending on your opinion on the matter. Thankfully most of those with a dissenting opinion seem to be dead. And no we didn't kill them, orc loyalties basically at the root of this – those loyal to shaman cluster around him in the battle-line while the Old Chiefs clustered around him (knife in back fears I'd guess) so heavy casualties equals easy politics for the moment. Moron, One-Eye's retard understudy is alive, albeit barely, so we decided to move now before he gets a sudden case of the brains. Or at least as much of a thought process as the God of Stupidity allows his followers I figure.

Anyway getting off topic so as was saying, internal politics at play post-battle. Stormfang right now are the stronger of the two clans in our merry little alliance, and with One-Eyed Jackass down the Old Dude doesn't have to struggle with him for dominance in the clan...but the main word for the Old Chief is OLD. Which would be fine for a shaman, or magic user who rose to dominance in a clan, but our dear old ally rose, as most chiefs do, by being the biggest, meanest badass in the clan. Now he can still fight, and could probably whup my green skinned ass in a fair one, but he's old and now suffering from injuries. He's the old lion whose time hasn't come yet but is fast approaching and he has no (living) sons to take charge. This was behind his marrying his daughter Breyza to Zah in real terms.

So with a sudden crippling of the opposition within his clan, and his bad-ass awesomeness shown to still exist, we've gone and changed the game board. Crushing victories let you do things in their aftermath. Things you don't normally get away with a clan with a young chief and shaman running the plot opposite a technically older and more established chief and shaman. Frankly I suspect divine manipulation to put the various pieces in play; this wasn't easy, and likely not what was intended per se anyway, but Sparta is growing a rapid pace. Which is of course good cuz I'm on a nasty damned deadline right now with a ton of impossible things to do.

Long story short; as of right now...well there is no Stormfang anymore, nor is there any Thunderblades. From evermore there are only Spartans of Sparta who are sworn to Ilneval as their patron deity. Great victories let you DO THINGS as I said and uniting our clans was the logical approach, even if technically Stormfang is moreso absorbing Thundeblades into our clan and adopting the methods and tactics myself, Oggy and Zah have created. Not that it was a simply thing. God No, never simple. Pomp and ceremony and blood oaths organised at the last minute to go along with the mechanics of our new clan's leadership. In this regards we're having dual chiefs' technically – I copied Earth!Sparta in this regards, with a bit of Rome thrown in. A rather meaningless reference to Faerunians I know but we have a governance plan.

Zah and Breyjuk as joint Chiefs, or Kings opinion dependent, and are basically there for war-making and defending alternating; the plan is that Breyza his daughter will take over in a couple of seasons to fulfil the Thunderblades slot. Makes sense as it doesn't seem strange to anyway, at least we hope. After that we have a five orc council; Myself as High Priest of Ilneval (in Sparta anyway and hey if they get to be 'Kings' then I'm the Orc Pope since the Boss is bullying me into the job anyway), Oggy of course for Luthic and shockingly representing the females.

Gasp! Women having a vote!

I'm sure Moron is crying right now at the thought but my view is getting the (numerous) clan females and their own informal council on board NOW stops problems LATER. And thankfully there's no divine lightning bolt against females offering advice and stuff, just about them not being in control evidently. Stupid if you ask me but you work with what you got.

Anyway there's three more on this 'law-giver' council, Cardac and a Thundeblades dude named Pher'kak for the warriors, and then another (as yet undecided) 'Lawgiver' to be directly elected by all the grown males of the clan. Gives legitimacy to our new clan; our chiefs are badass, we crush our enemies and while everyone knowns who's the boss the boss still listens to opinions. And you don't have to start murdering to do it. 'Democratic' mechanisms aren't just vague things, they give a release valve for all the pressures I'm worried the iron discipline and training being pushed on the clan (s). Only time will tell.

So we had a big fancy ceremony while still standing in our armour with some dried bloodstains on them (I'm looking at you Ghorza! For a girl obsessed with cleanliness for an orc you certainly we're slow at cleaning off those!) in the main hall of our home. We did the 'shocking' action of burning our clan totems to symbolize that these clans are gone – and then pulled our new totem from the flames as we swore blood oaths to our new clan (which is blood sore cutting your hand).

And NO I'm not being metaphorical or poetic with getting our new totem from the flames of the old. We prayed as you do at the ceremony and we had a new totem as ready and planned out...

Then got shown this is bloody Faerun and when you make a religious symbolism like that. Well the Boss decided he either liked it, or is just bemused with us. Because dear Gods...just as the two totems burned to ash, and me and Oggy started to ready the next stage. Then suddenly...LIGHT!

Bright frikken light. Oh and a new stylish black metal totem with a blood red crystal sword clasped in its talons. Did I say praise Ilneval?

Yeah Praise Him because he doesn't fuck around I find.

--

When: Getting into Late Spring I'd reckon

Where: Overlooking the river in the valley

Haven't had much of a chance to write in the past few days since leaving Sparta, we've being on the move constantly shadowing the main Fingercutter group. They've been shedding small groups since their defeat our hunter groups reported and it's continued since we started to near them and they became aware of that.

We've even had a handful, mostly very young, who've basically said they want to defect already. A surprise and we've hustled them off to Sparta under a guard as there were less than a dozen, but we did get alot of information out of them on the situation in their clan before sending them on their merry way.

Tid-bit Numero Uno – This isn't some great invasion of our lands in the sense of a great expansion of the Fingercutters. Nope, far from it; instead they've been driven out of their stronghold by humans, a 'whole lot of damned humies' to exact. Or from all the sounds of it Uthgard barbarian humans once you break down the crude descriptions they gave us. Not exactly relevant right now I know but it further indicates the reason why the Fingercutters ain't retreating back where they came from and seemingly aiming to stand and fight again.

Note to self: Yeah there's nothing in the 'Holy Books' I think about any Uthgard Barbarian Warlord rising successfully like this in this general area beyond Griffons Nest, who it isn't from the sounds of it. Need to research them if it's something I overlooked or this is a local thing. Since they crushed the Fingercutters its likely they're a growing threat since, well, the Fingercutters outgunned us at the start of this BS. Even in the glow of victory you get this nonsense stuffed in your face to bring you down.

Anyway secondly they're starving; the confirmation of what we suspected very much was the case with them. A factor that's evidently driving the desertions as much as the defeat itself it seems. At least amongst the actual Fingercutters – their goblins allies and various small orc bands they'd impressed into service were gone almost the day after they lost.

So we've being hitting any hunting or foraging groups they try to send out and it lets us stay defensive opposite them for the moment. We have about equal numbers now, though we've the better quality by a clear mile and their morale is shit now, but I like stacking every advantage before taking the field for victory.

At least after alot of arguing that we do so – a significant minority of the warriors would like to have a go right now but seem to have listened to 'let them starve' for the moment. There's no rush if that's the case as they're growing weaker with each passing day on meagre rations. Once these run out...well then the balls in their court then, and I'd prefer them to attack us than the reverse.

And I've made sure we stick always being on higher ground while shadowing them, that and making sure they're watxhed during the daylight hours as well. I just regret not bringing either Kethri or Mara; we've really only got Zah's half-elven bed-warmer and three of the half-orcs as Missy needs basic rest periods to keep her spells.

Thirdly they've lost a good chunk of their leadership and their spell-casters during the battle. This means of course tha...

Time to move again it seems.

--

When: Two or Three days since my last enty

Where: Moving very slowly eastward each day in stop-start movements

Gods this tiring. Though at least we're getting rest – whenever our quarry try to settle in we start to make a move on them and press them in the continuing to move. No way in hell I'm letting them fortify a defensive position or break contact on their terms. That and they're growing weaker and weaker, and more desperate, with each day it looks like from their continued trickle of desertions – we're making no effort to stop these as long as they head away from Spartan territory. Every-orc in the clan basically agrees with that even if not wanting 'cowardly weaklings' in our clan or lands when we win. Orcs, we're like that sometimes.

Anyway we've had a number of small clashes of squad sized groups every few hours from us probing at their position and keeping them under constant shadow, and from their seeking to drive us off or figure out where we are. Our constant withdrawing when they come out in full force, and then wiping out groups that get too far forward seems to be aggravating them greatly in its 'unorky' nature. Not that our lot care, we're very obviously winning in the clan warriors minds and we certainly do love that by whatever means we can. Hey chaotic evil thinking actually working to my advantage for once in my hit and run and terror tactics.

Anyway it's cold here, and I'm tired, so not going to write much more as Missy is dozing away against me and we could be on the move again at a moment's notice.

--

When: Dawn? Moving towards Midday?

Where: Under shade from this blasted sun

Zah thinks it's time to strike and I tend to agree. I'd like to have them attack us but hey the ground is nice open coming up ahead and we'll be coming down on them. That and they're heading for a reasonably defensible position with the possibility of some food in that grove. Our hunters say not nearly enough to even feed them a few days but it's a risk we don't need to take. It's pretty apparent they're living on fumes having eaten all their cattle, wargs and dogs, and unfortunately whatever slaves not taken away from the by the large number of females that abandoned them yesterday.

A large number of these came to us, and are guarded in the caves well to out rear (not taking chances here by letting them near a fight with their menfolk), though a significant minority are moving out of the valley with some of the youngest male warriors, ie, armed children. So the remainder of their warriors are intent on do or die – it's very clear they aren't surrendering.

Proud old clan in those remnants; their intent of either finding a way to survive or go down fighting it seems. It's the oldest warriors they've got left along with the fanaticism of teenagers filled with the ideas of achieving the impossible or having a glorious death. What I'm afraid of is them getting under defences, miraculously finding supplies of sorts and then costing us a huge price in blood to drive them out of it. Its Faerun that kind of miraculous divine bull-shite is all too real in my mind after that little 'blessing' of our clan by the Boss himself a few days ago.

So killing time again it seems. Hence going in during broad daylight – in general we orcs are dazzled by such bright painful sunshine, especially on a bright sunny spring day like this. Well...except my lot who've been a) used to moving during the sunshine quite regularly during our nomadic period and b) I've been having drills and training constantly during the daylight hours since we got to Sparta over a year ago now. Even before that for the younger warriors around mine and Zah's age. Former Thunderblades don't of course but they'll have to cope as best they can.

Our bellies are full. We're rested. We've our magic ready. We now outnumber them in terms of fighters as best we can tell. So everybody's armoring up and readying themselves for (hopefully) a surprise attack on our foe who (also hopefully) should have empty bellies, little sleep and are suffering from the bright daylight.

Praise Ilneval we are victorious.

--

When: End of Spring, 1352DR (I really need to create an Orcish calendar)

Where: Home Sweet Home

I can't remember who said it, my memory of my past life...is often generalised at best, which is a problem, but I digress. Someone once said something like "There's nothing except a battle lost is nearly as bad as a battle won" or something to that effect anyway. Whatever the case that feeling was certainly there in my mind after our final battle with the Fingercutters; our ensuing, total, crushing, victory over them where we basically wiped them out as a clan. So total and crushing in fact we didn't actually lose anyone in the melee, just some injured while we left a bonfire of corpses in our wake.

Yes turns out piling advantage on advantage against a starving and exhausted foe works, works in all its horrible, cruel, glory as we simply rolled over their remaining warriors in a single forward motion. More a methodical slaughter of them than a battle in truth, one can say they were brave to the end...or merely saw it as a mercy to die in battle to avoid the suffering and ignominy of starving to death. Or whatever the fuck was going through their food deprived brains when we clashed with them, i don't know, but whatever the case they fought with suicidal fervor. And the muscles of orcs hadn't had a full meal in weeks and lacked any armour either through losses in the last battle or through the fact they weren't strong enough to wear it.

Which was a real possibility as after the first few minutes many of them were already collapsing from exhaustion as we rumbled forward; a wall of shields with spear and swords stabbing out that made corpses out of the living as it went. Good news there I suppose, my tactics and formation training really paid off on the attack, even if it was against an army of the already dying it seems. Tactics that work ever so well that the entire clan, new additions and all, are fully behind them and convinced there the future; Gods I'm not sure to be proud or disgusted at myself honestly after that hill of dead bodies and the smell of shit.

That and reigning in the post-slaughter rapine and revelry that many clan-orcs wanted to indulge in; horrifying. But unfortunately true and best I could do is essentially allow a pick of females for harems as official concubines or such for the warriors, when we got back to Sparta. Because if I don't get a handle on it now it'll be a damned disaster when we get too civilized areas and it leaves us vulnerable to enemies. Wait till we're in camp and we can do it in an organised manner. Or at least that's how I explained it in terms of clan self-interest and discipline rather than "can we not be so damned fucking evil all the time!" which wouldn't be listened too. It's never really been an issue before I'd failed to realise till now as on raids there wasn't time for such things due to need for speed, and this is the first time we're starting to get into significant battle numbers and are on the offensive. The glories of success in this crap-sack world I find.

That and having to deal with aftermath of our crushing victory, because as sad and all as it is to have essentially annihilated all the males of fighting age of the enemy and destroy their sacred clan totem...the dreadful fact remains it was probably the 'best' outcome for Sparta right now. Because we've inherited well over a hundred to two hundred extra mouths to feed in the shape of their females and children, starving females and children who largely view being taken as slaves or forcefully adopted respectively as being a step up in the world. Starving to death can do that...and it's also stretched our own supplies to breaking point.

Or at least it will stretch our supplies to breaking point very bloody soon unless we do something. Sparta is growing, and growing to too damned fast with a population badly skewed in terms of demographics with maybe five to one female to male. And that's excluding the dozen or so more slaves we took prior to the battle from the Fingercutters and the fact the various goblin and kobold vassals of ours are congregating around Sparta due to the battle.

When we'd, Me, Oggy, Ma and now dead One-Eyed twit, planned out the supplies we'd assumed a smaller population than we now have, and also having this season to further stock up more like last year; then we'd stomp on the Bugbears and all would be merry and fine. Instead our numbers have exploded and we just spent an entire season either fighting or having our hunters tracking our enemies movements instead of hunting the currently abundant game in the valley. The females took in some forage, but much of that got into beer or mead I found out; Orcs we have our priorities straight it seems at least!

So campaign against the Bugbears and Clearing Out the Bottom Dungeon just got moved down the agenda for a month or two till we start into rectifying this issue. In theory it's easy, in a past life I lived in a rural farming area and while not a farmer per se do know how to actually grow stuff...except we're not allowed to farm as orcs thanks to the glorious One-Eyed Leader of our species. Bangs head off wall for hundredth time re: divine mandates. So second best solution on that front; I've got the goblin slaves and those of vassals doing sweet feck all, planting all those plots I'd had readied before winter as well as readying more down below in the most fertile spots I can see that are close enough to defend without difficulty. If that lot are going to be here they'll be put to use.

Not that'll solve my immediate issue, but it'll prevent the problem of winter and running out of food. Now we also have a small cattle herd now, not many but a dozen or so heifers, no bull though sadly, but eating them is a last resort same as with our now handful of mountain goats we've grabbed. At least their milk will help abit now we've started building a barn and shed for them and started quasi regular milking, that and their shit will be good fertilizer for the new farming plots I figure. Really though we need to do some cattle raiding this year to increase the herd, compared to the animals of my past life these things are scrawny auld things that give only a teeny tiny amount of milk.

But at least we're quasi allowed to cattle ranchers so I can put the trainee warriors to herding; hey it'll keep'em fit at least while enforcing a 'No Eating Moo-Moo's' rule to those bloody dumbass goblins. Post victory we've already started them through a modified version of our own iron discipline train to try turn them into something useful in the field (rather than arrow sponges or meaty shield-walls) but I've doubts about that at times when I watch them. At least it keeps both groups too busy to start fighting each other so that's plus I guess. That and sending them out to help our hunters and foragers in the coming weeks and months, since that is the most quickest and easiest way to fill the larders. Because Sparta is rapidly starting to evolve from ruined orc Stronghold to small town in a rather disturbingly swift manner as mentioned, a boom town in many ways and we need to stabilise a bit.

Well that was cathartic to write. Mostly because it's easier I find to write down problems and victory unlike all the stories does not solve all the problems and give a happy ending just because you won a fight. If anything it's temporally made things worse by more mouths to feed, for workers who'll need a few weeks of said feeding to actually be productive. That and I've been skirting around the main issue that's bomb shelled me a little while ago; Oggy's pregnant and I've little mouth to feed on the way. So there's alot on my mind right now to figure out right now, from that, to everyone getting hungry, to where do we raid and what do about our now unified clan and future slaves. When did life become so complicated?

Crap. Hail Sparta and the Greater Good I suppose? Always look on the bright of life? Praise the Boss? Run around in circles?

Okay magic lessons first, stress later. Slainte.

--

[Ogrash 01]

Sparta

Rubbing her face as she blinked awake Ogrash gave a slight yawn in the low gloom of the room, and glancing to her side she noticed Karguk snoring away softly. Deciding to let him sleep as she wasn't in the mood she pushed the fur off her before stretching and rubbing at her muscles, as the annoying sunlight streamed in from the window in the corner. Sunlight was unnatural to her mind no matter all that Karguk said it was good for stuff for growing things, and training in it had made it less painful over time; everything would be better if days were nice and cheerful like the darkness of a cave. Still the fire in the hearth still burned giving the room a nice warmth, and equally to her liking one of the slaves, Mattie, was awake and gone to her knees, forehead to ground in greeting to Ogrash as her superior.

"Come" she told her simply clicking her fingers in the slave's direction as she strode across the room, grabbing some of her clothes and slinging them over her shoulder as she went. It'd likely be another long evening and night of training, ceremony and meetings so best to get what relaxation and a full belly now while she was already up and awake. Life was busier now that it had been before they'd come here, but the rewards...the rewards were so worth it.

A warm bed, a full belly, her mate a leader in a growing tribe and was listening to her advice like she'd feared wouldn't be the case when she was younger, or at least without having to threaten them if they were idiots like Zah. She shivered, having Zah as a mate wasn't something she'd wish on any female even if Breyza seemed not to mind Ogrash's friend's regular bouts of idiocy and trying to shag anything that moved. Throwing her clothes on the back of a chair, and the slave trotting along obediently behind her, she came to the rock table and adjusted the furs before hopping unto them, resting her head on her arms "Ok, do yer stuff slave, me muscles are a bit achy right? Ands tells mes wots ways things are in the tower 'afore we cook the food"

"Of course Mistress, a pleasure to serve" the slave answered quietly in good solid orcish moving to straddle her owner's back and fix the bothersome muscles. It was quite a useful skill the small female had Ogrash found as the smaller, weaker, slave's fingers went to work on her shoulders and back. But it made sense in her mind, weak, unattractive and lacking the strength of an orc female to defend its young, those of other races probably needed such skills to have any hope in gaining a mate. After all one knew magic, one could weave better than any clan-orc and this one could cook and ease sore muscles and all of them were weak and unattractive; all proving Ogrash's theory she found!

"In regards the larder Mistress, the last of the carrots and the apples will be used up today I think, and the stores of the herbs that you had collected are down to three jars. We're also beginning to run low on the salted venison and wolf meat as well, though with your order to use less it should last several weeks without issue. May I suggest Mistress that we cook more stews? I know they take longer and have less in them but it would make the remaining supplies last much longer. Perhaps even the whole season with luck" the nervous voice behind her and Ogrash hummed faintly in thought. The whole clan had been eating well most of the past year and cooking certain foods would make their forage last longer while giving the feeling of being fed. Her own Ma and Grandma had taught her something like that and now that all the hunting parties could be freed from the fighting, and foraging females sent out without threat, the clan might not even notice the cut in portions.

"Hmmm, cooks stew likes you says laters and I sees what thinks, ifs you do goods thens I not have cuts you and you slaves ration if we runs lows..." she answered feeling the tension gradually ease out of her muscles by the slave's hand. In truth unless they got desperate she had no intention of cutting the three slaves food, as Karguk had shown they worked far better when fed, but she had to remind them who was the orc and senior female in this den and who was the slave "...ands whats is there lots ofs in larder still?"

"Bread, a few crates Mistress, though it's going quite hard and dry. Tomatoes that we have been sun drying on the room along with just about four barrels worth of mixed roots and tubers with what was delivered yesterday to the tower. I've planted all the seedlings on the rooftop as you wished Mistress but they will not grow for another season at least" she answered apologetically. Mattie was a useful slave, once they'd gotten her capable of speech again anyway, and Ogrash nodded faintly not expecting anything different after her own glance at the larder a few nights ago. With some training and a firm hand the two slaves could handle the menial duties of the hearth while she performed her duties for Luthic, and bore her young into this world. She smiled faintly at the thought of having been so blessed already by the Cave Goddess.

"Good. Now, has anyones trys to gets intos the tower while we have been aways? Any strange things?"

"No one has tried to come into the upper tower since those two youngsters followed our fellow slave Missy, and Mistress Ghorza, upstairs several weeks ago Mistress..." Ogrash snorted in amusement. She remembered the little idiots, either greedy for knowledge or just looking to peek at, or torment, the slave females. Well after the trashing she'd given the two of them they'd not be breaking the rules again anytime soon "...and we have watched for any others as you wished. All that we have seen that is strange is that an older orc sometimes glares at this tower angrily as both Kethri and I have seen him do so from the window facing unto the courtyard when you and the Master are away with the Great Chiefs of this Stronghold and he likely things none are watching. I do not know his name Mistress, I think he is one of the new clans. This slave is sorry."

"Hmm. You pointings this orc out to mes later slave, you do good and be rewards" she answered continuing to practice her Common Tongue as her mind tried to figure out their potential problem case was. Things were going so well, beyond the food situation of course, that the newly created clan's feelings were joyous, fanatical even, in their following of the New Ways of Ilneval.They even had a magical totem granted by the Gods themselves to backup the glorious slaughters of their foes in righteous battle. What more could this older idiot want? She'd find out and see if was bitterness or just angry over some petty thing that a good sound trashing would fix.

Even the newly captured Fingercutter females had already been made aware of their place in the pecking order of the clan females, at the bottom, and these and the victories won had secured Zah's, Karg's and her own position within the clan. But as the Chief's friend and her mate's first wife it was up to her to watch for any dissenters to be won over by them...or problem cases to be removed. Sparta would be a great clan one day soon and it was her duty as Luthic's Priestess, to her clan, to her coming child, to eliminate any within Sparta than would endanger them. The Hearth Mother had given them sharp claws for good reason; to defend the clan even if nobody talked about like the glory that was shown to a warrior. After all what was there to remember of an accidental fall or a bad beer compared to the glory of a death in battle in the name of the horde?

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Note-

Forgot to mention. Mara is Mattie to Ogrash. She kinda conflates Mara and her sister Kethri, but from Mara POV thats hardly an problem as its better than the nasty things her previous owner(s) called her.

[Zahgorim 05]

Valley of Sparta

"Eh it's been a good hunt hasn't it Chief?" Zahgorim heard to his side, turned his head and nodded at the approach of the older warrior Cardac. Before them in centre of their temporary camp was the results of their past few days hunt at the edge of the valley; deer and pheasant corpses hanging from their racks, beside them still noisy sounds coming wooden cages of a few live animals they'd manage to capture. All in all it had been a great success even if they had to constantly on guard for any potential enemy seeking to steal their prizes, the bugbears still had to be dealt with unfortunately.

Zahgorim gave a contented grunt "Eyup, been going real good so far I think, quite the haul. If the other group did even half as good we'll have the larders full again in no time. No trouble with your squad?" he asked glancing at other nine clan-orcs of Cardac's group as they began unloading their own additions to the haul, a dead deer and mountain goat this time carried on the shoulders of four of the nine hunters. Of the others he saw they'd collected a few rabbits and two sacks filled with what smelled like sweet fruits; a decent haul by their group all in all.

It was good to have all three squads back together, dawn was fast approaching and they could rest in the crude wooden shelters they'd set up on the ledge. Up here they had a damn good view of below, and anyone trying to be sneaky, and off in the distance they could see their stronghold atop its hill under the moonlight. Faint lights were visible from it and at its base from the campfires lit for cooking or merely to give off warmth, these nights were quite cold even with summer season nearly upon them. Not the days were much better, being mostly of bright, painfully bright, sunshine broken up by odd days of fog in the valley with soft rains.

"No trouble, but there is something important Chief, well could be anyway. We saw what we could be campfires off in the far distance, off to the east of us..." Cardac said motioning with his chainmail covered arm to a point hidden behind the side of the valley they were on "...thought it might be a trick of the light but again tonight we're sure we saw them again, this time a little bit away from where it had been. Could be somebody moving along the more open ground during the day, iffa had to guess I'd say it's a caravan or a big group of the dem damned adventurers"

'Big difference there between the two of'em Cardac' Zahgorim thought with amusement, the first being often a great source of loot while the second was nothing but trouble and a possible danger to his growing clan. He looked at the senior squad captain curiously as he handed him a bowl of soup from the cook-pot "Which you think is more likely Cardac?"

The older orc shrugged as he followed his Chief's motion to sit with him and talk while they ate "Honestly Boss if it's anything it's a caravan, dem foul adventurin' sorts have the really dumb sort to be having campfires like that. Caravan might be comin' down from that Mirabar or Luskan to go to the damned elves far to the east, or Hobgoblin traders headin' to Fingercutter's former territory. Word probably only starting to get around about them even havin' moved let alone that we whupped their worthless asses!"

"Hehe, yeah but soon all the other clans will know of our badassery I guess..." Zahgorim having a small laugh with Cardac at the memory of their glorious victory of a few weeks ago, by now those who'd fled amongst the enemy before the final battle or from their worthless goblins, were spreading word of this to those around the valley "...but what you suggest Cardac? We've plenty of stores, and that'll take a few days to get back home. And Karg' be very pissed at me if we go off risking an attack, leave all this behind and then find out its nothing"

"Yeah could be nuffin' as you say boss, too far away say for sure in truth. I could take my squad forward with a few of them goblins while the rest of ye head back home? Not gonna boast we I think we're the best hunters of the lot of us Boss. We head over see what's there, if they're going easy ground they'll either have come through the valley and follow the river, or they head off eastward. If they head east we'd never catch'em and if they come into the valley..." Cardac said in reply as he finished off his soup in one last gulping motion as Zahgorim nodded, finishing the sentence "...we'll have time catch them. And if there's nothing we don't waste time and effort chasing nothing and lose time we could hunting...sigh...yeah sounds like a good idea to me"

Truth was they couldn't afford to rush off chasing what could be just nothing more that illusions, or at worst provoke a full enemy war-party that wasn't even interested in them in the first place. If they did come into the valley he'd rather talk to Karg and Oggy, and Breyguk too, before deciding what to do. And as Da had explained when he was still alive you didn't raid too close to your Den, it just invited attack when the friends of those you raided came looking for them. It was why Stormfang had always raided well away from their camp, even when they were always on the move. If they were a caravan of Hobgoblins it would a bad idea to raid them as it was often the only way to exchange all the captured gold and silver for better weapons and armour these traders usually had. When they got raid they'd stop coming to that area which would anger the other clans nearby, let alone whoever the Big Boss behind such traders.

'Rights. Cardac track's them; we bring our haul back home and fill the larders. If we're lucky they're a caravan, turn into the valley and we decide what to do, and if they turn away it doesn't matter...and if its enemy warriors we've time to prepare and ambush them before they get near the clan. Okay...yeah that'll be fine I think' he tried to think it through looking up the descending moon and slowly brightening sky above them.

If they rested for a short period and pressed hard to get back to Sparta they'd make the journey in perhaps a day and half he guessed if they didn't stop for more than the shortest rest. At worse it'd be good exercise for the newest warrior recruits among them that needed toughening up, too many of their warriors were younger than Zahgorim. And in truth he was but a young warrior himself he knew even if he had seen a few battles already and now stood as a Co-Chief of Sparta. Decision made he nodded and took on that 'chiefly' tone Da had used when he'd made up his mind and was being the Boss Orc.

"Okay we'll do that. You take your squad out and see what's there, just don't get seen Cardac right?" the older orc grunted in agreement as his chief continued "We'll only have a quick rest and pack up the camp, I don't like moving in the daylight, bloody sore on the eyes I know but the quicker we get back the quicker we can get a proper warband together if we need too. Once you find out whats causing it send a runner back. So you go tell your boys and I'll tell the others the bad news they get to have day's hard running instead of rest after the hunt like they all think right now"

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