In My Time of Troubles

by Crossposted

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

28. Entry 28

When: Late Spring, 1356 Dale Reckoning

Where: Shaman's Tower, Stronghold of Sparta

Home sweet home and fire out; though that's largely inaccurate as the forge fires are blazing with life within the stronghold as pikes, billhooks, and arrows are produced in numbers to equip our armies. Crudely made I'll admit, but they're decent enough to bless and then kill enemies without breaking to pieces; good enough is what's needed rather than what one would call desired perfection. I've had to spend a large part of tonight checking up on the stockpiles, and the quality of the weapons; I always get a bit wary when I'm not around to keep things on track. A few swords were produced as well, but their more time and material consuming than the spearheads – and generally less effective in large-scale organised warfare anyway.

Cutting the trees in the valley's environs has given us a steady stream of lumber, so spear and arrow shafts, as well as shields ranging from round shields to thick heavy tower ones, have been a focus in all the villages as well as here in the stronghold. At least it's supposed to be, and deliveries indicate levels are where we'd want them. Same as with armor; most of the production is of thick cloth gambesons now that we've gotten decent amounts of flax for linen, and sheep for wool. Unlike what many a game in my past life had indicated; leather armor was problematically restrictive, and full plate when well made gave no detriment to movement as Zah could show.

So far then the core of our forces, Sparta's anyway, are those heavily armored and best armed warriors of the clan; the better trained and older veterans, with quality improving in my own, Zah's and Old Breyjuk's personal bodyguards. Hardly up to the elite status of a full equipped knight,beyond that stuff Zah clads himself in now. But its proper heavy infantry with spear, shield and blade; and most importantly discipline in the manner I like along with Warsword and Battlestave support by squad. Only twelve squads ten to twelve of those, buts still ten times better than where we were a mere decade ago. I suspect we'll have to leave half of them behind though for both training up the young idiots, and to ensure we maintain order in the valley.

My sort of order, rather than risking the more savage idiots taking charge should I fall in battle, or merely be away too long and someone seeking rebellion pops up. We're going to stripping out a major chunk of the vassals fighters; whether human, goblin or kobold, but never can know for sure. Of those the human, and some few half-elven, auxiliaries are ironically well equipped thanks to Zah's little expedition to the Neverwinter Woods; them and the cavalry under Captain Krowluc. Old, well ancient, elven kingdom-style gear maybe battered a bit but it's held up shocking well considering. Though sadly not of the right size for we big, taller, bulkier, orcs so whatever we couldn't jury-rig unto our own existing armor; mithril and enchanted armor is worth alot.

It made a useful adjustment to my own nature of wearing my red chainmail over a gambeson by adding on some mithril greaves, bracers and other minor things such as that; honestly a breast plate wouldn't go far wrong either if it was light as they were. Anyway, gives an odd cast to our maybe fifty cavalry and our human auxiliaries I'll admit but quality for militia/vassal levy is better than most actual 'soldiers' from the northern human 'cities'. Or at least that's what I've been told by Doctor Ned, Crue the Grumpy Dwarf, and more importantly Nimmil and Krowluc with their mercenary background. Though I will admit the good Captain has a personal interest in that being the case. I mention this because Darth Pharghk has returned, as have several of the clan-chiefs in our alliance and the time to march will be soon now that we are 'allied' with that Uthgadt lunatic.

Rather than risk them attacking us, and defeating us, in detail it seems we are to assemble our hosts during the early summer and shadow her army as it arrives north of here. Or just in case Wyrmog moves sooner than we expect. Now that our planning is almost finished, and life is returning to the lands enough to feed such a horde; so I can't really argue against the reasoning of our great Sith overlord Shaman as I tend to agree with the ideas behind it.

Not to say it isn't problematic for me since we've evidently been put in charge of Cattie-blood-Brie for the next while as they seek out her Dwarven Daddy and all his buddies. Or have Team Drow Priestess here with us in the stronghold and what to do with them. So, many headaches to be had unfortunately it seems. For the red-haired orc hater I've arranged to have her placed in a shared room with the God-slaves; her preference as much as my orders, though I doubt she understands they are not as they seem. Well I have marching orders from on high not to argue against so I won't.

Our other prisoner; Sydney, Apprentice of Host Tower and general problem, has now found herself part-slave, part apprentice and part-servant of Doctor Ned on the condition he ensures he keeps here in line. Considering whatever ritual he put the girl through, along with getting that kobold tavern owning wizard to help in placing a 'slave collar' around her neck, I'm pretty sure that's the case. After all he 'reassembled' that Flesh Golem, claims he stuck in an angry spirit – and then sent it 'home' with orders to kill. Now we're strapping magical bombs into Flesh Golems and using them as fire and forget weapons – truly we are beacon of civilization in these dark times. Now sarcasm aside; if it works great, if it doesn't it'll be a distraction, either way it's better than leaving it here for someone try recover. Dendybar did in 'canon' after all according to the Tome of Wiki.

So, no soon than I'm home than I have to prepare to leave again, made worse by the nature of this coming great battle as everyone sees it. Mostly because both Zah and Old Breyjuk insist on going despite the whole idea being for one of them to stay behind – made worse by the fact both agree with each other that they both should go. Normally then I'd remain behind, but I'm the logistics element of this giant mess of a Horde under High Priest Pharghk and they want me along too, so NO to that idea either. Old Cardac seems to be the primary candidate for the stronghold under Breyza and Oggy, and then Ghorza (despite her punching me over it) agrees to stay in the capacity that myself currently holds.

We've scouted out the region north us pretty extensively since the end of winter, and there's a few spots with a sufficient water source and land we scrounge off on ease our transported supplies for a bit. Between all the allied clans, levies raised, mercenaries, and all the other hangers on, we'll be looking at well over ten thousand spears. Maybe up towards twenty if they other clans gather up in force like demanded, but outside of the core of ourselves, the Moonblades and the Night-tombs much of that is of dubious loyalty as per usual. And that doesn't mention the likes of the Red Axes, or 'unwilling vassal levies' amongst them; nor the Uthgardt host with heavy cavalry that could betray us in a heartbeat as well. Yay!

So we've got this big horde of orcs with minions, held loosely together by us either being allies or defeating them, having to be fed and watched till Furry McFurryfucker descends from the Spine with an army equally as large, over even larger. I'd put off thinking about with the 'diplomacy' but with that 'successful' now it's time to get back being Vader to Pharghk's Palapatine. Save not evil, well I'm not – because I'm pretty he is, but I'm in the logistics and internal security while our glorious Priest of the One-Eye leads us to blah, blah, blah, with his magic stick of the Gods.

Missy's coming with, as is Rose, and Lua and Tris are dependent on Qilue and her Drow. Because I want Lua around, with Lara, when the Chosen of Two Goddesses is about whether it's in the field or remaining in the stronghold. Though I strongly suspect it'll be in the field with the human/half-elf Auxlia judging from Lua has said to me, and what brief conversations that the dangerous Chosen has said to me in our recent little talk. I'm under observation really from her to decide if I'm a potential ally or enemy, and you can't really observe me when I'm elsewhere I expect. That and I find the prospect of fighting against an 'evil' foe likely satisfies the younger ones that are with her in regards their adventurous nature; or maybe just get a chance to share tents with human and orc males. Who knows?

Whatever the case Doctor Ned will remain here, as will Nimmil, to continue training the Battlestaves not assigned to the army, as well as the younger children alongside the apprentices. Our 'education system' may resemble a military academy at best but I'm making sure the next generation gets as educated as we can manage while all of these are under our command. Another reason is that I do want to maintain both a reserve here if things go wrong, as well as have a magical counter should wizards attack from Luskan or somewhere else. Even just for prevention, hampering even, of scrying activities into the stronghold at the very least would be worth. And he's quite happy to stay and study and teach his magic, so hurray for that.

Rose will be coming too, as much because she wishes too than anything else; though she's staying as part of my bodyguard and retinue, being kept from the frontlines if at all possible. She's something of aide-de-camp anyway so, beyond her unhappy grandmother, it's not a big problem taking her with me. In part because it ensures she does try to be adventurous on her own initiative away from me, and also because everywhere is dangerous in these days. I've no doubt there'll be raids into the valley once we leave; hence leaving a sizable garrison behind despite the need for every warrior in the field. Ah, the joys of a quasi-feudal/tribal military and political structure to have to work around!

Anyway, must go and meet with High Priest and all the other shouty idiots he wants me to glare menacingly at.

Slan go foil a chardai.

--

[Lua'kah'wyss 12]

Town Area, Stronghold of Sparta

Faint steam filled the air of the bathhouse as she strode in and the great pool of hot water in the basin of black and grey rock that Karg had ordred created for her. Well, her and his clan of course, but since she and Her Holiness had been allowed it this night she would count it as being ultimately intended for relaxation purposes by her mildly mad orc. For a moment she savoured the wave of heat off her bare skin, sighing happily before walking forward and bowing to the most holy of priestesses resting back in those steaming waters, eyes closed and seemingly content at the position as one of her attendants rubbed her back as the other her legs and feet.

"Holy One, I, Lua'kah'wyss, have come as you have requested"

The Chosen of the Dark Maiden opened her eyes, giving a bemused smile and shooing away the two younger priestesses who had been attending her "Shoo, shoo now you two! I need to talk on serious matters now with our sister here you know..." then turning her gaze back on Lua'kah'wyss with a benign smile, motioning for her to get into the waters as the other two priestesses splashed away giggling and shoving at each other "...now-now, into the waters dear Lua'kah'wyss and let us enjoy a pleasant conversation"

"Oh, ignore thy sisters in faith..." her holiness stated, watching her expression with a faint grin as the two priestesses moved away from them acting like they were two dahlaren away from their parent but a moment "...it was a most difficult, and stressful, journey through these lands to reach this place. Such a chance to relax and enjoy such waters was most unexpected and one feels it best to enjoy them whilst one can. Please, rest and relax beside myself my dear"

The warm was deliciously hot as she slid into it with a contented sigh, aligning herself beside the taller radiant beauty that was the blessed Chosen of Eilistraee in the still largely empty pool. She managed to choke out a nervous "Thank you Holiness, it is an honour..."

A hand came to rest on her shoulder and gave an encouraging squeeze "Relax my child, you should call me Qilue and you are Lua are you not? I have heard thine friends refer to thee as that? As does your orc shaman who hath built this place for us to meet?"

Lua'kah'wyss flushed in embarrassment "Holiness, I'm just a clumsy girl from...and you...you're the blessed of the Maiden herself! It would be disrespectful Holiness!"

Suddenly a finger flicked her on the nose, then wagged at her startled expression while giggling softly "Now-now! It's Qilue, it always feels strange to be treated so prim and proper you know! Now what's my name?"

Lua'kah'wyss blushed "Qilue Holi..." at a 'Hmm?' from the Her Holiness she gave a nervous little laugh "I mean Qilue, it is a pleasure to serve you today"

"Hah, relax dear child, I'm not going to bite you know..." her Holiness chided with some amusement, splashing some of the water at Lua'kah'wyss "...stop making me feel so old! I am a vibrant young maiden...well, wild, vibrant and energetic young Lady perhaps. Being a maiden is rather boring I find! Not so wild, vibrant, and energetic as you have been since leaving the Underdark my dear Lua perhaps, but still fun! One would never have thought to take an orc as a lover!"

"Well, we...I thought he was human at time..." she blurted out in reply, mind journeying back those weeks travelling through the human lands. Being hated, feared and spat upon most everywhere but enjoying the initial companionship with her friend before getting a bit closer "...and then he save me and Tris, and it was fun...then the Luskans were trying to kill us and we had to flee...then he told us he was an orc, and I wanted to go with him, and then we ended up here...and then more stuff happened..."

Her Holiness laughed joyfully and suddenly an arm was around Lua'kah'wyss's shoulders "Oh, it sounds quite the adventure there! You must tell, but quick question...was he a big rivvil? Orcs are rather tall and bulky compared to rivvil one notes"

Lua'kah'wyss shook her head, long damp white hair splashing slightly in the water as she did so "No, he was...shorter and thinner, and rivvil-like. Karg likes magic, and turned into a human and then turned back when we had to come back to the stronghold. It was a bit odd at first, but we rather liked the change after some time together"

Her Holiness tapped her chin, looking at her thoughtfully "So rivvil to orc? Did he increase proportionally in size?"

Lua'kah'wyss nodded and gave a satisfied smirk "Oh yes, that was a rather pleasant surprise! Oh and he was pretending to be a Loremaster too! So I bedded a Orc Shaman whose also a Wizard while he was pretending to be a Rivvil Loremaster! That has to be like, a record, or something?"

A pout came over Her Holiness's face "Ahh phooey! That has to be a record, and I can understand the appeal to him at least. Why the amount of times I've gone around in the guise of a rivvil! Such one, why there was this one time the illusion broke down with a stableboy...thankfully he was rather tied up at the time and calmed down fairly swiftly. Grew up into a nice old rivvil too..." she said to Lua'kah'wyss appearing almost wistful expression a moment "...oh Laeral was sooooo mad about that too. Less than the dancing incident while disguised as her, but in my defense I didn't know rivvil were so prudish at the time..."

"Holiness?"

Her Holiness blinked "Oh, sorry, just some happy memories appeared in one's mind. Now where were we...oh yes, your rather odd taste in males! Orc Wizards after all are rather rare in this world, and one most say many aspects of this place are rather...disquieting Lua dear. I've seen some things that boil the blood at certain stages in my brief stay I must say"

Lua'kah'wyss found herself rubbing her arm feeling slightly uncomfortable at the question-reprimand "I...know Holi...Qilue, it bothers me greatly to see such everyday and Karg and I talk upon it regularly...but...I know he listens to my words and wishes to change such things. Missy was his slave and he freed her when found an excuse to do so, and has encouraged others to reward slaves in such a manner. Even allowing them to fight their way to freedom by serving as soldiers; I...do not agree, not entirely, but is sincere I believe when he says he wishes to change things in the many years to come"

Suddenly her Holiness's face was cold and stern "I do not believe as such, this is great wickedness and must be brought a stop too! He allows you near to him despite his wariness and many guards, with your help..."

Lua'kah'wyss broke away from her great effort; anger and horror on her face "NO! NO! Karg is my friend! Mine! I will not betray him and everyone in the household like that! How can you ask such of me Holiness! It is wrong! He's trying! The Goddess would never..."

Loud giggling reached her ears as she flailed around in the waters seeking out what to do next, glancing and seeing the two priestesses looking in her direction and laughing. One slapping the other's shoulder and loudly announcing she was right as the other huffed in seeming annoyance. Confusion set in as suddenly the body of Her Holiness Qilue was pressed up against her and enveloping her in a hug "I'm sorry Lua, dear child, one must test sometimes to see things more clearly. You are a true and good servant of the Goddess, and NO I would not demand such of you I promise; this one swore to bring no harm against thine orc if he brought no harm against us. But this one sees...certain aspects...of others souls in such moments as now. When I saw you had taken a slave...some fears you had been corrupted plagued me"

The hug tightened and Lua'kah'wyss found herself enveloped by the larger, taller and more amply bosomed Chosen of the Goddess. It was rather...confusing her mind informed her as her head was pressed against that chest by that warm loving embrace "But they are proven false thank the Goddess"

Mind utterly befuddled "Lara? But...I, can't...free...it's why she should go with you Holiness...she's not...well"

"Yes, she is broken dear Lua. Broken so very badly, and I had feared when I had seen your strange orc serve the creature that did such to that poor child..." Her Holiness said ending the embrace after a few moments "...now you aren't going to run away in fear of me are you?"

Lua'kah'wyss just shook her head, too confused to do much more than sink back down into the water and state the obvious "Karg didn't hurt Lara, he's tried help heal her with me every day since taking possession of her. It was the other orc, that old scary one that he's ever so wary of"

"Yes, and old and powerful evil that one is my child. Yet your orc serves him loyally I note"

Lua'kah'wyss shook her head, taking a breath and trying to clear her befuddled mind "For stuff outside the clan yes, but Karg...doesn't let the other clans act..well, like most orcs, inside the valley or with clan-slaves. I think he's afraid he lose in fight with that old shaman and lose everything he's built. Though he says he mostly wants to try convincing the other clans the ways here are better than the murderous and savage ways of before. I..." she flushed in embarrassment "...I hate to say I fear the old orc Holiness, especially what Lara says of her nightmares. It is, unnerving to hear of as Lara was...not a good person before"

A hand patted her shoulder "I know child; it is the curse of that wicked Spider upon our people to corrupt and warp them to such cruel ways. But our lost young child will be led to the Goddess and hope by you and I, and perhaps your orc too, in the days to come. Your prayers to the Darksong Knight will be answered in the saving of another of our lost kin..."

She couldn't help but smile at the thought of that. Lara was improving, but she still cowered from others behind herself and Karg; even the prospect of being freed from her slavery made the woman somewhat hysterical that she was to be abandoned or discarded. Her Holiness gave another encouraging squeeze of her shoulder "...and perhaps some small part of our own. Your male has offered us a settlement within these lands of his clan, with the support of his chieftain, and I would ask thee on thy tales of these lands..."

--

[Interlude 10] [A]

--

With Words, With Blood, and With Mithral: Tales of the Fallen North

Authored by Mazoga Ironhand, daughter of Krowlak Ironhand. Mage-Warlord of Black Raven Keep, Scholar-Artificer of the Steel Dragon Tavern-Tower, and Loremistress of Emperor Zahgran the First, Giantsbane, Elftamer, Builder of Airships, and Master of Blizzards.

Chapter II: Blood, Steel, Magic, and Betrayal – The Battle of Bitter Blood Creek

It has many names; the Battle of the River Mirar, despite it not truly being fought upon the banks of that great waterway. To others it is The Betrayers Victory for its nature, or the Battle of Six Armies for the number of forces that clashed, even the Second Bloody Fields by the more classically trained scholar amongst the august ranks of the Midnight Tower. But to most, it has taken upon the name that has come upon the monastery-fortress, and later town, that would be established upon the site many years after the lands had been pacified; Bitter Blood Creek. While not realised fully at the time; the battle would have far reach consequences within the then North and Savage Lands, nations rising and falling, just as the Age of Humanity came crashing down from the heavens above.

To understand the reasons for the battle, or at least the initial spark that would begin the clash, one must look back to the collapse of the Great Horde of The Crags that had formed around the Great Warlord Wyrmog the Heretic, and the High Shaman Phargk of the Night-tombs. With this collapse, also born in a betrayal during a battle, the Horde crumbled into brutal civil war between the two factions that formed around the powerful figures as supporters railed to one or the other. Wyrmog representing both a continuation of the old ways of the Crag orc clans as he declared himself King of the Crags, yet also a separation by his allegiance to the God of his Mother; Surtr, God of the Fire Giants.

Opposed to this the aging Shaman in turned represented his own appeal to oft contradictory seeming ideals; forming the Illuskan Kingdom under the Clans of the New Order such as Sparta, Moonblade, and Red Axe, yet also calling for a greater return to the Gods by ritual and worship unseen in years in those lands. From this initial split, a greater conflagration arose as the forces of Illusk retreated, regrouped, and then struck in the winter snows at the seemingly victorious warlord in the very heart of his power. Stuck at, and then forced to flee with his most trusted retainers to Spine of the World, and to the savage hordes gathered within those lands under the loose ruler-ship of another barbarian 'King' of the Spine.

A fateful decision as the proto-Legions of then Illusk began to ravage and smash any clan that declared allegiance to the fled heretic Warlord over the following months. By the time of his return, with a great host made of allied clans from the north seeking to settle and mercenaries at his back, any who had remained loyal to his cause from the year before had been either slaughtered, enslaved, or forced to swear fealty to the new Kingdom of Illusk and the High Shaman Phargk the Skinweaver, of the Blood Moon Ritual, who stood at its head.

So by the long cold winter that preceded the bloody battles of the summer the Illuskan leaders attempted to gather their own forces, or at least secure their borders, from those powers nearby such as Longsaddle, the Sky Pony Uthgardt, and the city-state of Mirabar at the Great Assembly of Longsaddle. Led by the somewhat eccentric, but ruthless right-hand of the High Shaman, Karguk the Reader a delegation was sent to seek potential allies along with the future King, but then mere Warband Captain, Obould of Many-Arrows.

And indeed this assembly bore seeming fruit; the Uthgardt, reluctantly agreed to blood-truce and alliance against the returning Warlord, while the first of the Illuskan Drow would arrive to serve as mercenaries at that time. With the apparent support of both the Mirabarans and Mages of Longsaddle then the Shaman and his allies would return to the Great Assembly of the Illusk and begin the summoning of the various vassals and allies, reluctant or otherwise, for the great battle that was planned. A situation many in these times fail to grasp at full; imagining the Illuskan army as disciplined orc legions marching in full plate, with supporting auxiliaries of other races, against a horde of screaming northern berserker savages from the Spine in the well worn tales that dominate the court. Such could not be further from the truth when the situation is studied from the records of the time, and having spoken to those still alive, as both opposing armies of mountain orcs were rather similar.

Both possessed a core of disciplined mercenary clans (though the Illuskans numbers were slighter larger and better disciplined it must be noted), both possessed a larger force of barely disciplined raiding and barbarian style clans as their main force, and both possessed a significant force of non-orc auxiliaries with varying positions from slave fighters to favoured castes within their ranks. Even the uneasy alliance of Illuskans and Sky Pony Uthgardt was matched by the great tension that lay between the Northern Horde and the small army of Hobgoblins allied with them on their march southwards.

Yes it can be said the Illuskan Heavy Infantry that formed the core of their forces, and the Heavy Cavalry serving the Sky Pony, were superior to their Northern equivalents but respectively they made up only a around a tenth to an eight of the total forces deployed for battle. And, again often overlooked, was the Hobgoblin Crimson Hand Free Company was both well equipped for such a force, as well possessing a decent and effective mounted force. Indeed one that can be seen as superior to the then Illuskan Cavalry Legion as that force merely a fledgling waiting to grow, its numbers made up of disparate clans in uneasy cooperation rather than a unified fighting force.

In fact the bloody defeat at Bitter Blood Creek can be seen as the true birth of this force, along with the Legions as a totality, when considering the chaos and fighting in the months that followed till the Winter Assembly of Chiefs and Shamans. As such the great force that would move northwards, warily watching its 'allies' the Sky Pony, was just as much a polyglot army of distrust and then, held together by iron discipline from those commanding it. Numerically then, the combined forces of Illusk and Sky Pony matched that of the Northern Wyrmog led Horde with both mirroring each other to various degrees, the differences made more apparent for history by this very similarity in my own humble opinion.

Those differences in many ways reflected the nature of the two sides beliefs perhaps; the Illuskan's forces possessed a far greater number of spell-casters amongst their ranks. Primarily of Clerics and Shamans, but also of those of the Arcane path of magic, to a much greater degree than would be found amongst the army facing them. As well as possessing a number of the, then novel, weapons based upon black powder; such the Hwacha launcher and great blasting mines prepared for battle. Field fortifications, wagons for transport, and other such things then were far more numerous amongst the mustered forces.

Or even the presence of magical Shatter Bells used in the aftermath as the retreating army needed such tools against their magical foes; the forces of the nascent Illusk then possessed a preference for siege, or at least organised, warfare and would be reflected in the course of the bloody engagements at Bitter Blood Creek. Something that was matched by their 'allies' in the Sky Pony Tribe; though by the days of the battle the tribe had been largely co-opted by the Free Company of Gwaeneth of the Crimson Wings and now more a mercenary clan than its previous barbarian nature.

Opposite both of these forces then the Army of Wyrmog was more invested in the strong assault and shock elements of warfare; while weak in magic users the army possessed a strong force of Fire Giants, and Half-Breed warrior guards, as core. Proven perhaps during the battle as they attempted to utilise their control over that element, just as the Illuskans would try to use their magic and siege weapons to sway the tide of battle to their favour. Again reinforcing the focus on mobility and striking power was the greater number of cavalry brought by the heretic warlord; it must be noted though that this was in part due to many of the clans as part of the army planned on settling once they had won.

By late Spring then the great armies had begun to assemble for battle – though that is loose term as clans on both sides moved forward ahead of the great hosts in the early summer to clash, raiding and counter-raiding, with each other in an effort to gain glory and honour by their deeds. Indeed the great battle itself, or the First Battle of Bitter Blood Creek as some see it, began and almost ended before the arrival of the core of the Illuskan Legions on the field with the Uthgardt. As the descended the mountains into the group below their guard was high, but unsuspecting of the dangers that awaited them all on the sun-baked land marshland below...

--

[Interlude 10]

--

[For it is the return of the King forged in Flame]

As one of Fire he hated the snow, but here and now he was free of it as the heat was upon his skin standing upon the lower peak of the Spine, watching as the great host marched forward below him as the sun began to die once again on the horizon. For the moment it was the arrow fodder matching beneath him; filthy hobgoblins under their chieftain who thought they'd actually be allowed to establish their own lands within his soon to be Kingdom in the Crags.

He snorted at that, breath steaming on the mountain air from his contempt for the creatures. In a perfect world, they'd die bravely killing off lots of the old shaman bastard's warriors and allow him to sweep in and wipe them all out afterwards.Unlikely to happen of course, for that Hwarthuc was a sly wily fucking Hob, and wouldn't just do what he, the Surtr damn King, wanted for whatever reasons filthy hobgoblins had in their heads.

Instead, he and his kind marched separately, camped separately, and used their goblin outriders to scout separately as well often enough he'd noted. He just knew they planned to betray him and his noble cause...just like a filthy hobgoblin would of course. Likely why that sneering bastard who called himself King of the Spine had foisted the creature and his kind upon the glorious chosen of Surtr that he was.

Getting rid of one problem, while forcing he the Great Warlord of the Crags who'd ravaged the lands around Mirabar, to bow and scrape to an old bastard with delusions of grandeur. Pushing those thoughts aside he turned towards his half-brother Ariflas the Holy Flamebringer of Mighty Surtr and getting a nod of silent understanding in regards the trustworthiness of those below. Now was the time for revenge; for that old bastard shaman and his minions to be purged in holy hellfires for daring to drive him from his stronghold by striking like cowards in the night.

Revenge against all the pathetic weaklings who'd switch sides as he gathered his strength in the cold and bitter Spine, oh how'd they burn for every moment he'd had to grovel to that stinking prat who'd called himself King of the Spine. Now his armies would burst forth from these lands like a roaring volcano and sweep all before in such a slaughter that blessed Surtr would be moved to grant him vengeance on all those filthy orc Gods and their damnable priests who'd denied him his rightfully due in life.

Victory would be his this day, there was no other path; all who opposed his will would burn before his wrath...

--

[The Dawn comes on the Crimsons Wings of the Victory]

Night was falling and it was time for the night fires to be lit she ordered stretching her leg once again noting the healing was almost complete. Off in the distance the savage Orcs, damned creatures she was being forced by fate to ally with temporarily with against others of their kind, lurked in the darkness their own hosts of armed warriors. Darkness was their natural abode after all, and watch must be kept in case battle could come at any moment; too many times had she found unwary adventuring bands with silt throats and gear stripped away by their attackers.

Dangerous creatures these ones were too she acknowledged; likely led by outside forces and corrupting others to their wicked cause, but as long as they were pointed at the same foes then she would be content with the savages killing each other. Content that the preparations have been done for the night she retreated to her tent, adopting a meditative pose and resting her sheathed blade across her lap, hands on either knee. Even this simply relief had been denied to her for the cold harsh winter as the healing magic undid the strike from that traitorous, and likely fallen, priestess of the Grain Mother.

The large numbers of human mercenaries serving the orcs and their masters had been a surprise; she should have expected as such considering the influence of the Harpers and Harpells amongst her savage foes. Betrayal from the creatures of course was to be expected, definitely once that battle had been completed but also likely every moment they shadowed each other on the way north to face the half-fire giant scum. It was the way of evil to turn upon you she'd found in her experience, even when it seemed to over little benefit to them beyond crazed laughter.

She sighed sadly at that...but she had sworn and oath and would not break her words, even to these foul creatures and their hidden puppet masters. Honour and Duty as a Knight, as a servant of the Dawn Lord, demanded nothing less...but that not mean she had to walk in blind to the battle. Eyes would watch for the inevitable betrayal...and they would be ready and waiting for it; for the good of her people, for the good of the world, for the honour of the Dawn...

Victory would be hers this day, there was no other path available; the Dawn would come once again...

--

[Shines the Gleaming Star in Mines of Mithril]

Drums and hammers thundered in the deep she heard gazing out from the galley cut into solid rock at the bustling mine and forge-fires below. The great beating heart of Mirabar she acknowledged, and a nice benefit of being on the council, as the others sat drinking their ale or wine with the meeting coming to a close. So many dangers lay on the horizon, so many foes to consider and hard choices to make as ever for the Council of Sparkling Stones.

Dealing with that old dwarf and his party had been hard argued before making a decision, but what had to be had to be done in the end. For the good of City, that was all that mattered in the end regardless of personal feelings on the subject. The rumbling thunder of metal being beaten into arms and armor came to her ears, making ready for facing down those that threatened the sole beacon of civilization in these savage northern lands. A beacon that now lay under siege on its boundaries and farmland by savages, monsters, bandits, and then the crushing blow of the trade routes that enabled the city to build strength from mithril mines.

'No matter the cost the mithril most flow. Another few seasons and we shall face disaster as the treasury empties' she thought taking a more solid gulp to calm nerves as the lanterns were relit. It was hard to tell, deep beneath the earth, at the lateness but she was sure the meeting had last well into the night. Since returning to the city, over a bandit and Uthgardt infested Long Road, all the meetings seemed to drag into the late hours of the night as merchants and nobles came before them moaning of their misfortunes. Misfortunes caused by the wars and raids harming trade, and demanding action to solve them...as if she and the Council weren't doing everything they could to deal with it already!

Up to dealing with groups of mad wizards, enemies on all sides, and a host of other problems; like the refugees that had come into the city and been nothing but a headache trying to keep in line. Or worse, the ones who hadn't come in and then either turned towards rebellion against their lords, or just banditry to support their clans or communities. Sending out bands of 'brave adventurers' had eased the problem somewhat; occasionally by the odd successful returning quest-taker, but mostly by the cheap fodder these groups could be used as before they died off in the wilds. She sighed, shaking her head at the warnings she'd tried to give to the nicer ones...only to be ignored when the left. The price of victory and serving Mirabar perhaps...

Victory be theirs in the days to come, there was no other path available; Mirabar First, Mirabar Foremost, Mirabar Forever...

--

[Bones will break before the Storm Lord's Favoured]

Great bonfires burned in the fields around Griffon's Nest as the great throng of warriors mustered at his call to arms. The time was right for them to roar, to reave, and to ravage across these broken lands now that their enemies had exhausted themselves slaughtering each other. Even the fact the Sky Pony had seemingly gone mad and submitted themselves to a woman of all things. He chuckled, rolling his eyes at that piece of stupidity and weakness; women were for fucking, and tending the hearth...not leading warriors into battle.

Just like those fools in Silverymoon who for the moment were only spared his conquering them and chaining their 'Lady' to the foot of his throne by the fact of their magical wards. Soon he would gather the tools needed to beach those wardings...and then he and his warriors would breach the walls of the pathetic weaklings who lived there, kill the men, rape the women, and turn the strongest children into proper warriors. Ones worthy of the Griffon Tribe, while the rest would be culled or be useful only as slaves...

He sighed, clearing his head of glorious future things before striding out of his great longhouse with his house-guards at his sides. Raising his arms into the air and emitting a might roar he brought the attention of the great gathering of warriors, drinking, feasting and enjoying the benefits of the captured loot and female slave from the past year's raids to build their strength. Above the sky rumbled, hinting at the coming storm in the distance that would surge from here and begin the tale of his rise to glory.

"MIGHTY SONS OF UTHGAR! BRAVE STORM BORN FOLLOWERS OF TALOS! HEAR ME!" he roared to the crowd waving his sword in the air. Thousands of warriors, and more yet coming at the prospects of loot and chance for revenge upon those who'd betrayed the Tribes, the Orcs, and all the other filth who might oppose them. Even many hundreds of weaklings who pretended long they were of the city-folk rather than the only true humans upon the world; for none but the Uthgardt were fit to rule the lands, the rivers, and the skies. Survival of the fittest, and the mightiest must rule the weak as Talos demanded; so it was, and so would it be.

"TALOS! TALOS! UTHGAR! UTHGAR! TALOS!" the throng roared back as more and more of them were roused from the slumber, or from drinking and feasting, blades and spears thrust upwards into the sky.

"BRAVE BATTLE BROTHERS! VICTORY WILL BE OURS IN THE DAYS TO COME! FOR WE ARE STRONG! WE ARE THE STORM! AND OUR TIME IS NOW! FOR TALOS..."

--

[The Mottled Servant of the Lord of Bones]

He allowed a faint smile, nodding as the letter signalling agreement to his proposal now burning in the fire of his towers hearth. It was good to have something going his way this day, after the disastrous setbacks of the last few tendays; the damnable drow and dwarf having escaped his grasp, then having his beautiful creation Bok turned against him...

Slamming his arm off the armrest of his chair released some of the rage he felt at that little trick played upon him by the Harpers. How fucking dare they? HOW DARE THEY?

Did they not know WHO HE WAS? WHAT HE WAS GOING TO DO THEM WHEN HE CAPTURED THEIR AGENTS?

He took a breath in an effort to calm himself, today had been good and his plans were advanced. Thinking on those who had sent his Bok back to the Tower to try murder him while signing a ribald song about his manhood brought nothing but rage. And rage was the mind-killer that blunted his greatest asset; his brilliant and logical wizardly mind. They all thought him beaten? That they could mock him in the Halls of his own Tower?

'Well Arkhlem we shall see about that now shan't we?' he thought focusing on the positives; his plans were still in motion, adventurers and mercenaries who distrusted the bloody Lich, or for whom the coin was right, had assembled themselves for a great raid upon Mirabar. He smiled again, softly to himself as he sat back into his chair; or at least that was what his wretched enemies within the Host Tower would believe. Nor know that High Captain Yethric the Cannibal was his to command, and his crews and part of the Guard would follow where their captain ordered.

Soon the damnable Lich and his little coterie of followers would move southwards, at least once they creature was sure that he himself had departed with the raiding party. Everyone watched everyone in the Tower, and that was fine...for he had new useful tools (who thought him a friend the fools) now to aid him in his task despite losing his glorious Bok. Oh, and his apprentice Sydney too of course, but she was inconsequential and there were plenty of young ambitious idiots to choose from within the lower ranks to replace her. The only frustrating part was training them in enough to learn to shut up and do what he told them without question.

He stared into the flames 'Victory will be mine this day, and to the victor goes the spoils. I, after, all am best choice to lead the Host Tower to ever greater power..."

--

When: Early Summer, 1356 Dale Reckoning

Where: Watering hole, South-East of Valley of Sparta

March south to head north, sounds crazy but makes sense in the current context. Been a busy few weeks since returning to the valley; sadly I was back just in time to leave again, beyond a little time with Oggy, the children, and the rest of the household of course. War has finally come and there's been word spreading of clashes between the northernmost clans under our aegis and those of most forward raiding clans serving under the Furry Fucker. Or to be more accurate perhaps the forward raiding parties of the clans on our side ran into the forward raiding parties of their side on the other side of the river Mirar; ie. bad people doing bad things, but doing so farther north than usual because the warfare has wrecked the normal raiding ground nearer the Crags south of the river.

Essentially it's for us to ride herd on the warbands coming up from the south so they make it the rough location that Darth Phargk and all the rest of us beneath him point them in. Well, that's his orders; my view, along with Old Breyjuk and Zah, is to ensure this lot of dangerous idiots be kept far away from our valley and stronghold so nobody causes trouble. I suspect people imagine these things are great organised marching columns heading north to battle – long story made short, they ain't. They are marching, some in crude order and others in a 'drunken brawl waiting to happen' format where those of us who are organised have to urge them along with combinations of threats and bribes. Not entirely easy when there are thousands of these barbarous well-armed gombeens under our banners.

Due to that we've established something of a 'relay' with the Moonblades, Red Axes and Night-tombs; or those clans who represent organisation in some manner. Me though? Yeah I'm the enforcer and logistics side of this giant clusterfuck for our dear High Shaman while he shouts and rants other people while I shout and rant at the various lower end chiefs and their 'officers' with my merry band of leg breakers. Several of whom are from allied clans who are actually Legbreakers in service of the Legbreaker; yes our priesthoods don't get along (understatement of the week there) but we our respective roles in Hordes tend towards this activity. They have their uses, especially for the more moronic of our forces and they're only too happy but to start smashing up 'allied' clan-orcs on command. All very much an Ecumenical affair between our respective priesthoods let's say.

Another reason perhaps I'm not overly bothered by having to lag in the middle to the rear of our might army is the fact supply lines are a thing for a more professional military force. Which we sorta fall into now despite appearances to the contrary, as do the Moondblades...and Red Axe traitors despite my distaste of the back-stabbing bastard Kurnak, so an organised advance suits our combined warbands and allows us to secure small crudely fortified strong-points for over-watch and prevention of rearward attacks as we march. From those ever so friendly Uthgardters hovering to the east of us, also slowly moving northwards in much more concentrated and organised formation that many of ours. Not as numerous, but there are still thousands of them from scout reports and brief scrying attempts; when they weren't blocked of course. Scry blocking by better-trained armies being far more common that I'd expected really.

Anyway, ours is a mostly orcish horde – but we've got the likes of our Auxlia (human, kobold, goblin or otherwise) and a similar less organised band that the Red Axes and Night-tombs have seemingly copied in the time being. Then we have mercs, flotsam, raiders, and murder-hobo equivalents; gnolls from a few clans seeking loot, goblin slave-warriors, a few bands of hobgoblins paid by the Moonblades and a handful of other smaller clans. Unlike Jernak's tribe those ones are trying to bump up their numbers with slaves and mercenaries so they'll get a greater degree of the 'glory' (read loot) when/if we defeat that Furry loving bastard coming down from the Spine. Bloody nuisance that lot are in truth; you've shout at one, and then shout at the 'ally' of theirs to get the general idea into thick skulls. There's already been an annoying amount of low level 'attrition' let's say due to that sort.

On the other hand, we are the bringers of booze and other usually hard gotten things like that on campaign so we get listened to alot when that's on the table I've noticed. Course it means we've to guard it as well, so its a tradeoff; but even amongst our own forces it's a usual reward tool along with the literal stick, or if need be even more literal fiery sword of punishment. Or lightning bolt of Missy as one poor dumb schmuck discovered when he hassled our 'honoured guest' in the position of Qilue Doom Drow and her naked dancing priestess; Missy and Lua, and technically Tris too I suppose, have guard 'duty' on them let's say. Or to be more accurate they are on 'keep them from kill us all at the same time as guarding them' duty. Keeping Qilue away from Darth Phargk is also a priority considering they insisted on bringing Lara here with us; ie Phargk's 'I broke her for shits and giggles' drow prisoner, and now utterly terrified of him. Fun times that when I'm around him most of the bloody time.

Despite that my resident 'VIP' and her posse have been so far willing to follow along without causing difficulties; save for deciding that now was the time to dance in the nip beneath a full moon. Yes its rather pleasant to watch in that regards, but not when you've to play security to a bunch of gods be damned orcs and half-orc auxilia watching it. Or with Darth 'Fer da Geds!' Phargk running about trying to get this herd or very ornery cats to the battlefield; honestly, I'm half-convinced that Qilue, or maybe at Lua's suggestion, just to see me run about like a headless chicken trying to keep the lid on everything. Obould, and my own two oh so glorious clan chiefs may find the whole thing rather amusing and interesting – but they get to sit around and drink while I attempt to keep order in some manner.

For now I say Slan go Foil, another night approaches which means more marching to get organised and threats to shout at people while my escort glowers behind me along with Rose. Bye for now.

--

When: Early Summer, 1356 Dale Reckoning

Where: Edge of the Crags/Start of the Plains south of River Mirar

Hasn't been much time to write sadly, and this is as much about clearing my head and putting things into order for myself as any great urge to write honestly. Mostly because we've found a decent 'spot' to encamp for a while so we can bang heads and get into something resembling fighting order – and insure us and that crazy lady who leads the Uthgardt don't come to blows. Because wow is she a fanatic at heard, just like Darth Phargk of course, but wow; and I say that as one of the clerical myself. Holy Crusade against Evil is written across her face when we talk, and we're down as the Evil part – just less Evil than the other guys and she's given her sacred oath not to attack till after the fighting is down. Well a Ten-day after the fighting is done and then I expect 'charge those fucking orcs!' will the order of the day.

As such I'd be alot less happier if it weren't us and the Red Axes on the flank facing said bag of sunshine 'Dawn is Coming' crazy; ie the backstabbing Red Axe bastards, and all while I 'mind' Qilue Doom Drow and Obould Future Orc King while I'm at it. After all I am the bloody right hand of the evil overlord orc shaman who gets all the shit jobs like trying to hold the flank against crazy humans, hold down the dangerous beings, and of course kill dudes for not following orders with my merry band of quasi-Paladin not-so-Secret Police. Truly, I am creating the Greater Good by being that Necessary Evil of Order and Discipline within the bloodthirsty ranks that make up this here army. Or horde really; we've everything from organised fighting formations like our own to barely coherent berserkers and then vassals only here because we threatened them into it. Guess who's on the frontlines for the coming clash eh?

That aside the clash is coming, and coming soon – Wyrmog's horde is either fording the Mirar, or has already done so. Probably a little bit of both I expect considering my own personal nightmare of cajoling this lot forward, in between training/strategy session with the Dark Blood Magic Teaching Shaman of Doom and his bloody Gods gifted Staff of Magical Whatever Doom. Sleep let's say has been a hard thing to come by of late, though I'm making myself get the required rest the next few days to ensure all my spells are in order for the coming fight. Same as with Missy and all the Battlestaves currently in the field with us; they, the Hwacha, and the four 'Magic Tanks' or Battlewagons as their called I hope will make a difference in the clash between us and the barbarian. Oh and Magical Bells that should have been Canons too, but they'll only be useful against Demons, Undead and possibly magical attack – though they do help with rituals, assuming we'd be granted time to perform one of course. Maybe pre-battle?

For the moment the 'Grand Battle Plan' is to advance down from the hills; Uthgardt scum on the left flank, with us and the Red Axes opposite them in the centre with the Moonblades, and then Phargk's Night-tombs just to side of that along with the cavalry reserve behind. Mostly so the big bulk of our barbarian allies on the right flank who're either untrustworthy, trusthworthy but charge happy, or just uncivilised nutters looking for a bloody battle to sate themselves. Glory and all that mumbo-jumbo. Me personally? I'd settle for surviving and winning that battle over some nebulous honour smashing in each other's skulls. Anyway in preparation for ensuring that I'm leaving behind a decent sized 'garrison' up here in the pass back into the Crags, and a Moonblade one in the westward one; then establishing a fortified camp down slope for field treatment of injuries and the like.

Where I can stash Qilue and her lot at that; they don't really want to fight per se, even if they say they do. But they will heal, and healers there free up more of my acolytes to be here with me in the fighting. So win-win there in my view in regards that situation. Old Breyjuk is in command of our 'Banner' of the 'Horde' – then Jernak of the Moonblades the one ahead of us and to the side, then Phargk, and then...etc, etc, etc, along the battle line. Basically to make it short; Phargk is the overall in charge dude, then it gets blurry – technically I'm his second in command, but that'd be too much power in one hands so Kurnak is technically that, but he serves under Old Breyjuk and Zah in the 'Banner'...

So yeah – it's organised than I'd like, but basically I'm in charge of making sure people follow orders and make it to the front, Old Breyjuk and Zah command the part of the battlefield given to us, and Phargk commands those like them. Oh, yeah, and I'm in charge of keeping the Uthgardt on task and ensuring that they don't catch us by surprise when the attack us, or when the Red Axes inevitably betray us. Because Orcs can't have nice things because of stupid shit like that; interacting with all this chaotic stupid just reminds me of how much I want to keep beating it out of those within my clan and sphere of influence. So, on that aggravating note I'm to rest now as Rose is reminding me it's time to do so, and that Missy is already in bed with Lara nearby, and I'm to hurry up before Lua arrives and starts being Lua. So Slan for now, best hurry before bestest Drow gets a lightning bolt for grabbiness.

--

[Krowluc 18]

Plains south of River Mirar

"Keep in-formation, don't get lost, and follow orders and we'll get through all this. Now form up and let's get moving" he rumbled out as loud to get the general idea, again, into the thick-headedd idiots who made up the Company right now. Or at least it felt that way due to the vast horde of orc clans they found themselves amongst, and the general shout-shout-threat-kill that such 'interactions' always brought with a mixed race Free Company like his. Especially with the idiots who tried sleep with every female they came across, the thieving one that slept males before stealing all their stuff if they pissed her off, and the Gnome Wizard with delusions of grandeur running about a bunch of equally arrogant, or just stupidly savage, orcs.

'And there are bloody lot of'em here ain't there?' he thought as he spurred his armored warhorse forward and surveyed the large numbers of the tribals walking forward off too their left rear, and the other few hundred cavalry now starting to go into motion to their right as his Company of riders was. It was a cloudy and overcast day, with the irritating misty shower over the past few hours, but the ground was firm and not a muddy morass to slow down their mounts like he's feared a few days ago with that heavy downpour. With a wave of his hand be motioned the three 'banners' of the Company into motion; his own heavier armored riders in the centre, Thieving Kyras behind with the mixed ground, and Bareyara's ahead with the ones who'd count as horse-archers or scouts.

Nimmil, magical support, was with his 'banner' despite not being really in the medium-heavy cavalry role, but her powers of destruction and illusion certainly helped to make up for her stature and limited armor. With a glance he confirmed she, and the rest of the banner, had their mounts trotting forward at a steady pace he focused on the mixture of trees, hollows and hilly-hollows that lay before them. He grumbled silently as they moved forward at a steady pace past groups of orcs marching, or a few groups sitting and resting around trees or campfires, annoyed at the chaotic advance of this flank of the horde. Or maybe just at the problems of this lot rushing far ahead of the Spartan clan that he now served and the other more disciplined marching clans coming from that direction.

There was simply so many he noted as they moved forward past several hundred better armed and armored clan warriors with a mixture of halberds, pikes and the like; as they cajoled a bunch of less well-armed goblins forward with shouts. Several waved blades and spear-points threateningly at his boys and girls, so he gave them an equally crude gesture and some insults back in return. Still groups were starting to form up somewhat at the threats from the combined cavalry force of several that his Company was a small part of. The Moonblades Chieftain had been sent forward with them to try and get both some order into this mess, and to get them to slow them somewhat. In terms of numbers there had to be several thousand orcs tribal warriors trundling forward on the left flank and...

'And the better fighters like ourselves are moving slower because of having to watch those heavily armed Uthgardt fanatics on our right flank, and having to bring on wagons and keep discipline' he thought with a shake of his head as a rider in the markings of Red Axe Clan-orc came towards him after catching sight of the banner held in young Egar's hands. With a wave of his gauntleted hand he motioned for him to be let through by the other riders of his banner as hooves thudded off the ground in a thunder-like rumble from all around them amidst the rolling plains.

"What?" he queried loudly glancing at the veteran seeming orc riding the large stallion as he came to trot his mount alongside Krowluc's at the head of the centre banner of the Spartan cavalry. Neither the Shaman or Clan Chiefs were happy at them being sent forward, but something had to be done as best he could tell before the two hordes came to blows. The chainmail and helmeted orc pointed forward, shield resting on his back alongside a bow and a long spear resting on his other, free, shoulder as it held the reins while he gesticulated.

"Wez ta get forwar, and boss fellar sez yer to take pointz whilez wez sorts outs brawls betweens Nosepunchers and Uthren clans. Sez theyz rans innas enemies and took fittin' over das loots"

Krowluc groaned softly "Of course they are, Warlord Wyrmogs clans?"

The scout shook his head "Nahs, humies and elfies and dats likes sums yers lots. Theys was raidins ones them farms thats beens abandons boss sez, ors wats dey tells boss whenz Iz theres fore fittin starts. Bosses wannas ye scoutz farwar and sez whats cans sees thens wez links ups. Mez own clans and Nite-tums doins da sames on others sides"

"Right, tell him we'll do that..." answered back gruffly and the messenger orc rode off back the way he came as Krowluc motion at one of his own riders "...Dargunk, go forwar..., dammit now he's got me doing it...I mean forward and tell Bareyaras the rest of cavalry other than ourselves and one or two others are being held up to fix another bloody brawl. So any sign trouble he's to send word. Got it?"

"Sure thing Captain" his own messenger orc answered spurring his mount forward and riding quickly out to where the forward 'banner' was advancing in a loose line of skirmish order off in the distance. Nimmil, of course, voiced her own opinion having overheard the exchange.

"Adventuring band?"

Krowluc gave a non-committal gesture with his right hand "Or bandits, or some idiots who decided to hang about longer than sense would tell them too. Whatever the case it's another problem to add to the rest, so scout forward and see how bad the clashes are so we can get back to Warchief Breyjuk. You noticed?"

A faint grunt "Aye, we're getting bit farther forward than you'd like? And we know there have been clashes already between forward raiding clans of our northern orcish warlord?"

He nodded, though the open helm on his head likely hid that mostly beyond a faint incline up and down but a moment "Hmmm, Wyrmog and his lot are supposed to have forded the river considering we're having clashes and this lot are surging forward to meet them. Its gonna be a big mess of a battle looks like to my eyes, and the Bosses are still a nights march behind. More if they got slowed by that swamp ground, now let's keep moving and see what we can see"

The land around here was more scrub, with occasional clusters of trees, as the skies slowly continued to darken above them as another misty rain began to fall to his irritation and reducing visibility with night not far off from the looks of it. He sighed unhappily, it seemed the fact these idiots had run over a few raiding bands had dragged over half the blood horde forward it felt like despite efforts to the contrary. Tugging at the reins, and motioning with a hand, he brought his mount and directed the rest column around the trees and scrubs before them. Ahead of them, he could see Bareyaras had brought his own line to a halt, waiting in position while one of them rode back towards him with word.

Problematic word it seem; several allied warbands were retreating back towards them having clashed evidently with other enemy clans. Thought it was more 'fleeing rapidly' than anything resembling falling back for regrouping or seeking allies. Coming forward he reunited and formed up the Company just as the advancing 'victorious' enemy warbands came forward out of the increasing gloom of the rains, and coming night. Ambush didn't seem likely as they came forward in something resembling a formation he saw, so he instead sent some of his riders to gather several of the warbands that they'd passed, and to warn the ones idling around like bloody idiots. So instead they waited, pulling back behind a hollow in the earth; watching as the numbers of enemies coming forward increased and waiting as allied ones came forward...

'There we go, charge on in you idiots...and time for us to move' he thought to himself as several hundred of said 'allied warbands' took the warning as an excuse to charge forward a short while later, matched by the advancing enemies. Screaming at each other like howling idiots he noted as the two groups charged into each other with surprising exuberance while shouting warcries. Motioning with hand gestures he brought the Company up into the faint drizzle as they came out of the cover they'd been using, remounting where needed, and then moved forward in a wedge formation with the heaviest armored like himself at the spear-point of the wedge. Spears and lances lowered around him, just like he had lowered and braced his own, the warhorn sounding out at the last moment before the slammed into the flank of the enemy warbands...

...sending them screaming off in defeat at the sudden attack. Horns rang out again in recall, for his riders at least as the 'allied' infantry charged after their foe or began to butcher any injured and unable to flee properly. He frowned off into the gloom as watched the shapes on the darkening horizon. Still a distance away, but coming forward like a dark tide interspersed with flickers of light, came the vast wave of the Warlord Wyrmog's vast Northern Horde. He grunted...time to get back to the leadership of the clan, and to the rest of the cavalry further back. To his eye this solid mass was going to smash over this flank of the out of position army he found himself a part of like a mountain avalanche...

--

[Zahgorim 25]

Plains south of River Mirar

"So he's charging forward here..." Zahgorim queried squatting down over the map made upon the earth by the shamans at Karg's direction. After persuading the Ancient One of course, but using their magics to give a complete view and scouting of the battlefield was worth several bags of gold coins he found as the illusionary armies clashed amidst the faint chanting of the shamans with 'familiars' as they called them "...and then we are coming from here"

"Aye, looks like those useless bastards are being cut apart after chargin' on ahead of us like that" one of them grumbled, from one of the smaller allied clans the Jade Hawks but his name eluded Zahgorim as Old Breyjuk stood just beside him along with the other warchiefs gathered in this wing of the horde. The Old One stood quietly for the moment looking imperious, allowing them all to offer opinions while Karg threatened any who offered opinions too strongly. Really that was trying to keep those idiots alive on Karg's he'd found; that Ancient Shaman was utterly terrifying and would terrible, terrible, things to those that got in the way.

"They'll tear apart that lot, and that's near half the Horde as well..." Jernak of the Moonblades muttered with a nod at the map "...we charged them a few times before they came in, and they were standing ground before we came back here. But it's bloody over there, and this just shows we're been pushed back just like we'd feared earlier on when I brought word. What's worse that lot here..." he motioned at the other clans making their way rather leisurely forward behind them in their thousands "...are still a distance away, and it'll take time to get'em moving forward in a mass"

Zahgorim frowned as others offered, stupid, opinions on what to do next as he judged that the Warlord's Horde would sweep forward and crush those clans on their right flank over the course of the night. Crush them, but be bleed badly in the doing so...and only if they didn't do anything. Charging blindly forward as they were now to join the fray, while appealing with their blood up and all that, would only get them butchered and not do anything to account for those blasted Uthgardt on their flank with all that heavy cavalry. Heavy horse...he frowned thinking...heavy horse that would be very useful if they could be induced to charge north of that marshy-hilly ground near a creek or springs of some sort. At least from what the scouts were calling it, and less than likely to happen since the Warlords warriors either were, or would be, on the ground by now and moving forward. But, still, it was an idea...

"If we charge forward...us, Moonblades, Red Axes, Jade Hawks, Knucklbreakers I mean...in ordered battle lines, spears and shields locked..." he pointed out into the moonlit darkness of the lands ahead of them where the battle raged "...we swing left into the Warlord's Horde and take this line from here to here on the higher ground, marsh in front, and hold it while some else gets lot behind us to hurry the hells up. Best happens the Uthgardters move forward and trouble Wyrmog while he throws everything at us for cutting into the middle of his horde like that. Worst...it still stops them chargin' us from behind, and he'll have stop his advance to stop our attack into his centre"

"Big risk youngin' but'll get his attention true..." Old Breyjuk rumbled as Zahgorim pushed himself back up to stand and others grunted support or disagreement to the plan he'd put forth "...only bad spot is been outnumbered anywhere from three to one, or up to eight to one, when chargin' on in. I like those odds, don't ye Chief Jernak? Chief Kurnak?"

Karg was giving him a look, and he shrugged in reply, as the other warchiefs voiced their agreement that agreed that they did indeed like the plan...even if they didn't. It didn't really do to show cowardice right now when defeat was looming on the horizon after all, and no one else seemed to have any other plan on offer other than 'someone else charge in', 'CHARGEEEEE!' or 'lets stay here and wait for 'em to come fer us!' really. In his own humble opinion this was the best of bad plans available; move forward with the best fighting clans, slam into the centre and take the most defensible ground. From there they could hold it, put Karg's toys on it, and then kill everything that tried to take it back. Simple!

'Or simple in the way of probably getting us killed if it goes horribly wrong' he admitted to himself, but giving a confident nod to Karg, who sighed and speaking quietly to the ancient Holy One who listened a moment before nodding towards Zahgorim and Breyjuk. Something, combined with that unnerving black and silver staff thudding off the ground, which caused the others to cease their grumbling words in the brief time that had passed as the marching columns moved by below. The Old One's cold, calm, and gruff rumbling voice rang out in the cold night air as it seemed a decision had finally been reached; about time too Zahgorim found, the longer they waited the worse this would guess.

"Unless any of you have any better ideas then we shall do just as the young warchief has suggested as he has offered his own clan as point of the spear..." silence greeted the response, and the Ancient Holy One waited a moment before waving into the night towards where the battle was "...then there will be no wasting of time now blood has been spilled. Breyjuk of the Sparta Clan will lead his clan and those of the Moonblades, Red Axes, Jade Hawks, Shadow Bloods and their...Auxlia, forward and drive the foe before them. Jernak of the Moonblades, you shall take all those with mounts and follow in reserve to them. Watch the Uthgardht, charge the Heretics when needed, and I shall summon up the rest of the Horde to blood and battle as you charge forward and secure this land for the Horde. Now Go! All of you! To Battle, for Victory in the Name of the Gods!"

Zahgorim gave a growling salute like all the others present, banging gauntleted fist into the chest of his plate armor. Karg spoke a few more moments with the Old One, before giving another nod and saying something before striding forward to Zahgorim and Old Breyjuk as they made their way back towards the waiting ranks of their warriors "I hope to the heavens above that this plan of yours works, because charging into the thickest of the fighting probably wasn't up there on my list of things we should do"

"That's cuz always tryin' to make the enemy come to you, or strike from ambush Karg..." he answered as their escorts fell in around them and all around them the sounds of horns and drums the air once again "...don't have time to think or do anything fancy here. Charge in, take the ground, and then you can do your thing of killing them with magic and arrows. Now, those War-Wagons of yours ready to use?"

He nodded "Yes, all four of them. You want them at the front?"

"Aye, and your Battlestaves and Warswords at the front with the heavy squads an' our banners; I want to bash through them before they can even react, we can setup the Hwacha and archers once we breakthrough. We hit hard and without mercy, it'll be a surprise to the Warlord at least"

"Yeah attacking three thousand odd warriors at ten or more tens to come as a surprise usually..." his friend grumbled causing him to smile faintly at the tone "...we send the kobolds and goblins forward as skirmishers first?"

"Uh-huh, they can screen us while we move forward spear and shield..."

--

[Karguk 46]

Plains South of River Mirar

The rain was pattering down on my helmet as booted feet marched in unison over the ground as the weather turned for the worse the clouds hide the moon and stars above in the sky. Shield resting over my shoulder for the moment, I waved my blade in the air, indicating forward with it along with a shout to keep moving in formation as the ranks moved to battle with shield and spear. A steady advance, one foot after another as the lines moved relatively slowly through the damp and overcast night; harder on certain Auxlia than us Orcs with our better night vision, but they still kept formation as drums and horns thudded out to coordinate movements.

And perhaps make us seem more intimidating as our forces began to encounter resistance to our mad advance into the Furry Fucker's doom stack of warriors. I reckoned we were about three thousand strong, between our clans, the Auxlia, and the cavalry advancing with us under Chief Jernak; with other groups watching our flank against any Uthgardt surprise attack. Zah had this crazy idea of charging right in the flank of Wyrmog's mass advance and driving his warriors off of the rough ground overlooking an area with a creek and marshy land in front of it.

From their we'd kill as many of the Furry Fucker's warriors as we could while attracting his attention away from right flank of our army that he was rapidly pushing back towards the hills. Or killing them where they stood in a bloody melee not a few miles away from us right now, thought the terrain and misty rain hid that part of the battle from my eyes. Right now my part was to keep the Auxlia, my personal guard, and the armored pike-orcs of the clan moving forward; killing and driving off small, confused, bands of enemies that came through the skirmish line ahead of us. Rose kept in close to me, magic helping with her sight in the darkness, as the battle chant began again even over the sound of rain pattering off of armor, shields, and helmets.

Zah was on my right, and then the blocky ranks of the Moonblades on my left as the faint sounds of fighting flickered to ear, before fading away for a time, before steel on steel came again in the distance. A gout of flame erupted from the rumbling War-Wagon-Tank ahead of me; followed by screams as flaming figures appeared in the night ahead of our ranks. For a time – for they were soon falling to ground from arrows, or spearhead thrusts, into the bodies of those enemy orcs not turning and fleeing from the sight of massed ranks emerging from the mists in front of them. I found myself shouting again for to keep moving forward, to not break ranks, and to drive them before us; now as not the time for screwing up the training beaten into my clan's ranks these past few years.

And with each step through the rain; the cacophony of war played all around with drums and horns, war-cries and battle-chants, and the always the sound of shouted commands, booted feet and clinking armor in motion through the night. Coordinating such an advance was a rather noisy affair, strategic surprise might be there in some manner but by now word had to be filtering back to the Furry Fucker that we were coming forward in strength once more. With the crappy weather it wasn't likely knew how much strength of course, unless he'd scouted ahead like us with magic, winged familiars, and the more competent goblin scouts. I almost snorted at that; competent and goblin rarely belonged in the same sentence I'd found, but it seemed you could train discipline into them same as any orc.

A body on the ground went by me with each step, crushed into the increasingly damp earth by the hundreds of feet marching over the dead enemy clan-orc ahead of me. Others lay scattered here and here; the burning enemies it seemed, their screams ended and flames extinguished...before vanishing behind me. There wasn't even time to feel sickened by the sight, or smell, just forward-forward-forward – ever forward and voices shout-singing out for the blood of the foe. Even without a Chant, or Battle Meditation as I liked to call it, it was like being a cog in a machine. Or perhaps a pebble in the rockslide the advance of Step-Step-Step continued in the face of only scattered and confused resistance at the moment. At least what seemed minor resistance as bodies appeared and disappeared with each step with slowing us or even faltering the Song.

Rose tapped my side, with a glance I saw that she was motioning that Missy was pointing to the slight change in direction of those on our right. Orders shouted out of my mouth, sword waving; then those orders repeated like an echo up and down the line from dozens of other throats even as the battle chant remained on unbroken as the blocks shifted direction slightly again. Off to the side drums bang and horns called out over the pattering of rain; a roar erupting from hundreds of lips as the foe seemingly drew near in numbers. Supported moments later as kobold commandos began dashing back through our lines, not panicked but clearly retreating for enemy forces they could not move around or through. There was no change in our lines though; spears, pikes, halberds and billhooks remained ready over the forward ranks of the shield-wall and the Step-Step-Step continued inexorably forward...

"&*%&&&%%" an unintelligible roar came over the soft wind and now pouring rain as out of the misty darkness ahead of us hundreds of screaming warriors charged forward. Swords and axes waved bravely in hands, battle-cries on lips, as the great wave rolled towards us to smash up against the blocks of infantry to the front of sides of me. The energy and noise of the charge was like a ripple flowing through our lines such was the impact, faltering the battle chant as grunts and swears joined the chorus, backwards pressure applied for just a moment...

...then was gone and Step-Step-Step became Step-Kill-Step-Kill-Step as the Shield-wall held like a wall of stone with methodical rhythm spears thrust over them to drive into bodies on the other side. The sound of metal on metal, and on wood mixed with the screams and sounds of tearing flesh joined the symphony of death and destruction. Enemies fell to these spear thrusts, or some simply died crushed against shields or by stabbing swords as the mass behind them drove them up against the advancing shield-wall with barely space to breathe let alone swing a weapon. Or simply stumbled, fell, or just pushed to the ground and trampled beneath marching feet as bodies as well as damp earth passed beneath me. One twitched near me, Rose smashing her mace into that orcish head to ensure death even as the ever constant words to advanced came from my lips.

Arrows and crossbow bolts flew overhead despite the rain damp bowstrings causing problems to add to the carnage of our advance. It was automatic now, a mechanical thing as weapons were brought to bear to slaughter those before us and pull our own injured back along the lines to be healed by those assigned to that task as roles were performed. For now, myself and the second line, the blocks of infantry remained uncommitted as the first ranks smashed forward and left a trail of blood and carnage behind them and we trailed behind eliminating any stragglers who tried breaking through our ranks. Which was...pitifully few as the roar of battle enveloped me, and it became a struggle to think beyond the here and now, only on directing my warriors up the slopes ahead of us and kill anyone and anything that tried to get in our way.

...horns called, drums beat out loud in a shifting cadence...

My blade, aflame and pushing magic into my voice to shout out "Halt Line! Second Rank Forward, Brace the First!"

Now upon the sloping rough ground I could see, rain or no rain, as lighting flashed in the distance before rolling thunder announced its flash moments later. Rank upon rank on either side had advanced, torn and bloodied but we now stood overlooking the marshy ground of a river and creek while our banners flapped despite the damp and cold as the wind picked up. Below hundreds, thousands, of enemy warriors and smaller figures milled about in a melee as on their other side banners like our own flapped amidst roaring warhorns even over the storm. Behind our foes rallying themselves below is lay the marshy, swampy waters, separating them from the great mass of their allies off in the distance. Reinforcements who would be here within the hour I judged as the cadence, heard even over the storm, changed again and my mouth shouted out new commands...

"AUXLIA SWING RIGHT! RESERVES BRING UP THE WAGONS AND FORIFTY WHILE THE FIRST AND SECOND RANK ADVANCE! FORWARD! SHOW NO QUARTER! DRIVE THEM BEFORE US!"

...reinforcements that would not arrive in time to stop us from killing every one of the enemies immediately before us in the bulge between our lines...

--

[Missasri 27]

Heights above Bitter Blood Creek

It was a race of sorts now she found, shouting at some human Auxlia to keep moving, to stack the bodies of dead orcs up like an impromptu wall of sorts while several of her Karg's acolytes frantically cast the most wards and funeral rites against necromancy upon them. Not that they'd last long, but they should last out the current fight at least she figured as the rain continued, turning the ground into a muck that clung that now was splattered over her clothes just like with everyone else as the dark night continued. Focusing on such efforts kept her mind off the horror of the slaughter all around her, the bodies and smell of death and faeces, as everything was used to 'dig in' on this spot of higher and rougher ground against the half-giant's coming army. She had always wanted adventure, and as usual now it had found her in the most raw of manners in all its stink and ugliness.

Crude 'Walls' were being established by bringing up the War-Wagons, both the magical ones and the simpler armored ones, and placing everything amongst them to restrict attacks; from large rocks, to bodies, to already sharpened wooden stakes and spare weapons loaded in said non-magical War-wagons. All the while below hundreds of orcs, kobolds, and auxlia fought in skirmishes with the scattered enemies that charged forward despite the great slaughter of their compatriots not too long ago. Lightning flashed in the distance again, the rolling rumble of thunder roaring over her shouts a moment before she repeated them; placing a shoulder against the wagon with the broken wheel and shoving it onto its side with a dozen others. Behind and above the lightning flash briefly illuminated the box-shapes of the Hwacha as they were wheeled into place, and hundreds more shadowy figures came forward in the darkness with them.

"Missy, don't exhaust yourself doin' that..." Karg's tired voice came to her ears as a hand came to rest on her shoulder. Turning her head back towards him, the raindrops splattering off her but despite that she gave a faint smile and a nod in reply "...come on, we need to get back up there before a big attack comes in"

He motioned at one of the orc warriors nearby dressed in better armor of a 'Captain' - or maybe just a 'Centurion' with the dark and mud - and gave orders as he guided Missasri back up the slope as their bodyguards watched everything warily as ever "Once the defences are prepared the Auxlia and Janissaries will switch with the cohort of clan-orcs and allies that I shall send down! Understood?"

"Understood Shaman!" was the reply along with a fist to heart salute by the orc, then she was moving along with her orcish husband up towards where the line of defenders above were readying yet another set of field fortifications. She glanced curiously at him, getting a nod of acknowledgement and a motion with leather gauntleted hands over the ground around them in the darkness of the seemingly endless night. Darkness filled with noise and motion as hundreds of figures went about completing shouted commands in orcish; even amongst those not orcish in nature like herself, or Rose who hurried over to Karg's other side and walked with them.

"I'm moving the reserve banner up to the front, everyone's exhausted after fighting their way through to here and dawn isn't too far away despite appearances. A brief rest by not being on the immediate front-line is all we can afford, so that's why we're switching out the front and rear-lines"

"Are they coming back soon for an attack then?" she asked, glancing behind her though not seeing very far due to the raining, clouds, and dark of night. The sounds of fighting drifted on the night winds, but it was faint and weak compared to the other sounds all around her, and of the rain; something she was well aware of as it had soaked through much of her robes and cloth gambeson. Missasri wasn't nervous for some reason, more that she was numb somehow after the brutal and bloody march through rank after rank of howling enemy savages to get to where they were now.

"Their mustering up to try that as best we can tell, the whole line's stopped in we're in some sort of crescent shape, or maybe weird U, up against the centre of that Furry Fuck's Horde. Us at the centre of it, and it's wedge his army apart the scouts and shamans with familiar say; a big chunk chasing off our left flank still, and the rest getting rallied right in front of us...so yeah, they'll be comin' on soon enough. They'll have to really..." Karg answered looking up into the cloudy night sky above "...it'll be dawn soon, and the weather is supposedly clearing too. Don't look like it to me, but grand if it does as we can actually fight in the daylight unlike alot of those feckers on the other side"

"We'll need it...the rain and the bowstrings..." she noted nodding at the box-weapon-things that her orc had created, and the bows and crossbows protected under tarp and cloth as they came into the second defence line just above and behind the first. Even her own magic's effectiveness was cut down somewhat by the heavy rain of earlier, and the lighter drizzle and occasional dying rumble of thunder did little to encourage the fact of walking around with an iron bound staff in hand; beside those in chainmail or heavier metal armor.

"Yeah I know, bloody rain is reducing them to barely effective at all..." Karg grumbled back with a shake of his helmeted head "...but that's why we've got shields and pike-walls too. Oh, and if it stops at least that lot we've trained can presta-tig, presta...make the bowstrings dry with magic quickly enough..."

Striding forward Karg motioned at the approaching figures standing together in a huddle at the top of the 'hill' as Missasri and Rose followed along on either side of him "My Chiefs! What word?"

The older scarred chieftain of the Spartan Orcs grumbled loudly as Missasri waited a little distance away from them as the orcs gestured at the 'magic map' generated upon the earth thanks to the half-dozen shamans sitting in a circle, swaying and chanting softly, around them all. Another one of her orcish husband's strange ideas or 'inventions' – getting the various skills of shaman and mages to combine to give a 'battle-map' as he called it by combining scouting wit familiars, then using mind magic to share with another casting an illusion or a geomantic spell to create the 'map' upon the earth. Despite the waning rainfall the images were clear enough, even with partial hiding of it as Karg came to stand in a rough triad with the other two senior orcs of his clan and her position just behind and to his side. Little figures milled about upon the hill...

'Us I guess...and that lot there are the Warlord's charge coming towards us' she mused at the distinct clusters of figures before them. The cluster to that side there being the Uthgardht savages, and the big bundle on the other side the battle between the 'allied' savages to Karg's orcs and those of the Warlord; considering how far they'd been driven back it was 'allied and losing' for the time being. Blob like clusters in front of them, judging by the words been spoken in rapid-fire between the three orcs were the various elements of the enemy Warlord's horde coming towards them. Luckily in blobs it appeared, rather than as one organised force...though perhaps that was just her hopes rather than actuality...

"...weather's starting to clear..."

Missasri stayed silent, as did the others converging on the spot around the three orcs debating as the Warchief Zahgorim glanced up at the skies a moment.

"Which isn't all good youngin; yeah we get to shoot better, but Fire Giants hate fittin' in the rain. No rain, then we'll have fire been thrown at us too..." the Old Warchief stated-snapped back gesturing at the 'battle-map' and their position bulging forward into the enemy line "...we're gonna take it in the neck not long now. Damned if they got messed up from our attack, shoulda kept gonna..."

"We didn't know what was ahead of us, and bit late know to try get moving again. It'll be dawn soon, hours maybe, thanks'em taking so long to get them organised and charging this way...so he'll charge a big damned waved here and here to try breakthrough us...Karg?"

"Yeah, looks like. Especially if he thinks Phargk is here. Us and the Red Axes probably, but Moonblades are ready too...its gonna get bloody when they do"

"Youngin, it shall be glorious. Now you've told the humans and damned elf-bloods to get out me way and let a real warrior get to spill enemy blood first when they throw themselves unto our blades and spearpoints?"

"Yes my Chief, you'll take the first line, Zah the second and I'll hold the reserve and coordinate with the Red Axes and Moonblades on either flank and..."

Horns cried out in the distance like the thunder of a few moments ago. Karg cursed softly looking off in that direction "...damn, so they are close as the map looks. Thought, hoped, that was just they looking closer than they were"

The old warchief motioned with one hand, and drums and horns began to call out for the skirmishers to fall back and lines to prepare for battle "That's war youngin, enemies don't like to give ya time to get setup to kill'em all sadly. NOW! WARRIORS TO ME! LET'S BUTCHER THESE HERETIC BASTARDS!"

--

[Karguk 47]

Heights above Bitter Blood Creek

"ARCHERS! MAKE READY ARROWS!"

The fighting was ferocious, muddy, and seemingly unending as my arm rose up into the air once again as I shouted out over the terrible sounds of battle. All along the line other voices snapped out in unison, spreading the order along the battle line along with the faint snap of a thousand arrows in hand been brought to bow-strings. On the slopes below me, past impromptu walls of wagons, corpses, warriors, pikes and the ever-present mud, the enemy warriors came screaming up the slope again.

Not the pikes, the end of rain, the hints of the coming dawn, or even the piles of corpses of their comrades that had been left from the first assault discouraged them as they came up battlecries and curses on orcish lips. Heretics they might be, disorganised they might compared to us, but they were Orcs at heart and they'd charge into the fields of slaughter when commanded by strong leaders.

"ARCHERS! DRAW!"

Time...was blurring somewhat, how long we'd been fighting being only judge able by the overrun and destroyed first barricade line and the fact dawn seemed to be on the horizon. Or maybe it was day already and only the ending of the night's rain and lightning had begun to reveal that fact as the cloud cover began to clear in some small manner. Still no breakthrough had been made in our long line so far it seemed, at least I prayed there wasn't and we were taken in the rear despite our precautions.

Just the savage fury rendering our first line useless, forcing us back to the second further up the slope as between great charges the broken barricades were grabbed and made part of that second line. It had become almost mechanical in the tiredness now, watch the charge come forward and up the hill, readying weapons in tired hands as the ranks below us braced themselves spearheads thrust outwards. And I slashed my hand downward as the order erupted again and again from my cold seeming voice.

"ARCHERS! LOOSE!"

Hundreds of arrow shafts, and half as many crossbow bolts, flew through the air in a gliding arc over the bracing lines of pike, shield, and blade down below and into the charging ranks of enemies. Like with the other charges before, the seemingly endless charges in the darkness all night, our volley slammed into the shrieking ranks with savage force; dozens in my line of sight falling dead instantly as they were pin-cushioned, hundreds staggering or falling with arrow-shafts sticking out from unarmored flesh.

But...like with all the others this charge continued as a screaming, shrieking, wave of rage over the bodies of dead, dying, and injured comrades even as the next volley, and the next, slammed into them before they smashed into wall of braced pikes, halberds, and billhooks. 'Archers; Fire at Will!' was my next, barely even thought on, command as I handed over command of that part of the battle to one of old Taugh and called for the second line to make ready. Rose at my side, escort all around me I started prowling up and down the line watching the fighting below for any signs of breaks, or need to send in reinforcements where it was buckling.

"AUXLIA COMPANY MOVE UP AND SUPPORT CHIEF BREYJUKS RANK! JANISASSRY SQUADS JOIN THEM!"

Always the screams of the dying and the injured, mixed with the constant hammer of drums and the bells as the war-chant reignited after a time of tired silence. Faint magic permeated the air at the war-songs matching with the hammering chimes of the blessed bells in the cold morning air as the stiffened our wills and hammered at the hearts of the foe with fear. And above all that the great banner of Illusk flew surrounded everywhere by the banners of my own Sparta clan, the traitorous Red Axes, and the Moonblades on the other side of the besieged lines.

"YOU AND YOU! I WANT WORD ON WHAT'S HAPPENING ON OR RIGHT FLANK! GO!"

It was carnage, pure carnage, yet at the same time a sick game of sorts. Taking out fighters from the lines below when they were injured or too exhausted to fight and rotating in 'fresher' squads. Rinse and repeat, then repeat some more at another point a little later. My role was 'logistics' now as Zah and Old Breyjuk commanded, the old orc at the front and Zah at the top of the hill feeding down his orders and commands as I 'benched' some players and threw in the reserves at the bloodshed; calling for tired healers to help those they could, and to put those they could not out of their misery where they could not. The enemy would fall back, then get a fresh wind of sorts as their wave staggered back before howling forward again...or simply pressed forward by the sheer mass of their allies behind them...

"COMPANY WITH ME! WITH ME! DRIVE THEM BACK! SEAL THAT BREECH NOW!" I roared out at young orc, goblins amongst them clambered over broken barricades and dead bodies of defenders at a spot not more than two hundred metres ahead and below us. Our line there was wavering, dozens dead and others down injured about to join their comrades as I saw the horde on the other side beat at those still standing, trying desperately to break through the wall of spears and death that lay before them. Power filled me as I drew upon the divine might of the Boss, shield bracing and flaming blade igniting with a dozen others as the sun rose in the sky above us for a blood red dawn...

...then the time for calm thought had ended as I roared out in challenged, shield bashing the nearest wild-eyed enemy in the face before slamming the blade into his throat. Around me my personal bodyguard and those squads held in reserve in the second line above came down to join me in the mud, blood, and stink as we butchered those who stood between us and reforming the half-broken 'wall' where needed. Just block with shield, lash out with blade, allow my bodyguards to kill and guard me as I kept Rose as safe as possible as she smashed out with her mace and gave a far too cheerful laugh along with the attack...

...flaming blades struck as armor broke before our blows and looks of horror and fear greeted the descending force that was spearheaded by myself and my Red Branch Knights. Flesh ignited at the touch of white-hot blades, screams filling the air to add to the orchestra of the war songs, drums, horns and bells filling the morning air with its symphony. War was terrible, war was glorious; horrifying and numb as one blow followed another even as the enemies before us tried to pull back from the strikes. Yet were stopped by the mass behind them, one falling and another, helpless to defend themselves as the last, stepped into view to be slashed with blades or stabbed with spear strikes...then...then they were breaking and running...

"I WANT THIS LINE REFORMED HERE! CENTURION OF THIS..." I started shouting at the mass before me as, at least in this small part of the battle, we had earned a temporary respite. One of the wounded orcs, I didn't recognise him but he had the marks and warpaint of a squad-leader, shoved his way painful into my line of view.

"Deads Shaman! Hes, and..."

"Who's the senior amongst ye then?"

No replies, just confused looks; or maybe searching out for said figure and not being able to find. Fine then I figured as there just wasn't time to handle this "Right then, you're in charge of this Company...???"

"Yurch'khat of Uyltic Lord Shaman!"

I nodded, one of the blow-ins to the clan then "Right, now take your Company, or what's left of it, and take a quick rest and make sure to get anyone healed who can be. I want you fighting fit again by the time I return..." I motioned at the collection of Auxlia, human with a few female orc officers, and a bunch of Red Axe clan-orcs armed with a mixture of crude and savage halberds alongside sword-spears things it looked like "...you lot are to take a position here and hold this line am I understood?"

"YES LORD SHAMAN!" echoed out as a runner came down the slope towards me, us, at a rapid pace. I opted to be polite in the 'tell what the feck you want' sort of way as I sheathed my sword once again as the lines around me was hastily reformed; fixing where needed as the near shattered original defenders of this spot hauled themselves upwards.

"What word runner?"

"Shaman! Chief Breyjuk is fallen! Dead Boss! Dead!" he panted out as I snarled out a quiet curse, then almost let out another as he continued "...Chief Zahgorim is taking his position in the line, orders you to take charge at the head of the hill as a large of hobbos and fire-giants are headin' in this direction! Orders, Lord?"

I handed him a potion of stamina, grunting a moment in tiredness "Go ahead of me, order the Hwacha and Ballista uncovered and readied at my command. Summon my wife and the other mages, the mad Harpell ones too, to the top of the hill!"

--