In My Time of Troubles Chapter 13: Entry 13, a dungeons and dragons fanfic

[Krowluc 06]

Inner Keep, Sparta

"Drink up, fuck your women and otherwise enjoy yourselves and rest up tomorrow. And that's a fuckin order by the way. If I catch any ye drinkin or screwin tomorrow, or not ready to ride the day after I'll wipe yer hides raw! And don't get into any trouble with the Bosses boys either or else!" he roared at the assembled group of his riders as they crowd around him as they entered into the loud and raucous atmosphere of the main Keep of the stronghold. At least this time it was for drinking rather than a fairly terrifying religious experience as the Gods made their blessings known to this clan (and himself in attendance) in a rather...illuminating...manner. Still with all the other odd quirks of his new overlords this counted as a positive sign for a lengthy and rewarding employment. Assuming they survived of course, but divine favour and numerous clerics did tend to increase survival odds on the battlefield he'd found in the past.

"RIGHT CAPTAIN!" came the collective response from his assembled mass of idiots. Not that they'd stray far since just over half of them were either humans or female orcs, and his three half-elves including Bareyaras certainly weren't going to go far from the group here in the castle itself. Luckily they were amongst one of the first groups allowed into hastily assembled feasting area it seemed, so establishing his own close in collection of four crude 'tables' for his lot close together was remarkable easy. Moments later he discovered it was less luck than the machinations of his fellow company member Nimmil, who promptly strode over escorted by a young orc warrior dressed with shaman's insignia on his clan cloak.

"About bloody time you lot all arrived! You know hard it was to get the Shaman to put you lot ahead of others? Because I wasn't going to be bloody standing all bloody night amidst all these fuckin giants ah males! And all those godsdamned kobold vermin running around too! Seven Hells but do I need a drink afor you lot abandon me here on your adventures!" she snapped out half-annoyed, half-cheerfully, as made an imperious gesture at himself and the 'captains' of his small cavalry force Bareyaras and Thieving Kyras. The latter of which snorted in amusement, rolling her eyes with arms folded across her chest in as she replied.

"Abandoning you? Fuck you, you little gnome bitch...getting to sleep in yer nice warm bed and having nice hot food - while we get slog through the cold and wet enduring on travel rations! Seven Hells if that's not unfair! Orcs should look after thar own first and not little runty gnomes like you! What da fuck makes you so damn special?"

"What? Beyond my natural grace and charm? Well I'd say they want me for my wonderful and stupendous magical brain...and spell-books too! Now whose magic is stupid eh?"

Krowluc groaned faintly as he sat back on barrel now turned chair "Oh don't start you two, it's too bloody early for your idiocy, anyway..." he glanced at the shaman's acolyte, one of the Battlestaves they called them "...I guess your Boss has orders?"

"Nah, Shaman Karguk just wanted the Dread Gnome brought over to you without trouble, place is full of those scaly buggers..."

"I could take those little lizard bastards!" came a indignant cry from the short female as she scrambled up unto her own 'chair' alongside his bemused, or just confused, riders. The orc acolyte, likely eager to get back to his own drinking and evidently used to Nimmil's ways already ploughed on, ignoring her interruption.

"...and don't want a fight breaking out. So I'm to warn you; Keep them apart. The kobolds been warned as well and are a distance away. Bosses don't want magic flyin simple. Feast startin' soon so females and slaves be around soon with booze and food"

He gave his gnome companion a stern look and she nodded seriously. Bad enough if he had to keep the non-orcs from trouble, and Kyras or/and Bareyaras from causing trouble, without Nimmil starting a spell duel or something with some damned kobold sorcerer. He nodded back to the young orc "Right, you can tell the Shaman and Chiefs there'll be no trouble on our part; we're just glad to be here for the feasting"

With a fist to heart salute the young orc nodded and strode off as the noise level within the halls began to grow as guttural voices engaged in conversation, ribald song, or even just demands for food filled the Keep. Not that his lot cared as two barrels were carried over by four big burly orc males and deposited between their tables; one of ale from the human village, and the other of that strong orc made Mhrogh. At least this lot here used animal blood in the mixture rather than slaves, or just weaker orcs, like more than a few clans he'd heard off or seen in the past. Still it was good stuff, and evidently blessed by the Priestess of Luthic here in the clan according to what Nimmil was saying. She should know he figured, staying in the Shaman's tower and all that, and he took a flagon of the stuff in hand. Fuck it. He needed a good strong drink to get the night started since there wouldn't be many more such nights again for months to come. The rest of his cavalry seemed to understand that as well and soon flagons were being dunked into the barrels one after another by them as they chatted about nonsense amongst themselves. It'd taken a bit but he'd managed to get them to operate as something close to a group even if not the same species. Something he'd learned from Captain Phlaen afore the unlucky bastard had bit it back in that shitty little village nearly a year ago now. He glanced at Nimmil.

"Sure you don't want to join us? Could do with the magical support?"

She shook her head in the negative after taking a solid gulp of the dark red drink, impressive enough for her size as usual he found "Fraid not Captain, chance of a lifetime here I'll say. And getting paid for it too! Yeah not best fun at times, but fuck...got these spell-books to study and Ned the Necromancer has a lot to teach. When I pay him ah course, sensible mercenary bugger he is, so ye do your thing and ah'll do mine for next few months looks like Captain"

'Bout what I expected' he thought with a nod, taking a drink from his own flagon and tasting the bitter and strong taste of the booze. Losing Nimmil to the stronghold for the next year was unfortunate but she'd hardly been at the training thanks to her own arcane teaching role so he'd doubted simply asking again at the last moment would have any impact. Still never hurt to try he figured as the wonderful smell of roast meat reached his nose. After the rather dull rations over the past month, mostly thanks to the harsh winter and the need to ration the way though it, made this feast make his mouth water. Before them he saw young and pretty orc females of the clan begin carrying out roast hogs and deer's taken in the first hunts of the spring.

Along with salted meats, fruits and every form of wonderful tasting food that had been conserved over the winter or taken in the past week's extensive foraging. It seemed the rulers of the Sparta clan were either trying to show off the extent of their power (and generosity) to their vassals or attempting to give a boost to the morale of their warhost after the cold, often depressing beneath the snow, months waiting here. Krowluc would count it though as a well deserved reward for the exhausting training regime this clan ran. Gods above most town militias would have sat around and drank during the snows; these Spartan's had merely moved their training sessions inside and underground.

Soon the music, or at least the loud and crude form that passed for such out here in the wilds, started up and a number of female slaves came out and began dancing at various points amidst the halls to the hooting cheers of many of those present. A mix of human and goblin females, clean and barely clad, if at all, as they danced to the drums and pipes beating in the background. Along with the cheers and whistles that joined it, and not just from the orcs but even from many of the human village warriors ensconced in the other corner, or from amongst his own little band at the nearest. Well there was one advantage of being inside the Keep than being part of the feast out in the courtyard.

"I'm liking this feast Captain!" one of his riders, a young human named Egar stated in crude orcish looking at the nearby ones. Earning a round a laughter from the company overall along with a few rough backslaps, and grumbling complaints from one or two of the female members of where was their entertainment. Kyras interjected on that.

"Well that's Bareyaras is for girls! And isn't it nice of Egar here to volunteer hisself like that for being our dancer later on! T'aint it!"

"Woot! Yesh!" came back from the female riders alongside a "Nooooo!" from their compatriot that was drowned out by the thunderous laughter of the rest of the company, himself included. Bareyaras merely grumbled something back in annoyance as he made a pass at the half-orc girl delivering a platter with cooked rabbits and small birds upon it. Or maybe they were cooked rats, all the same he found anyway. So he allowed himself to relax somewhat, drinking the strong bear and eating the cooked meat as they enjoyed the entertainments provided while they regaled each with nonsense tales as always. Or at least tried to as voices had to be raised to rise over the loud boisterous atmosphere of the feast; that plus the small scuffles that broke out from time to time before being broken up by older warriors on guard. Drunken orcs in the insignia of the Shaman wandering over and speaking to Nimmil, before wandering back off, also was proving a distraction.

Of course that had resulted somehow in Nimmil standing on drunkenly on their table declaring herself "NIMMIL THE *hic* DREAD GNOME OF SPARTA! *hic* THE AWESOMESTS! *hic* THE MOST GORGOEUS! *hic* THE EMP...whaaa" till he managed to get her back down before the kobold insults started alongside the puking...

Note: Yes I know slice of life, haven't done one for a few chapters now and wanted to show the 'social atmosphere' within the Spartan army before it sets out. That and there's indicators within the setting of how the SI has indirectly influenced certain things vs 'normal' behavior. (as to the feasting - it's less medieval and more pre-christian Ireland in its nature and sound)

Journal of Loraatris Hollysword [05]

Month of Mapenoth, 1353 Dale Reckoning (mine mind hath lost track of the exact date)

Mine mind doth race even now with all these dark revelations and chaos, and yet these trembling fingers have not the time to write in earnest of the disasters that hath befallen us. For mine heart fears that alone amongst mine companions hath my min...

Dear Gods Kargs an Orc! Doctor Ned is a Dark Necromancer Wizard! And KARG. IS. AN. ORC! I bedded an orc! Gods above the world is gone crazy around me and now we're fleeing through dark and dank countryside because the Host Tower of the Arcane wants us dead! And there all talking about fleeing to an orc stronghold and hiding there.

Gods I'm the only sane one left. And dear Gods Mother was right. Only a savage creature like a goblin or orc would want me!

KARG.IS.AN.ORC.

I must rest now. Gods I need to rest now.

Month of Mapenoth, 1353 Dale Reckoning

A brief stop here in this village so mine time is short. We hath fled up the Mirar river towards fair Mirabar and the choice is mine today to continue on to this refugee or to follow Lua further into the madness that she is set upon. For it is madness and each moment mine eyes close they see Karg betraying us, chaining me, Lua (and those harlots of Etlins) and taking me back as war trophies!

Any moment now it could happen!

[Redacted for Reasons of Public Morals]

But still despite this risk Lua hath set herself firmly upon this path, stating that she trusts Karg and Doctor Ned in this matter and will journey on. Encouraging me to both follow and to talk to Karg once again. Mine mind and heart art filled with fear! Each day they see his eyes gaze upon mine body (Mine follow him at every moment in wariness to know this!) in a lustful manner. Undressing and ravishing me in that dark goblinoid mind that mine cannot see no doubt!

Madness! Madness mine mind says!

But too abandon Lua to his wicked ways is beyond the pale. No this Bard will follow along despite the dangers and find some manner to shatter whatever foul orc spell that hath been cast upon mine friend and the others!

Early in the Month of Uktar perhaps, 1353 Dale Reckoning

Acquiring these travel and pack horses hath aided our moments greatly, despite costing the great extent of our remaining funds. But then what need hath the mad of coin?

For this Bard fears still that mine mind is the only one sane and uncorrupted. Karg hath finally revealed his true fiendish form not more than a few morrows ago. Standing tall as a giant over mine own frail form all that could be done was to resist trembling in preparation for the moment of revealing his foul and wicked plan (or plans)!

But still for whatever reason, known only to his foul, wicked and perverse orc mind, Karg hath not yet made his move. And still despite his new, taller, orc form the others are committed to the path they are upon. So now we travel in circles, backtrack and trudge through cruel wilderness towards this horrid place mine former friend and bed mate calls home.

Oh cruel fate what hath thee in store for mine poor self!

Month of Uktar, 1353 Dale Reckoning

Karg, who is also Karguk evidently, has a harem. And a castle, and villages to rule, and an army. Be he doth possess a harem. With orcs and humans and Gods is my mine and Lua's forms to be added the collection!

Forced to parade around each day in naught but scandalous wear and collars, or perhaps just slave collars alone for the pleasing of mine new Master! Will mine lips have to call Karg that as these three slave of his, each a fair beauty surpassing mine own meager self in every regards, doth do with each utterance!

[Redacted for Reasons of Public Morals]

And these villagers doth act as if there is naught strange about savage orcs standing in their midst. Patrolling their streets . Training with their menfolk. Having their young priestess hugging Karg upon his return!

Are they perhaps under a spell? Bewitched by some strange orc power?

AM I THE ONLY SANE ONE LEFT?

Month of Nightal, 1353 Dale Reckoning

Karg has a castle, and is a powerful shaman with his own tower in this castle. With a Gnome Wizard and a Human Alchemist living there. And now Doctor Ned who is a powerful necromancer. With an army of orcs and goblins and kobolds and (probably evil) humans waiting below to make war upon the Uthgard savages. At least there mine heart cares little for the fate of those savages.

He hath given mine-self and Lua our own room, as he hath down for Doctor Ned and the Unfriendly Dwarf, and then for Etlin and his Luskan Harlots. Perhaps Karg hath done this to keep us close and then to [Redacted for Reasons of Public Morals] and then with his [Redacted for Reasons of Public Morals] on a [Redacted for Reasons of Public Morals]

On a leash and [Redacted for Reasons of Public Morals]

Lua hath said that this is not what Karg hath planned and that she and he had a long conversation about Gods and Philosophy. Philoshpy indeed! Lua hath been sway by Karg doing things to her things like [Redacted for Reasons of Public Morals]

Note

Okay it's been requested so I did up the short Tris interlude. No real story progression and semi-serious even if canon, the next POV will be of the army moving out. Anyone in particular people would like to see?

When: 1354 Dale Reckoning, Spring

Where: North-Eastern Edge of the Valley, Abandoned Village

Yes I've halted our glorious advance in the old village at the north overlook point in the valley. Partially because we left a little early than we needed too, partially because Old Breyjuk wanted to rest our force marched warriors, and from my point of view because I wanted to sort out a few loose ends here in the valley before we depart. All of this coming together in a wonderful symphony of whining and grumbling from the army while marching, and then slightly different flavoured whining and grumbling from having to build stuff when we're stopped. Thankfully it's nowhere as bad as I'd feared it'd be, only a few idiots having to be beaten into line and no one above squad level having any complaints, or issuing challenges. In the short run the plan for our march to point will be scout-move-fortify and this allows practice in establishing basic defences for a camp rapidly. Okay we're shocking slow compared to what I'd like, or what ancient human armies like Rome could pull off, but when relative to your standard orcish force we're bloody professional combat engineers.

In the long run it's because I want to cover this part of the valley from this vantage point. It'll admit it's not really my brilliant idea; much like Rose's village whoever was last settled here had fallen back to the 'hidden' areas against the hills before they were destroyed or driven off. So we're camping within the environs of the ruins and have restored a basic defensive barrier around it, and since we're staying a few days I'm renovating some of the sturdier ruins. More importantly I'm having watch towers built up on the heights that can be hidden behind the tree-line and the various shrubbery; we're going to leave behind about two squads worth, though their more hunters than anything. They can shelter in the caves above now that we've cleared them out of the previous inhabitants - a pack of wolves. For day to day they can scout and hunt, watch for dangers, and then they can be rotated by Zah during the summer or autumn. At least by covering these various spots to north and south it should make spotting adventuring bands easier than before, and hopefully give warning to the stronghold of them or larger dangers.

Other that our march so far has been relatively organised, fights and brawls have been kept to a minimum and no one has died amongst our vassal levies. A combination of harsh discipline on everyone (including them mind you) in the army, an unusually high number of lower level clerics for such a force, and of course setting a basic level of cleanliness like having latrines away from our water supply and boiling our water. Less of a problem for us orcs of course with our 'fuck-you-bacteria!' immune systems of course, but every little helps I find. Seven hell we'll just claim it's showing respect to the White Hands by following the methods of his Priesthood. Yes Priests of the Orc Disease God tend to be the best medical experts amongst us, as well as cleanest orcs weirdly enough. Other sorta good news is that Tris and Lua can follow Ghorza's orders without much issue, as can most of the levies under the officers. At least that's what their telling me and my warrior wife isn't complaining about them beyond the usual. This is good because I've a lot to juggle as the 'Logistics Officer' of this band of hungry mouth, and really don't want more dramas in my nearly non-existent not-working-time. Now I must go because sadly that higher up watch blind won't get itself built, nor will Rose get much value out of her training without a teacher.

When: Spring, 1354 DR

Where: Crags, Edge of the Neverwinter Woods

Bit of a problem, seems a bloody band elven nutters seem to be in this area. Haven't located them yet, or know the size, but they seemed to have wiped out a group of humans recently enough that they left one of their own dead behind at our approach. Missy has nothing but bad things to say about this lot, I'm sure I've heard of them before but can't place it but her opinion combined with Rose's wariness tells me this could be problematic.

On the bright side we're a fair distance now from Sparta, the plan is to link up with Darth Phargk's clan and those of the Moondblades a little south of here, so we're not the target it seems.

Old Breyjuk wants us to rest up here while we fortify and wait for the other two clans – we're near enough to the meeting spot and this is better ground than further in the forest. I tend to agree so we're making use of this lovely little hunting 'lodge' (read crudely built but large wooden building built into cave and rock overhang) for our headquarters. Nothing much of note inside of, just one or two personal letters that'll likely never be delivered to Lord Fostelbottom II about 'the mating habits of dire wolves' and 'located the cave of Wicked White Bear' whatever that is. Still have notified our guards to be watchful for dire wolves and white furred albino bears in the mean time.

Anyway, thank you dear departed hunters; your sacrifice is much appreciated and gets you a decent burial alongside prayers instead of into a cook-pot!

When: Spring, 1354 DR

Where: Same spot as before

Bloody bastard Elves, can't more than two dozen of the fuckers and yet we can't seem to pin them down. Nor get them to bugger off considering we're an army and they're not. I'll admit their not a danger to us as a force considering their size, but their harassment is a nuisance basically. Kobold scouts have at a few run ins with the pointy eared fucks and we've lost about a half-dozen of our soldiers between them and two of the human levies for only one of them. I'm not sure why their lingering near us, it seems rather suicidal on their part as the only reason we don't just sally out and butcher them is because it would be too bloody for us for nothing to gain chasing elves in trees. All I can say is that it's hammering home the discipline lessons of maintaining discipline and having our guard up constantly to our merry minions.

So for now Old Breyjuk and I have double watches maintained day and night, and our occasional hunting parties always have a full combat squad in support with them. Halting here has given me some time with Missy, Rose and my acolytes for some further training; I think I'm getting near a breakthrough on my arcane casting, while Rose is showing great progress between weapons handling and mixing it with general buffs. Much to Lua's chagrin I'll add as my petite little apprentice beat her in a practice spar this morning. Other than that my two Red Branch Knights are starting to get the hang of the blades, I had to experiment to figure out to activate its powers but lucky for them I'd already done that so I just had to teach them. Cuts the training time on the basics greatly I find even if their still far off the standard I'd like let alone my ability with it.

When: 1354 DR. Day 01-Operation Brutally Kill those Fucking Elves

Where: Operational HQ – A crappy hunting lodge

I've gods damned idea why those fuckwits are hanging around attack my soldiers but now they've really fucking angered me so more Mr. Nice Karguk. Those elven bastards went after Missy and Rose in particular for whatever insane reason went into their Legolas brains – because trying that required sidestepping a hunting squad and then doing a difficult climb to an over-watch point in the trees off to our east.

This was deliberate and also insanely nonsensical. Evidently these are insane elves who killing is the only way to stop their capital Stupid Darwin Award attempt. Because in an orcish army, filled with elf hating orcs, who you've managed to sneak a spot to shoot at...you start shooting arrows at the humans and half-elves present in the training ground?

Because that's the shmart thing ta do when youse a brainy elfy man, yessiree it is!

Missy is okay, arrows hit the wagon she was standing near, but Rose took one to her shoulder and it was bloody poisoned. Paise Ilneval that while I may not be the best healer - but between myself, Lua and Oggy's supplied acolytes we managed to heal up all the injured amongst those hit by arrows. I've put them under-watch with antidotes and healers on hand for the rest of the day just in case. Got two of the elves in exchange when they tried to withdraw, but lost one of my clan-orcs and two kobolds in exchange so between that and the injured I'm a very, very unhappy orc right now. We gave those fuckers plenty of time to slip away unmolested and my foolishness nearly got Rose killed by it. Still not going to plan while angry – leads to mistakes. So going to talk to Old Breyjuk and Ghorza now and see can we find a solution to this elf problem.

When: 1354 DR. Still Spring despite the snow flurry

Where: Crags/Neverwinter Woods

Okay that was sorta anti-climactic. We had this whole elaborate search and destroy mission planned out and started; involving selective fires been lit, magical detection and herding our quarry into a kill-zone near the hills to our east. And then the Moonblades turn up coming from the south and the elves pull a kamikaze attack on us just we get started on Operation Muderise Those Elves. Evidently they must have inadvertently trapped them between ourselves and the new arrivals or something because they came right at us, all eighteen of them versus our near thousand odd force. Oh they tried commando-ing into our camp but that failed horribly with our guard up and us not being lazy like many or clans. So they got to die swiftly. Too good for'em I say after the shit they pulled these past few days. Still their heads on pikes made everyone feel better, human levies included, so it's been a morale boost of sorts despite the blood they managed to spill.

Anyway unto more important matters; Moonblade clan has arrived in force as mentioned. As I expected they are a similar story to ourselves albeit greater in numbers of orcs. About six hundred orc warriors alongside about three hundred 'slave soldiers' and mercenaries; goblins been pressed along by (I assume) outcast or well paid hobgoblins and a few large bugbears. These and like night and day to our rather discipline levies, and sorta reminded me of a scene from an old film...Glory I think...but at least the orc warriors of their clan have some level of following orders to avoid trouble alongside fighting skill.

They brought slaves too to handle their logistics; light on oxen and horses used for their similar sized force of cavalry to ours. You'd be surprised to hear though they've actually less supplies and such carried with them despite larger numbers and slaves; everything's on the wagons with them unlike us, and slaves can only drag so much weight when not large humanoids. For now we're keeping their slaves clear of our levies, and keeping the coming marching order organised to avoid trouble. Though the Chief and Senior Warriors easily grasp the concept of staying the fuck away from our minions to avoid any problems in our nascent alliance; we don't interfere with their stuff and they don't with ours. Simple!

Phargk and his Night-tomb clan have differed off to link up with the Red Axe clan and about four to six days behind the Moonblades. We are to rally evidently at a point near that village Zah conquered last year so the plan is for us to move slowly towards that location and allow the other clans to catch up with us. All fine by me as I want to survey the land in depth and establish defensive position the event of betrayal or forced retreat later in the campaign. Hordes are not exactly known for their easy going nature, and we've already got a faction going amongst ourselves here of Sparta-Moondblade-Nightomb-RedAxe so who knows what nonsense anyone could pull on us. Best to be on guard at all times as the crazy elves proved.

Finally; Rose was fine and I was just worrying needlessly. So we're on the move, and just going to burn my house of the last few days to discourage crazy elves or human hunters setting up shop here again. A shame too, as it was a nice spot but Old Breyjuk is insistent. That and Ghoza just wants to watch it burn from boredom; my second wife really wants us to hurry up and get to the killing barbarians part. Sometimes I have to remind her that Ilneval wants us to plan stuff first (so we win) rather than rush in blades swinging. Now we march; for the Horde awaits and the bloodshed that follows.

[Krowluc 07]

Horde Camp, the Crags

'Oh Gods there's another one of them now, just the headache I needed!' Krowluc grumbled silently to himself as the current source of the small altercation earlier came before him. And, for a wonder considering the amorous nature of the 'dispute', it was not Bareyaras this time. He had learned his lesson back in the stronghold with that half-orc girl and the very unhappy orc male who'd been competing with the idiot for her affections even if he beaten the other idiot in a (mostly) bloodless fight. So maybe another few weeks before he or thieving Kyras caused another incident he as Captain would have to clean up the mess his idiots caused. No, evidently it was Egar, one of the human idiots among his riders who'd got into this idiocy. Krowluc stared down at his subordinate and ground out the obvious to get started in an annoyed yet curious tone.

"Really? Goblins?"

The human seemed to simultaneously flinch and blush "Ummm...ughh...uggh...it was an accident?"

Krowluc sighed and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. Oh Gods he really was another Bareyaras. Maybe he was some unknown by-blow of the idiot himself considering the age differences? "Oh how'd you manage that? You tripped and somehow managed to sheath your cock in that goblin idiot's sisters...or litter-mates, or whatever the fuck goblin chiefs sisters are called...because that'd be a feat to manage twice I'll say"

Because really how was this idiot to be bedding two goblin females, drink or no drink, because they horrid creatures in Krowluc's view. It was like bedding green-skinned ugly gnomes wasn't it? Gods at least it wasn't kobolds he supposed as female goblins at least looked somewhat short human or gnome-like...

Egar looked worried a moment then shrugged "Uh...uh...it just, well you let the squad have a few flagons since we arrived here and Boss Kyras gave me some booze and said some stuff and then...well, stuff happened?" he finished off looking at Krowluc almost questioningly. Mentally Krowluc made a journal entry to have words with Kyras later about this getting idiots drunk and then encouraging stupidity like this!

Krowluc growled and staring threatening at the idiot to reinforce some discipline as the others in the riders looked on "Stuff happened? Fuck boy control godsdamned self fer one minute! You've given me a fuckin' headache from those whiny like goblin bastards wanting to either stab you or some other bullshit! Stuff fuckin' happened my bollocks! Right you're on latrine and horse shit cleaning duty till I say fucking otherwise and you dont' go anywhere with two other riders..." he raised his voice to idiots around them pretending not to listen "...YOU LOT HEAR THAT? THIS LITTLE MORON TURNS UP DEAD YOU LOT ARE GONNA SUFFER FER IT!"

"RIGHT BOSS!" came back almost immediately, though it more amusement at the mortified human member of their small Company than any chance of letting those little shits injure one of their own. Stupid fucking human that he was regardless of Krowluc's orders; still he turned his attention back to the now pale-faced idiot...

"And you...just stay the fuck away from them two till Captain Ghorza and me can sort something out with that fuckwit goblin, likely either you getting more little long term lovers...that you'll keep in line or else...or we take your coin to fix this mess. Now get and wash down the gods-damned horses afore I punch you stupid face!" he finished with a roar as the shorter human scurried off to do just that to the jeers and whistles of the rest of the small cavalry band. Shaking his head in exasperation Krowluc reminded himself that, No, killing idiots for being idiots was not a good idea – because at the end of it he'd have no band of cavalry left at the end of it. Even if sometimes it seemed really appealing to opt for to save him all these little hassles. He glanced to his right...

"Dargunk, Merchan, your with me. Have to go see the Shaman"

Both fell in either side of him without complaint as he strode out from their rest area within the large sprawling camp that the growing orc horde had eked out here in the past few days. Or to be more accurate; four smaller camps formed up in a crude shape around a central area where the Chieftains and Shaman's were meeting. And also was an impromptu market/brawling area between the four currently arrived clans unofficially following on from that 'command area' role. It was easy enough to pick out the difference between the various clans he noted as he looked down the slope to where the camp was under construction while they waited for the other clans of the horde to arrive. His own employers, the Spartans, had taken the hilly slopes on the south-east portion of the overall camp, though at least having a flat enough area for him to rest his horses without issue. Though the descent wasn't exactly the most conductive to rapid movement, not without risking harming the mount in the process anyway.

Still his new Bosses part of the camp was a surprisingly orderly and well fortified position. Especially compared to the sprawling layout of the other three clans, even the Moonblades more well armed and organised mercenaries in background lacked the effort put into this spot. Even as he passed dozen of human levies were busy cutting logs to reinforce the 'inner' walls of the camp, and likely to help create crude shelters for themselves as well. Much like with the orcs further down the slope, or the insanely industrious kobolds digging into the hillside a few hundred metres to his rear. Heh...it was good to be the cavalry it seemed as they'd gotten roughly built stables, and shelter for themselves as well, before many of the others within the 'auxlia' as they called it or even the clan warriors themselves. Much like in the previous stops it seemed the Shaman and old Clan-chief seemed to favour watchtowers, defensive emplacements and spots for these 'Hwachas' and 'Ballistae' of theirs.

'Well it worked against those crazy elves. What were they thinking?' he idly wondered as he passed a group of kobolds busily digging trenches of some sort, while behind them big burly orc warriors were chopping and sawing at some freshly logged trees for whatever purpose. It was nice to work with someone that a professional approach to warfare; nice secure field fortifications at least made the chance of him been woken to an enemy force rampaging right into the middle of the camp nice and low. Because damn if he hadn't seen large barbarian forces, either orc, goblin or human, sent fleeing by smaller but well disciplined and armed adventuring bands because nothing stopped them marching into the camp without impediment. And he himself had no desire to be on the other end of such a cavalry charge right into the tents of him and those around him.

On the right flank of the Spartan camp, down on the lower part of the slope, was the Moonblades camp with a similar approach to here despite the greater sprawl inside. Already a outline of a basic wall of logs jutting outwards was taking shape; pretty bad really considering their greater numbers to this camp and its two 'lines' of more solid seeming defences. Still it was a vast improvement on their part over the still larger Red Axe clan on the more exposed ground on his left flank. The whole thing there appearing less an organised camp than a series of large clumps based around a rapidly growing number of campfires as the evening turned to night and the cold grew as the moon rose. Beyond them on the 'opposite' side to his employer's camp lay the Night-tomb clan. Creep buggers all in all Krowluc found, but they we're at least following some kind of defensive order by evidently setting up multiple traps around their side of the hills, along with busily burying into the ground and camouflaging their true strength.

The guards at the lower level let him throught without issue, pointing him in the direction the Shaman's tent where a few minutes later he stood before the tired looking, and chainmal clad, shaman-wizard and his personal guard; Human slave-wizard and pretty, the petite and also dangerous little cleric in tow as usual. He glanced at Krowluc as he and his two riders entered "Ah, Krowluc...right...good, we need you for a job I'm afraid...sigh...first are you and your riders settled in?"

"Yes Shaman, we've camped just at the edge of that small cave and the kobolds got a rough stable area established...bit of trouble with the goblins, but nothing serious and it's under control"

"Right, get Ghorza if it persists. I don't want troubles inside the camp, headaches enough organising this as is without that on my plate. Right...we'll want you and your cavalry for a mission tomorrow. Mixed group, of yourselves, some Red Axe's and Moonblade's, with about hundred odd in total"

"What's the job?"

"Possible Uthgard scouts, or adventurers, or a caravan; we don't know what exactly. All that came back is that Red Axe scouts saw signs of them out on the flat ground to our south-east and the others want to investigate. I tend to agree that it's best to nip any danger in the bud. At least if there is danger, could be nothing, but after those bloody elves not taking any chances"

Krowluc nodded as the petite red haired human girl across from them flinched ever so faintly and touched her shoulder "And sending the horse? Quick withdrawal if things aren't what they seem?"

Shaman Karguk nodded pointing at a crudely drawn map laid out on the table before them where a number of coins and other markers had been placed "Yeah this is just recon, don't risk battle unless you've overwhelming strength and don't get killed most importantly. What I want is a survey of the land few days to our south and east, and also try get an idea for the quality of the other clan's horse-orcs, that acceptable?"

He nodded obediently "Yes Shaman Karguk, who will be in charge?"

"Technically whoever the Red Axe sends as they're the largest part, but don't follow any stupid orders that'll get you and your boys killed. The Red Axes may think A Hack, A Slash and Fine Brave Death are perfectly good ideas for strategy and tactics but I do not. Scout for threats, ambush if you need be, and keep your guard up at all times. Prioritise you and your riders safety over looting and combat"

'Can live with that' Krowluc figured as he nodded back in reply. After all it was always good to be given reasonable orders, and then told getting out alive was preferred by your employers over some mad death and glory in battle theme. Which was disturbingly common amongst the more traditional and conservative side of his orcish blood relations. Still he listened as the Shaman began to go into more detail in regards what the scouts had reported, before being interrupted, and then dismissed, as another orc arrived in seeking for some other issue to resolved by the Shaman...

When: 1354 DR, Mid-Late Spring

Where: Edge of the Crags, Neverwinter Woods, Plains - I think we're somewhere south-west of Morgurs Mound

Well we're here, though can't say I'm overly happy with our positioning. Oh not necessarily the setup of our camp; I'm content enough with that as our section of the camp is reasonably well fortified now and we've got access to some water from a spring the flows down the hill. I suspect if we followed the flow it'd likely be one of the dozens of small streams that eventually merge into the Neverwinter River. Still idle speculation on water aside we've got a decent enough position, we're well dug in, there's water, plenty of game so our supplies can be extended somewhat over planned and the horde overall continues to grow at a shockingly fast pace as the other clans arrive.

Chief Wyrmog and his band of berserker furries arrived today for instance with a half-dozen Fire Giants in tow. Not sure if should be happy at having their support or stressing out over how to defeat them if they turn on us. Yes possible paranoia I'll admit, but this is a death world where dragon attacks could occur so preparing for insane things tends to be a good idea. Well so much as one can – our anti-dragon plan is little more than fire the Hwacha and arrows at it, prevent the kobolds from killing us while we kill them when they turn, and then split up in penny packets to easily avoid detection. Truly I am a master tactician and strategist when my 'plan' to such things is "Oh Crap. Run Away!"

Sarcasm aside something just depress me at their threat level versus our power level. Or my own personally as Shaman Phargk largely proves to me with his abilities and presence. Or Wyrmog with his host of inbuilt physical buffs and magic he got off killing someone most likely. I have thread carefully here of course, as does Old Breyjuk and the clan itself, as there are several very individually powerful warriors or shamans here who could likely solo me and my guards. Missy, Rose and my two new Red Branch Knights included with my standard escort.

Thankfully there more fixated on each other than on me; we're smaller in number than several clans, with non-orcs making up numbers, so we're being badly underestimated by a few of the clans as best I can tell. But as said this place is rife with tension and factions, not just of clans with grievances with each other but with said powerful warriors and shamans jockeying for power. Most particularly between Darth Phargk whose the Horde Shaman, and Wyrmog the Furry Lunatic whose our Warlord in the often seen clash of Church and State. Or an old powerful cleric with ambitions now clashing with an ambitious and ruthless clan chief who rules his own clan with a steel gauntleted fist and used to being the Big Dog of every meeting.

Yeah I'm supporting the dangerous old shaman of the One-Eye in this matter. Like in all politics it's hardly the ideal choice, but there's never the perfect choice in the real world is there?

No with Phargk have the capacity to have some measure of influence within the Horde, and develop my powers further of course, while with the Berzerker Warlord...less so. Of course that excludes all the other clashes and petty politics going on that I don't know about beyond some rumours and guesstimates – this place may not be a power-keg but it is certainly filled with barbarian yet byzantine politics.

This is less an army than a collection of drunken mobs someone managed to get and moving in the same direction. As such our linking up with the Moonblades and Night-tombs is as much a matter of similarity in fighting style as flipping a coin for choosing allies. We can be classified as 'Fighter' type clans while the others around Wyrmog could be called 'Barbarian' types. That's a bit simplistic I'll admit, more of a generalisation as every clan (except Sparta really) has a mixture of frothing barbarian orcs and a few more disciplined warriors. It's just...so disorganised. That annoys and worries me, though at least our enemies have the same structure by-and-large. So there's that I suppose.

In the relation to the enemy, or enemies, we've seen only a few scattered scouts for now and a brief clash between a force of cavalry we sent out and a small band of Uthgarder horse. Problematically there wasn't much information received from the engagement. Two of the barbarians were killed but we don't even know what tribe they were and who exactly we're facing at the moment. Because I'm concerned about certain things; the Elk Tribe by now should have headed back across the Spine to the North, so I'd expect these to be either Sky Pony or Thunderbeast.

I know a decent amount about the first from the 'Holy Books' of course, but little of the second beyond their the most organised and they're nearest to Morgur's Mound around now. Or is it the Werewolves – because that could be a serious problem come the Full Moon and Wyrmog obviously got his werewolf skin pelt from somewhere 'near' in relative terms. Now we have some magical weapons, as well as a few silver ones, but it's a variable I don't like having in the background. Or just not knowing. Because something has been bugging me since we've arrive – which tribe has been raising demons?

As the modus operandi (oh I love you big terms that my clan-brothers never use) seems very much at odds with things I'm being told by the likes of Krowluc and others with such knowledge of the region. There are one or two who would – but they should be in the North, or the High Forest right now to my knowledge. Have my actions changed things?

Butterfly effect and all that?

I've bounced the issue off Missy and Rose to some degree; at least with a select amount of information and not the prophet of bad things to come. Ghorza too but my second wife is very much religiously inclined and takes the Boss's warning seriously – but in a metaphorical rather than strategic or tactical danger. When the Boss orders me to Survive he is not declaring me his favourite but rather giving a heads up to a disasterous situation. The Boss rarely gives you more than you need to achieve the mission after all – the 'reward' comes first. If that's what warning and blessing were as I expect.

I'll admit I must sound strange discussing strategy with not just my Chief and Wife but also with a slave, and my technical hostage. But different opinions help because it's easy to overlook things. Potentially fatal things and I don't want that. I just have to remember everyone's own personal self-interest in the matters being discussed. That and it's calmed Missy somewhat by being 'in-the-know' so to speak – frankly she's being offering herself to me even if I'm pretending not to notice for now.

Plus the genuine fact I'm mentally exhausted right now after each day of politicking and logistics. Cuz that what the Priests of Ilneval are to Hordes in general; the officers who organise this mobile mob of drunken violent lunatics out for blood-soaked party or looting session. Other than that I need to get Lua's and Tris's opinions on how things are progressing with the human levies, and that everything is okay for them. And talk, just talk. Gods I need a break from strategy, logistics, learning magic after that, constant watching my back and the clans.

Anyway must rest, sleepy-time now.

When: Spring in the Year of 1354 DR

Where: Horde Base Camp. Or That Place with Lots of Violence and Smells Shit

Fairly significant outbreak of inter-clan violence today, between the newly arrived Icepeak clan and the Red Axe's under our own clan's nominal ally Chief Kurnak, though still not sure what kicked this one off. Suffice to say it was more an all out battle between two groups of several dozen warriors on each side than the usual small fights and resulting deaths. About twenty dead this time, and twice that injured between them and some bystanders who 'wanted a good fight' and got involved. I'd like to say I'm surprised about that but with people I'm sadly not.

Still between me and a half-dozen other of the higher ups (plus our various escorts obviously enough) managed to get the whole thing clamped down on before it turned into an even larger battle between the reinforcements arriving from both grounds. Because this is why we can't have nice things I'm afraid. As to fallout; there's obviously tension between the Rex Axes and Icepeak clan-orcs after it, but then again there was already tension that led to said outbreak. So in that regards not much change in real terms, beyond everyone likely worrying if this was factional clashes for leadership rather than just the fact they hate each other. I think it's more they hate each other than just politicking, but then ambition and hating the other guy could be basically the same thing really in context.

There's little myself, Ghorza or Old Breyjuk can do, at least more than we've already setup, in regards ourselves and handling such incidents. Our auxilia are already largely confined to our part of the camp, and any trips out are with clan-orcs in support. It's similar with our clan warriors and myself – we already enter the 'joint market/command area' part of the overall camp in at least squad strength, or like myself and Old Breyjuk with full escorts as mentioned before. We've been permanently on guard since being here, so how you be 'more' on guard when we're ready for betrayal at any moment from the other clans?

Honestly not sure, but I'll think on it. Because really it's not going to get any better because it's not just clans here, there's hundreds of orcs trickling into the camp in dribs and drabs who've no real clan per se for whatever reasons ranging from proto-adventurers to simple outcasts. Though I can't complain about or be a huge hypocrite considering a few dozen of our newest clan members came from the exact same manner. The only difference being that we're not exactly drawing many (or any of yet) of those starting to flock in for the chance at loot and battle. It's unsurprisingly really (albeit annoying) considering we are a minor or middling clan of upstarts compared to the bigger, more powerful, ones like Red Axe or Chief Wyrmog's clan of crazy-ass berserker furries. That and our clan is visibly alot of work in comparison; there's rather gruelling training every day, discipline is harsh, you have to work with non-orcs without killing out of hand and of course they have to work under 'the crazy shaman' ie me.

When in the other clans you largely get to lounge around all day if you're strong enough to beat others up to get some respect, and even if you're not the expectations for actual work quite low while that for perceived rewards are relatively high. I say perceived because personally I think we're alot more 'democratic' with our loot, or at least I try to be as in reality it's like a tax in most tribal societies. And by tax I mean most everything important flows to the higher ups in the clan and those on the bottom get very little, unless their unusually strong and get bribed. Essential the strongest gets to sit on his throne and everyone else pays tribute to them; or at least in the most dictatorial of the clans. With us I've convinced the others that 're-investing' our best gear and loot into the clan pays off in the long run. Hell in the short run as there's a sort of standard base line for the quality of our fighters gear. Still many orcs see themselves as future lord of whatever and aren't given a chance to see alternative means so perhaps it's that?

Who knows, have work to do now.

When: Late Spring 1354 DR

Where: Horde Base Camp.

Clashes at the fringes of our scouting range with a group of murder-hobos sounds like, that and with Utgarders as well. It's hard to know as these weren't our scouts rather from the Moonblades and Bearclaws respectively – adventurers cut through the Moonblade patrol and send the survivors retreating back to camp, while the Bearclaws wiped out a small group of a dozen Uthgard Barbarians. Not exactly positive, as I still don't know what Uthgard Tribe we're up against because Wyrmog's lunatics couldn't care less about such things, and an adventuring group of unknown strength is never a good thing to have around when a Horde is forming. To be on the safe side I'm having regular efforts made to watch for infiltration like myself in human lands – I really don't want to find out we're in the Sons of Gruumsh plotline here.

I know it's the wrong place but the settings too similar for my liking. Even then murder-hobos presence in general is a problem depending on how strong they are because powerful wizards, clerics or druids could be quite the danger. Or thieves or assassins sneaking in and trying to murder someone. Still we aren't some bog-standard hill clan whose idea of 'guard duty' is two idiots sleeping on watch and our camp is laid out to make such attempts difficult as possible. Mostly due to our allied clans I'll admit, but same difference really if things go hostile. To be on the safe side we'll be running the odd extra 'up and fight NOW!' drill in the next few weeks to keep everyone on their toes, that and doubling up on watch patrols. Yes they all whine and hate it, but there is a reward system so that shuts them up at least. Kinda have to considering the harsh punishments for dereliction of duty. Anyway, have to sign off and meet with my 'Mentor' of sorts in regards more plotting and figuring out the extent of his power and what I can learn or incorporate. Slan go foil.

When: 1354 Dale Reckoning, been a few days since last entry no sure how many exactly

Where: A muddy dump that smells alot

Honestly it's frustrating being stuck here for weeks on end and still seeing no sign of movement from our erstwhile doom-stack of thousands of warriors. Thing is organising and coordinating such large numbers, of disparate clans that are often at odds with each other, is an incredibly frustrating and disorganised affair filled with fights, feasting and overall madness and chaos. For instance the camp continues to sprawl ever more, and hunting groups have to push out further each day to get a decent return on their efforts. The heavy rain and mist of the past few days hasn't helped with – the ground is turning into a morass fairly swiftly so that's not ideal for many things, swift movement included.

WE at least have enough supplies to last out a significant period of time, as do most clans in their own ways, but one or two groups don't and getting caught stealing supplies is basically a death sentence. Even with ourselves as we're a target due to said better logistics – still all it's led to is a half-dozen corpses of other clan's thieves outside our 'base' part of the camp warning of what happens to those who try rob us. Has to be done, tribal society I'm afraid so harsh and ruthless strength is all others understand. Show weakness and they'd swarm us as an easy mark rather than risk challenging the other clans for their supplies. Well we're not going to be an easy mark for anything as myself and Old Breyjuk are perfectly willing to show them. Cruel to be kind and all that nonsense.

When: 1354 DR, Late Spring-Summer

Where: Edge of the Crags, Plains and Wood, etc, etc

Problems always problems, though fuck them is all I'll say. Nobody but nobody attacks my clan and gets away with it. Because fuck them and the horse they rode in on.

Earlier today, well last night, a group of the Blood Mist clan attack one of my squads. Yeah blah, blah, blah, they claim it was something else but they attacked my boys and tried to rob them because they outnumbered them. This shits being happening way too much but it's the first time it's affected us in this manner. Whatever the case those bastards managed to kill three of the squad by surprise before it turned into a general melee between them, and other unrelated parties who jumped in.

Unfortunately for them myself with my escort, and the rapid response squad from the camp were within easy running distance. Also unfortunately for out merry band of would be thieves and murders – well my clan members are drilled everyday and then have teamwork beaten into them from the start. So when you put squad level formations of such up against a slightly greater number of barbarians unused to fighting as an organised whole...

We slaughtered every single one of the fuckers that didn't manage to escape from the area for the loss of two more of our own. Missy played a very useful role in suppressing our suddenly unhappy foe by setting a cluster of them on fire in conjunction with myself and one of my Red Branch Knights, Hreshgk – we left forty to fifty death before the other clan shamans arrived and 'talked me down'. Threatened me and Breyjuk the bastards did...but now my rage has dampened from the rain I fully understand the reaction to avoid the whole thing turning into a major headache of an active clan feud. It's the Red Axes-Icepeaks thing again just my lot being personally involved.

Still I think a message has been sent, because if this happens again then the next group's bodies will join those nailed to our palisade walls right. The clan and auxlia agree with me and Old Breyjuk and morale is high despite the shitty weather. At least that's what Ghorza tell me in her ever cheerfulness at the bloodshed we unleashed in the morning. I'll talk to Lua and see what she and Tris are hearing from the human auxlia. Then we can get back to handling the fact more scout clashes are taking place on the fridges of the scouting patrols. First though I need to talk to Phargk and ensure there aren't anymore incidents like today - or if it was an attack aimed at pulling in ME and my escort and misjudging the strength.

Note to self: double personal guard. Use Lua's and Tris's squad as the other clans totally underestimate our auxlia and I know their fighting abilities from travel.

When: Late Spring 1354 Dale Reckoning

Where: Horde Base Camp

Our stock within the overall horde camp has risen somewhat since our incident with the Blood Mists a few days ago. Well once we got beyond avoiding an all out battle between ourselves and said bunch of would be robbers of course, but that's just par for the course in this so-called 'army' I find. Still it's not all positive as we appear to have offended our glorious lunatic of a Warlord in butchering all the morons of one of his sunshine-happy-asskisser clans and growing tension between Wyrmog and Darth Phargk our getting this bloody show on the road. Something I'd like to do soon, but am also wary of as well owing to the chaos of actually starting said movement.

Because numbers are still trickling in each day and the weather still isn't great with the mixture of rain, mist and occasional snow flurry. Not that our clan has benefited much as yet from these new arrivals, though the incident with the Blood Mists might change that as word spreads to them. So from Wyrmog's position waiting somewhat longer makes sense as his ranks grow with each passing day, as do those of the other larger clans, as proving yourself in battle is one way to get into them and work up the ranks. What bothers me though is the lack of scouting and organised structures behind this expedition. I admit much of the problem in my opinion is my own lack of influence in the process. What can I say but I can be a know-it-all Orc and its frustrating to see others do things I see as flawed in my view.

Still we're making use of the time as best we can – we've deepened our alliance with the Red Axes and Moonblades somewhat in the past weeks. I'm wary of teaching them our methods but the Moonblades do have useful things to teach our lot Old Breyjuk says so we've started training with them regularly since two days after the Blood Mists incident. Coincidence?

No, of course not; but understandable from their point of view as we're an unproven upstart clan while they're a much larger clan with methods and tactics learned over time with blood and steel. Useful things like tactics and methods used against organised human soldiery and development on skills I know in theory from various historical sources but not in practice beyond the ad-hoc methodologies we've created in the past half-decade. For the moment the handful of joint training sessions has been beneficial everyone in the clan tells me. Or at least my clan-orcs do; the auxlia training is still with my own clan and not anyone else. They're grumbling enough with our stepping up training and exercise routines for them since the incident, but if we're gonna be stuck here longer than expected then it's just more time to whip our small part of the army into the best in can be what with Uthardgers and murder-hobos running around out there.

When: 1354DR Late Spring

Where: Horde Base Camp

A breakthrough of sorts!

Or at least in terms of my arcane magic casting abilities, with me finally managing a small repertoire of spells other than what I refer to as 1st Level ones. I'll freely admit my abilities are a bit unbalanced when I say that. Mostly due to focus on what combat based spells that Missy could drill into my thick head and my own personal obsession with the field of abjuration and stopping things being done to me with magic. I'd reward Missy if I could for the hard-work, but beyond an extra few rest periods and some of the better cooked food there isn't much out here I can offer for that beyond praise on my part. Still she seems happen enough with that to my surprise so hurrah for that I guess.

Beyond that considering the inability to get our Glorious Chief of the Furry Fucks who is also our Chief Warlord I've focused on learning whatever I can to strengthen my own abilities in the next few weeks. Till whenever this camp of horrid smells and mud is left behind us at least. Mostly because of all the logistic work for ourselves has been down, as has that can be down between ourselves and our 'allies' of sorts such as Chiefs Kurnak, the Moonblades Mernash, and of course Darth Phargk himself. Learning from him...is unsettling let's say and we'll leave it at that. I suppose that's one benefit of not being the advisory council beyond giving our own clans positions and threatening those who might oppose us and aren't too strong for us to do said threatening.

So I'm on a fairly rigorous training programme for the next few weeks looks like, just as the rest of our camp is so that's only fair despite my desire to laze and not trudge through the muck all day and night. But what we want and what keeps us alive are two very different things on this death world I'm afraid. It's fucking exhausting but unfit orcs are dead orcs often enough so I'm taking my 'mentoring' from the Old Terror seriously to maintain our alliance as well as expand my knowledge base. It also lets me teach Rose at the same time so Darth Phargk is helping me in some ways unintentionally by furthering my own apprentice's training...and showing her just how dangerous certain foes can be.

Plus how you need to keep them onside as allies even as you watch for betrayal of course - that helps too. Then its blade-work with Ghorza, and not innuendo or puns, my second wife is a rather vicious orc with a sword and does not hold back her punches thanks to healing. Hurts like a bitch let me tell you. Missy of course is back to being my full time wizarding teacher and full time personal-assistant. And then Lua and Tris with their squad of villagers for further training/philosophical discussion during the break periods. Its funny how even writing this is merely an excuse to take a break from this schedule. Unlike the rest of the Horde Camp ours is a complete beehive of activity ever minute, day or night, thanks to all this. What was I heard in my past life? Their practices were bloodless battle and their battles bloody practice or something like that. When the hammer falls I want my boys to be as ready as they can be.

When: Spring-verging on Summer 1354DR

Where: Still in this gods-damned camp.

Why the fuck are we still here? And why are we allowing this situation of clashes without knowledge to persist?

Mostly because Wyrmog could personally kill a dozen orcs easily let alone in one on one, and from the fact he seems to intend on getting the Uthgards to come us before we move to engage. Something I'd normally agree with but there is nowhere near enough information collection going on, or any sort of battle plan beyond Fight-Burn-Kill when the enemy host comes against us. It's worrying me because scout clashes are increasing day by, and certain patrols have not returned either with us still not knowing what's out there, or even which tribe we're facing.

Darth Phargk happens to agree with as does Old Breyjuk and Chief Kurnak of the Red Axes, but there's little that can be done other than embarking off on our own – which is a terrible idea in my view anyway so here we stay. Training and training while other clans get increasingly restless and younger warriors clash in the camp on a daily basis. Well...not with my clans boys, or with the Moonblades now either, as discipline and willingness to brutally implement your rules tends to discourage even bored younger warriors from fucking with us. That and we've largely established an almost town of our own on these slopes and Phargks Night-tombs and the Moonblades have been quite happy to follow sort of compromise rules to maintain order in that zone. We have latrines, clean water, organised food ration and a host of other things being kept working by smashing down on those challenging these rules with an iron fist.

Anyway must go now, Rose is gazing at me and I know she wants get her training started for today. Slan go foil a chara.

When: Late Spring? 1354DR

Where: Horde Base – maybe soon to be battlefield?

Even if we haven't moved it seems the Uthgarders have had plenty of time to get themselves organised and form up their own horde. Or at least it seems so from Krowluc's report earlier today. I'd gotten sick of this constant clashing on the fringes of our hunting between scouting groups – so I've canvassing the various other clans that are either allied with us, or on a semi-friendly basis, to investigate with a recon-in-force using our sparse cavalry. A risk of course, but one a decent enough group of us agreed to take; so our thirty odd joined about a hundred and twenty or thirty others a week ago for a exploration unto the plains to the east. And what did they find but a very large camp like our own forming off in the distance, but they got spotted before getting a close look so the exact size is unknown.

Beyond 'as big as' here or 'bigger than here' depending on the various riders, which is hardly helpful I find, because what do I know. Because now our giant ass Warlord and his posse want to march out and smash the humans – or to be more accurate he wants to descend unto the plains and forest to the east of here and lure the Uthgarders into battle there. It's not a bad plan I'll admit, but it's something that suits the berserker charge rather than the organised disciplined battle plan I'd prefer just like the rest of my clan, and possibly a handful of the others. But still it's the standard orcish battle plan (and Uthgarder one too frankly) of charge, charge and keeping charging till someone breaks or runs out of troops. Then again I'm not Zah so I'm not at the level of such a fight or such an aggressive mobile battle – I'm a defensive battle commander and never more than a few hundred orcs at the same time till now. Lure enemy in and fight pre-prepared to inflict maximum casualties on them.

Whatever the case we'll be on the move shortly, so may Ilnevel bless us in this endeavor.

[Karguk 26]

The Field of Blood

Noise was everywhere as our great host moved towards our foe. Thousands upon thousands of feet in motion at the same time mixing with the roars of chiefs, shamans and senior warriors as we moved through the cold wet mist that had descended early this morning and now hid the sun from our orcish eyes. Unfortunately it also had the effect of obscuring anything beyond a relatively short distance from my eyes and that was not helping with my stress levels right now. After all this was less the march forward to battle of an army than a number of clumps of warriors moving in only what could be called the barest semblance of an advancing and organised battle-line. That and this whole thing was making me uneasy now we were on the move and received our 'battle plan' from Our Ever-fucking-Glorious Warlord, Chief Wyrmog of the Bearclaws.

'That's just nerves you idiot! Focus on your job now!' I reminded myself glancing to my left and judging the movement speed of the Moonblades on that flank, then at Old Breyjuk's forward marching cohort. There was nothing to our right flank – we were the end of the line for today's battle it seemed. Which was not exactly ideal to be entirely honest, in more ways than one, but I wasn't in a position to complain right now. We were starting to descend the slope of this hill a bit more than I'd like, so I turned to Old Breyjuk and Ghorza who were observing on my other side as well and motioned vaguely forward with my free hand.

"I think we should halt here. It's decent enough ground to slow a charge at us and we're probably further forward than Wyrmogs lot. Maybe, but still this either the last hill or the second last hill till open plains and don't think it'll get any better that'a'ways lets say"

"Hhharrr...yah Shaman it might be for the best to remain on higher ground but we must get those to our flank to agree...Runner! Go to the Moonblades now and tell them we plan to halt!"

"Yes my Chief!" the younger orc replied energetically before dashing off to my left as I and the others began shouting out orders to halt our forward march, either temporally or till the battle truly started. Still halting the forward momentum of a thousand people, orc, human, goblin and kobold, was no easy thing and that was with an actual cohort command structure and iron discipline from the past few short years of training. I dread to imagine trying to control the whole horde of over ten thousand orcs. All of whom were making their own decisions just like we were right now within the overall (and vague) battle-plan given to us.

Not that we'd been given much of a role beyond 'take up position on the right flank and don't break and run' evidently. Hard to gain glory and loot while being a coin flip between missing the fighting or taking the brunt of an enemy charge if they came in on that flank. In a way it made sense – us and the Moonblade Clan were the better defensive infantry of the Horde so the flank was the logical place for us. Didn't mean I had to like it though. Loud, albeit garbled, shouting to our flank in orcish along with the sound of drum beats indicated that Mooblades appeared to be doing the same as ourselves and halting the forward motion while signalling to the other clans the intent. I glanced back at my Chief as our various cohorts came to a stop around us and the officers and sub-officers roars died down.

"Well my Chief, how do you want to play this?"

He was surveying the terrain before us and into the distance, or at least as much as the misty drizzle allowed, as he replied "Assuming the other clans don't protest our stopping Shaman then we form a rough triangle. My squad shall take the front, while yours will be to its left rear and the...vassal...warriors to the right rear under you Ghorza..." he nodded to my second wife, then glanced back at me "...yes they are weaker than orcs but best to keep them apart from the others with the fight to come. Shaman you are the reserve in case these feral humans throw demons or magic at us"

I nodded "Understood, just note in this weather the Hwacha and Ballista are gonna be a bitch to aim once we set them up. Also, goblins forward skirmish line?"

"Yes, and we'll have the kobolds throw up the wooden spikes you had prepared once we know we are to stay. By the sounds I'd say the humans are still a distance away, at least their main force judging by that noise in the distance"

I nodded again, glancing back at Missy and Rose who stood nearby alongside my person squad and the two heavy-plate clad Red Branch Knights with their blades that matched my own. You couldn't move an army of thousands silently and now that Old Beyjuk mentioned it I could hear a weird faint howling and maybe the beat of different drums off in the distance now I'd turned my ear towards it. Both Rose and Missy stood in their respective armours appearing calm to my eye; Rose kitted out in the hybrid plate-mail with all its enchantments with mace at the ready, while beside her had the light armour that didn't impede movements needed for spell-casting. Something I'd struggled with considering my need to wear decent armour by and large – though she had told me I seemed to unintentionally developing habits in casting due to said armour wearing. As long as it worked we'll just call it Armoured Arcane skills.

"And when the feral humans come? I fight first with my humans and Karg stays in reserve?" Ghorza queried from beside me in a cheerful tone. Her blood was up with battle on the horizon and having been trapped in the camp now for a season now. The chance for inflicting violence on our clan's enemies, even with the fact she was in charge of non-orc soldiery to have to do it. Old Breyjuk frowned glancing in the direction of the Moonblades as a rider at a trot approached in the distance seemingly with a reply.

"Yes, for now...if they come in force at least, Shaman you will hold back till I order you otherwise"

I frowned. Well I could guess what this was about the underlying reason for this "My Chief?"

"You said that your...mentor of sorts was unhappy?"

"Yes my Chief, didn't say why but there was something there to cause him anger beneath the surface..." hard to miss really after these weeks with nasty old bastard "...as, well, as like the same reasons as you and me I'd expect my Chief"

Because what our 'Glorious Warlord and Chieftain of the Furry Lunatics' considered a good battle strategy was not what we'd consider one in the least. My clan had been pushed to extreme fringes of the battle-line, and we were known (as much as we were known at all) as being pretty much an effective force for fighting things such as demons and magical creatures. Things that might be thrown at us be the demon summoning enemy we were about to come up against in short. But even more problematically the likes of Darth Phargk and the other shamans aligned with him had been also pushed to the flanks – the Moonblades on our immediate flank while Phargk himself and his Night-tombs shunted off to the far flank with other strong shamans.

In the centre then stood Warlord Wyrmog himself stood with his Bearclaw furriess, allied lesser clans, the Icepeaks, and too my surprise, Chief Kurnaks Red Axes. Oh and his dozen or so allied fire giants of course, I'll give him that as they were bloody well armoured and armed. But none of those clans really possessed much in the way of powerful (or alternatively numerous) shamans geared for this sort of fight, beyond the Icepeaks perhaps, and as such Wyrmog's confidence in the coming battle was...unsettling. While the current weather and timing of the move forward could be argued to stand in his favour; the overcast skies and rolling mist worked in the favour of our orcish eyes – the Uthgard tribals would be forced to fight by culture and then the clock would be ticking to nightfall and our sight advantage. Either for a retreat for us, or for crushing them as our advantages grew and theirs lessened. But when one thought on...

"Yes Shaman, indeed that is my concern – keep your acolytes at the ready, but may need them if we need to...move swiftly. My cohort will attempt to face the main of any enemy charge, the auxlia at an angle and in support. You will also ensure they do not break..." he told us then raised a hand to end any debate as the rider trotted awkwardly near. For the moment our scant cavalry was being held back in reserve under Krowluc and not being dispersed for such roles. Runners did just fine for now, and with Phargk there were magical means if pressured "...Oi you bringin your Clan-Chief's answer?"

The young chainmail clad rider halted, one of their shaman's sons I vaguely recalled from one of the meetings a few weeks prior "Aye Chief and Shaman of Sparta, me Chieftain agrees that ya are right to halt here as others are planning to halt soon he wishes you know further up the line. We gonna advance a short distance further and link up with the forward part of your line"

Old Breyjuk glanced at me and I nodded in silent agreement. That just meant we'd have to angle our line to our sides down the rougher part of the hilly area and let the Moonblades handle their side. And at least there would be a continuous line between our two clans unlike what I suspected was happening all the rest of the way along the line of battle. Sadly I didn't have an aerial view to confirm but I strongly suspected by the time the battle started truly our horde would look like clumps of ants either bulging forward or backwards in an odd shape rather than a roughly straight line. At least we'd have the downhill charge advantage I suppose when the Uthgarders drove through our skirmish line. Well...for the centre at least; we were charging down unless the Moonblades were for fear we'd be taken in the flank. Old Breyjuk nodded.

"Good, my warriors look forward to drawing the blood this day! Warn your Chief that our minion goblins and kobolds and humans will be near us and not to try slaying them in the coming bloodshed. For now they'll be starting to layout wooden spikes and coming up these hills, and marking out distances for our archers"

"Aye Chief Breyjuk of Sparta, is there any other words you wan' me tell me Chief?"

I interjected as Old Breyjuk waved a gauntleted hand towards me in query "Warn him to beware any magic of our foes, and if any abominations or such appear to send word to us. Your father and I have discussed it as we did with your Chief"

The young horse-orc nodded in understanding "Aye me Da warned me Shaman Karguk ah Sparta, any things appear he'll send me or one de others to gather yer magics to drive'm off"

As he turned and trotted his horse back towards his clan Old Breyjuk turned back towards myself and Ghorza "Shaman while me and your mate organise our cohorts and field fort-ific-ations readied you will make sure the wagons are secured and these weapons of yours emplaced. Prepare whatever rituals you need to and bless us for battle"

I nodded. Unlike what I'd thought in my past life the fact was a medieval battlefield was as much a pageant and show at times than simply pointing your units at the enemy and hoping for the best. Especially with my methods of discipline making preparations pay off in the long run. No the next hour would be a matter organising the 'rear area' to ensure everyone was in position, leading the chants and battle songs. Along with the drum and pipes that were beating and shrieking off in the distance in the basic means of command and control alongside runners and riders. Still spell-song had tangible effects if you infused them with magic so it wasn't just for the reasons on ancient earth. Whatever the case Missy and Rose, along with nine guards fell in beside me as I headed through the drizzle and mist to where the oxen drawn wagons were halting alongside our small cavalry force...

[Lua'Kah'wyss 05]

The Field of Blood

The cold flicks of the drizzling rain came through the gaps in her helmet, but Lua'kah'wyss ignored it as she stood with friend Tris and the rivvil she had been placed in command of as their jabbress. Soon the thalack would begin in all its fury and bloodshed and a great feeling of tension seemed to thrum from the throng of nearby rivvil and then the orcs to their side and rear that stood in serried ranks. Before them, off in the mist, she could head the bashing of weapons against shields, howling shrieks and war-cries drowned out the faint sounds of battle off to her right where thousands of others, orc and savage rivvil clashed most likely. But for her, as with all the others standing in those ranks the world had been reduced to that small world before them and to either side of them. Even the bizarreness of her current position, standing as jabbress of Tris and these eight brave rivvil jaluk amidst and an army of orcs, had fled from her mind as she prayed to Eilistraee for strength in melee to come.

"ARCHERS READY BY RANK!" came the orders from a short distance in front of their ranks where the wicked little kobolds stood in organised lines, bows held in hand and in the haze of the mist she could see the nearest rearward ones reaching for arrows as the follow up order of "ARCHERS NOTCH ARROWS!" reached her eyes moments later alongside the faintest sounds of hundreds of small hands moving in unison.

She knew the light rain and misty fog would impair these creatures already poor archery, but the simultaneous twang of bowstrings releasing at the roars of "ARCHERS RELEASE!" gave her, and the others around her, some small measure comfort. As did the repeating cycle of order that seemed to come to her ears in the time that followed while she stood silently seemingly forever along with Tris and the other ranks of the so-called auxlia as friend Karg had named them. Still the sounds of crashing weapons on shields and shouts below their position continued to near, alongside what sounded like the occasional discordant noises that followed in the wake each volley of arrows. Still they waited, shields and spears at the ready, while orders were shouted out around them for others to perform their duties. The organisation...was not something she would have imagined of rivvil let alone orc-kind, like the movement of gears in a duegars clockwork though instead of the graceful movements of her own people or even the darthiir. Not that, in the end, it was no less deadly a dance.

"DANGER CLOSE! ARCHERS WITHDRAWING! AUXILIA LINES OPEN! " echoed out from the rough and loud orcish female named Ghorza that was their commanding Jabbress, and along with dozens more voices (mostly orcish) Lua'kah'wyss found her mouth moving in a now well practice drill.

"SQUAD! OPEN LINES! BACK TO BACK!" repeated line a strange chant from each of the squad officers as hundreds of bodies moved at the same time. Moments later Lua'kah'wyss stood back to back with friend Tris, kit shield held firmly against her while across from her a human jaluk from the auxlia mirror her movements like those beside him, and her – as moments later a stream of the short scaly kobolds dash between these spaces in the lines.

"AUXILIA CLOSE LINES! SHIELD WALL! SPEARS OUT!" echoed out from behind her almost the instant the last of the ugly little archers had passed by her. Her own voice echoing out immediately after to her squad the correct response as they shifted position once again; bracing her shield just behind the rivvil standing in front of her, bringing her spear up to rest on his shoulder. Just as she could feel a matching pressure on her back, and appearance (and the weight) of another long spear came to rest upon her own shoulder.

Practice made perfect as she heard said in this strange war camp and within only a short few moments she stood amidst a solid block of rivvil and some orcs, breath steaming on the cold evening air. Indeed she was so focused on her orders and was before her she hardly noticed the sounds of the kobold and goblin archer auxlia reforming behind them...nor paid any attention as the first volley flew over their heads. Though the battle song starting to emerge from around her was also a focus of a different sort...

Always standing proud, we know our time has come

Marching off to war, the crusade has just begun

The rising noise of battle-cries and banging weapons ascending towards her seemed to be drowned out as the sound of a battle-song beginning reached her ears, and that of those around her, from the orcish cohort nearby. Not that it was just them as many rivvil voices joined them in that orcish tongue that was drilled into the vassal warriors of friend Karg's strange clan.

Fighting for the right to live under the sun

We won't stop 'til they've lost and we've won

Power seemed to slowly permeate the air as the imitation of a bard-song, or perhaps a crude spellsong, seemed to form in her mind as shapes began to become visible in the farthest distance of the mist. A few, perhaps dozens, of these shapes collapsing to the ground moments later as an unheard or unseen to her volley of arrows once again soared over the heads of her and her rivvil warriors.

Come and fly with us, together as one we belong

This magic of metal unites us, it's making us strong

Not even the sound of her own voice, shouting orders or joining the battle-song occasionally, reached her as her as sharp certain focus took hold. The whole block of infantry bracing itself as the howling foe coming up the incline finally caught sight of them and began to move forward more quickly, brandishing weapons and shouting battle-cries that never reached her ears.

Like an arrow we strike - stronger than all

Heavy metal troops on the rise

Many of the howling barbarians were bare-chested, some adorned with leather jerkins or animal furs decorated with images of horses some part of her mind idly noted thanks to her sharper eyesight than her rivvil or little tu'rilthiir Tris. A mistake really as several already had arrows sticking out of them, but seemingly ignorant of these wounds the barbarian rivvil charged forward in a wave...

Like an arrow of might - stronger than all

We'll walk through fire, we're true to ourselves and our lives

...a wave that crashed over the solid of brace shield and readied spears like a wave breaking over a great stone wall. A few ranks back from the initial impact Lua'kah'wyss felt on the faintest pressure backwards...for but a moment as the pressure from shield behind her pressed against plate armour of her back. Not that she noticed at all, stabbing forward with her spear in a now practiced motion in unison with dozens of others like hers, and dozens move great pikes from the rearmost squads...

History commits the oath to deal in steel

Warriors of steel, to the foe we don't kneel

Blood splattered as spears slammed home into exposed flesh. Bones shattered as barbarians were pushed forward by those charge behind them. Berserk fury finding no means to overcome the sudden inability to swing weapons against the tightly compacted ranks in front of them; nor means to prevent fatal wounds that rage alone could overcome. But heedless of the carnage inflicted upon them, nor the iron wall before them, these rivvil barbarians charged...

Brought into the fold, these Spartans are for real

No one will ever bring us to heel

Was it one charge? Two? Three? A dozen?

Lua'kah'wyss didn't know. It felt as if an endless tide was flowing against them, howling and shrieking. But the sky seemed to be darker now through the mist in the brief moments of respite. All that there was now was the prayers to the Dark Maiden, the shifting of position as wounded were taken from the lines to be healed. Sometimes she seemed to be in the middle of the ranks spear stabbing, sometimes resting but a moment and yet others at the fore front with sword and shield adding to mound of bodies before them...

Come and fly with us, together as one we belong

This magic of metal unites us, it's making us strong

Still though her limbs and mind were focused and sure as shining blade or old spear brought the enemy before her low. Even with the power of magic tingled in her veins at the approach of the foes power no fear infected her as she and Tris fought side by side. Something of power, clouds and hostile intent was before them, charging like a wild storm at their lines with reckless abandon. When had she called upon the power of her goddess? Why did the horse have wings? When did the moon begin to rise in the cloudy and darkening sky above?

Like an arrow we strike - stronger than all

Shooting through the air at full speed

The ranks buckled as the will of their foe smashed into with all the spirit and rage of the wild tempest. Rivvil and orc knocked aside by the shifting power in the shape of horse, feet stomping and lashing out at stabbing spears. Sudden rejuvenated barbarians charging forward, hearts previously overcome with fear one again emboldened as the Will of the Clan was made manifest before their eyes to target their foes. But Lua'kah'wyss was without fear as the Dark Maiden's power flowed through her, smashing aside those cries of 'Uthgar! Uthgar!' that stood before her as lines reformed and blood was spilled. No mere spirit, or spirits, would defeat her now. Clan Will of some same savage rivvil or not...

Like an arrow of might - stronger than all

By our power, defending our hopes and beliefs

She panted tiredly in the chill early night air. Beside her friend Tris rest back to back with an equally exhausted rivvil whose name Lua'kah'wyss could not recall. When had the armour clad orc jabbress Ghorza joined them? Where had all the blood on their armoured forms come from? It must be the field corpses that seemed to have appeared before her...but...

...and in the distance to her left something of fire and blood and wings, reeking of evil to her suddenly wide awake mind roared in rage in vague outline through the fog...

Ah the start of the battle. And Hammerfell - Stronger than All. Everyone needs metal orcs. Even when their just drow and humans who are orc vassals.

Last edited: Mar 23, 2017

[Krowluc 08]

The Field of Blood

"Why we doin' nuffin Boss? We ain't we fightin yet" one of his riders, the Stormfang born Orc Dargunk, grumbled to Krowluc as he and his riders stood waiting with their mounts at the rear of the Spartan battle-line. Through the deepening misty fog he could see down the slope the ferocious charge of the Uthgarder barbarians once again slam into the wall of shields and spears awaiting them. And once again the shield wall met them with fire and steel, and, unfortunately for the Uthgarders, once again their attack faltered as more bodies joined the growing field of corpses before them. Truth be told the Orc Chief and his Shaman hadn't even committed their full strength to stop any charge as yet; even now well over a hundred orcs stood in ready ranks around said Shaman rather than in the battle-line. Squads rotating in and out as warriors were injured, withdrawn, healed and then returned to kill yet more barbarians.

"Oi don't be whinin' Darguk, the Chief and Shamans have got a good plan and its workin like so far..." better than on our flank looks like he figured glancing off into the mists to where the signs and sounds indicated the Moonblades were being pushed back to him "...and why we ain't doin nothing? Look at this fuckin fog! We're been kept in reserve to throw back a charge, or to chase'm down needs be! So shut up, be quiet the lot of ye and focus on been ready to move at a moment's notice!"

It was easy to know why they were getting impatient, especially the full blooded orc born; they'd been standing here for hours doing little beyond one brief charge and some arrow fire. Not that Krowluc would complain much in that as the more you fought the higher your chances you got dead in one of those charges. Especially upon broken and hilly ground like this, these idiots were too new to the craft and didn't understand the dangers of such. Or the fact of the sheer numbers of their foe and the problems of keeping the formation together at night, and in such a growing fog as this. Seven Hells the battlefield itself was almost totally hidden behind the roiling mists, the darkening sky and terrain of broken ground and trees beyond the odd flash of flame and noise over the battle-songs of the fighting soldiers here!

Krowluc watched as an orc riding an exhausted looking horse was allowed in through the orc warriors standing guard on the flank with the Moonblades, and came to a halt as the Shaman and his escort of guards strode towards the arriving orc. Arms were pointed back into the fog, down the slope towards the left flank and the sounds of ferocious battle beyond...or at least what little could be heard of it over the chanting and clash of steel as the Uthgarders broken once again and fled back and to the side. Whatever the case even from here Krowluc could it wasn't exactly good news judging by the gesticulating of the Shaman, and the fact minutes later the figures of the Old Chieftain had joined the two and were in a hurried discussion of some sort. Soon orders were being shouted, one of which soon found Krowluc himself being called over by a clearly agitated looking Shaman and Chieftain alongside a kobold sorcerer captain. The Shaman's words were straight forward and to the point at least.

"Right, problems on our left I'm afraid. Barbarians in large numbers are powering around them and the 'line' has buckled and broken between the Moonblades and Icepeaks through sheer numbers and magic looks like...and the position to our flank is collapsing unless they can get a moment to recover. The plan is simple; I'm taking my Century down the slopes along with you both of you..." he motioned at Krowluc and the nodding kobold "...cavalry at the fore, archers at the rear and my boyos in the middle. Move at the walk till I order otherwise, but we need to give our allies time to pull back so we can defend this hill at least..." he motioned at the exhausted rider "...Jerngak here will be you Krowluc, guide us down. Now go and organise your fighters, we have to move this moment"

Krowluc nodded immediately and began buckling his armoured helmet over his head as he strode back towards his band of riders with Moonblade rider following behind him "MOUNT UP YOU LOT! YOU WANTED A FIGHT WELL WE GOT ONE!"

He glanced at the battered looking new addition, fishing into his saddle bag as he neared his own horse and tossing a small potion flask to the orc "Drink it! Yer fuckin' injured, and exhausted to boot, and I don't you to screw up from tiredness and injury as that'll get someone killed"

Not bothering to wait for a reply Krowluc pressed his booted foot into the stirrup of his armoured charger and pushed himself up into the saddle with great effort due. Around him the others were doing the same, forming up around the three 'squad heads' in himself, Bareyaras and Thieving Kyras just like he'd beaten into their thick skulls for the past two seasons. It seemed to day they were all going to get to see how they stood up to a real battle and not just some puissant little scouting duty or wiping out small groups of isolated enemies. Hopefully he and most of them survived the engagement "ALLL--RITEEEEE YOU LOT! FORM UP! WEDGE FORMATION!"

It still took longer than he'd liked for them to get into position, but still it took the Shaman and his orcs and the kobold with his own kind to do the same behind him so there was no complaints there as he did one last check on his weapons equipment. Best not to die because of forgetting to buckle a strap after all; that'd be embarrassing and unprofessional as well as deadly to him. The Moonblade...Jerkguk? Jernbak?...came in beside him at the van of the horses, his face showing more health and stamina than moments ago thanks to the potion. Assuming they both survived Krowluc would remember to call in payment on that little piece of generosity, or at least ensure a favour owed. But there was little time to waste on such thoughts as the Shaman was shouting orders to advance, and Krowluc responded by encouraging his mount to advance forward at a slow trot as he reminded his band of idiots; Safety first.

"ADVANCE! WATCH YER MOUNTS FER BROKEN GROUND. ANY YE MORONS BREAK A BEASTS LEG CUZ YER CLUMSY I'LL WHIP YER BACK RAW!"

Which was really fucking hard even for him as he guided a cavalry van, and following infantry, through the misty fog, down a hill of occasionally trees and rocks as darkness fell and his vision restricted as ever by the full helm on his head. Truly he chosen the best path in life so far he reminded himself with annoyance, and then pushed it aside as blood began to boil as the sounds of battle neared and his blade came into hand as shapes battling in the fog below became more visible. Most of them shorter and less well armoured than the orc warriors of the Moonblade clan he'd trained with these past weeks. It seemed a gap was opening here too as more humans came rapidly into view as he had the warhorn blown by that idiot Eager Egar and the speed of his horse began to increase as the ground flattened out, clear before them...

...a roar of feral joy and bloodlust erupted from behind his helm as his warhorse smashed through the first of the battling human barbarians. Sword flashing with practiced ease as the momentum of his small band of cavalry literally bowled over those barbarians in front of them, blades slashing into barbarians flesh or horses trampling them as they roared and screamed in pain and surprise at the new attack...

...a big burly human on his own mount surged at him as the battled roiled around Krowluc, his mount lashing out with hoofs while he himself met the foolish barbarian's axe with his blade. Before smashing the edge of his shield into the human's face with all his might; bone and cartilage breaking with the impact, blood spurting as the unconscious man fell from his horse back into his disheartened warriors...

...war-horn called. Rally-Reform it blared, and Krowluc obeyed just as did the rest of his squad. The melee was confusing, but they fell back on the signal and bright white light of the burning sword near it, cutting disorganised humans down as returned. Before him a carpet of bodies were strewn, wounded or dead as he watched as the ranks of Spartan infantry began to pull back...scores of other orc warriors forming up once again in a line that disappeared into the roiling mists beneath the dark early night sky...

...blood spilled on his blade as he charged down once again upon the surprised humans. They had not expected the defending orcs to charge into their charge it seemed! Confusion reigned as some of the barbarians continued to charge forward, eyes wild and feral, while others attempted to attack him and his riders. A fool choice as his mounts picked up the pace, dancing around the lightly armoured man with slow two handed sword before taking his head. Bareyara's and others bows loosing arrows back into the barbarians as they withdrew once again, all they had...

"What in the Seven Hells is that..." he ground out as he turned his head at suddenly loud roars off in the fog below, gouts of flame seeming to erupt from there as well. Around him his tired and battered, but now proven band of battle riders were finishing up taking their brief respite even without orders. Even to them it was apparent that it had ended as he saw the Shaman gesticulating angrily, or fearfully, and muttering all sorts of loud curses in orcish, the common tongue, dwarven and then in tongues even Krowluc had never encountered before in his travels. It was never a good sign when a previously confident magic user surrounded by battle winning warriors was snarling things like that in a concerned tone of voice. As Krowluc brought his horse near for orders he watched as the slave wizard girl said some hurriedly to the orc, getting a snarling response for a moment...before the Shaman took a deep breath and glanced at Krowluc...

"OKAY, OKAY! Fucking great, we've a serious problem it seems. You! Talk your cavalry down the line and grab whatever cavalry the Moonblades have left, or other clans over there and make sure we aren't flanked and...now what?" his voice roared out as more gouts of flame roared out from further in the fog below. Closer to them Krowluc could see human barbarian fighters breaking off and retreating suddenly, or even in a cluster nearby fighting amongst themselves. Hmmm...was it?

"Different tribes Shaman, these were mostly were Sky Pony from there emblems and that...horse thing you slew in the fighting..." he half said, half-shouted at the agitated Shaman "...the others have different markings, I don't know them to be sure without checking the bodies. What is wrong Lord?"

"Those fools have summoned fucking demons unto the field! Stupid bastards and their..." he snarled back clutching an amulet his hand before suddenly going silent, seeming to be listening to something or something only could hear for a few moments. Then taking his hand away and snarling curses again before continuing.

"..fuck, more than one of those things of course and little friends. And Wyrmog brought a Fucking Fire Giant Forge Priest unto the field hidden in with his mates! It's chaos down there. This is a gods-damned fucking clusterfuck! Arggg...dammit, Krowluc do what I was saying, and tell the Moonblades to withdraw back up the slope and get that useless fucker they call a cleric to get ready for what's coming for us! Now Go, Hresgk will go with you! Give him a damned horse!" the Shaman ordered motioned with that burning bar of light held in his hands at the armoured orc holding a matching blade that seemed to on fire, albeit less strongly "Rose start casting Buffs on..."