A/N: That's it. I'm taking a break from writing battle scenes, because good lord do they take a lot of time and effort to plan out. Thankfully the climax of this battle will give me an excuse to do just that, while at least creating quality content. Regardless I'm happy that you guys are sticking around, even after the extended update times. It makes what I'm doing all the more worth it.
Ugbar Toof-Toller found it challenging to improve his foul mood, even with the promise of slaughter not far from now. If he'd been with some proper boyz who were drooling at the chance to get to choppin' and smashin'. Instead, he had to make do with what he had. No boys would come with him, so that left the gobbos.
The sorriest gobbos were either desperate, opportunistic, or most cowardly to be press-ganged into this little slaughter of his. Why should they even be scared in the first place? They were goin' against the knight humies, for Gork's sake! And without the knights!
"B-boss Ugbar!" crumpin' hell, this one didn't know when to just shut up! "Y-you sure there be none of the shiny knight humies?"
"Dat's what I eard and dat's what ill' be!" Ugbar grunted. "I got me source, and it says dey'll stay large and clear from us. Nothin' but them dirty stinky humies for us to chop."
"Dat's all well and good." The goblin stammered, trying to make sure his more stunted legs could keep up with the longer striding stomps of his orcish counterpart. All around them was a haphazard, unorganized swarm of goblins that less resembled an army and more of a horde of green that wore makeshift armor, from pointed sticks and pitchforks to rusty swords, axes, and chipped tools that barely passed as anything that could truly harm a man, much less a child.
Still, there was no changing that there was a plentiful amount of these 'weapons, ' much like there was an ample amount of goblins streaming through the field. Just over the horizon were the makings of a ramshackle grouping of mud huts, which would fall to the horde that was approaching it.
"...Still, though." Ugbar made his annoyance known through a large huff coming through his nose, along with the gnashing of his teeth. The goblin chieftain to his right swallowed deeply before daring to speak again. "Some of da boyz, ere' wonderin-
The goblin chieftain quails under a mean red eye from Ugbar. "-About how much teef dey gonna be gettin' I'm sure."
"Erm…y-yes and em…we won't be gettin' many shinies since were not sackin' a town or a city or much else…"
"We'll be gettin' more o' that once we stomp on dese dirt humies." Ugbar meant it, too, as he resisted the urge to simply reach out and crush the chieftain's skull right then and there. It would be so simple and so easy, but keeping the rest of these small and pitiful long-nosed goblins would be harder to corral than he would care to admit. That separated him from the other orcs who were content to serve under the bloated green shit-bag that they called a boss.
Ugbar would have none of it! He would rather gut himself than swallow his orcish pride and serve under that green blob of a boss! It was unnatural! Un-Orcish even! It made him wonder if Gork n' Mork would will something so…so Un-Orcish!
It was why he was gettin' the teef and shinies that he could from the village of Riffin. He didn't have the boys back then to just take em' full force, but he most certainly would now. Months upon months of bribing goblins with teef or outright beating and threatening them had paid off. Those cowardly chicken-shit humie villagers may have thought they were preventin' a choppin', but now that choppin' was inevitable. It was here, and it was now. There would be no runnin' from it, and Ugbar would see to it. With Goblin Wolf Riders nipping and snarling on the flanks they would make sure those dirty humies wouldn't be goin' anywhere. Ugbar Toof-Toller would have his pound of flesh and teef one way or another, even if this could barely be considered a warm-up.
However, as they got closer, Ugbar and many of the other goblins close to him couldn't help but cringe and wrinkle their noses. This was especially the case for the goblins, given the proportions of their own noses.
"crumpin' hate dis humie village." One goblin grumbled. "Why'd we have to do some choppin' on the village that lives off cow shite?"
Sensing mutinous feelings, another goblin quailed under the gaze of the boss. "You questionin' my decision?"
"N-no-"
"Then shut your trap and keep marchin to get choppin'. If I don't see at least a hundred humie heads on pointy sticks by the end of the day, I'm loppin' some o' your heads to make up da difference!"
The rest of the goblins could tell he meant it too. The complaints were silenced expeditiously, but even Ugbar had to admit that the scent was nauseating. It's why he made sure to have the villagers deliver the teef outside of their shit hamlets. Even Orcish tents were made with bigger pride!
The boss let out a savage grin, salivating at the idea of these weak and poorly-bred humies being butchered like the weaklings that they were. Soon he would have acquired so much teef that even other orcs could not deny how great of a boss he would be. And when he trounced Grom, he'd do all of orcish kind favor and toss that fat green lump of fat into his favorite pot for a grand feast!
Such thoughts of slaughter, conquest and grandeur were temporarily put on hold when dozens upon dozens of small shapes broke through the line of the mud huts, soaring through the air and hurtling toward Ugbar and his goblins horde.
"A-Arrows! Sh-shields up!" The goblin chieftain shouted only to realize that he himself didn't have a shield on account of the long pike he was holding. "A-aw crump! S-someone gimme their shield now!"
"Shank off, get your own!" Another goblin shouted at the chieftain, which lead to bickering and scrambling from the haves and the have-nots of the goblins' shield department.
Ugbar grumbled at the disorganization and once again lamented the fact that he didn't have true boyz to lead this attack but shrugged and held his shield up as he continued to move forward. Arrows or not, he knew that Bretonnian arrows were of the shoddiest quality, and that's why he had nothing to fear-
Ugbar and many other goblins were confused to be greeted not by arrows, but what looked like dozens up dozens of ovular-shaped brown objects. The ripe and pungent smell immediately caused outrage in, Ugbar.
"They…they threw cow shit at us!?" He recognzied that foul scent anywhere. Goblins were openly gagging and shaking their heads in disgust while many were thankful that many of these balls fell short of their target, landing in front of the ramshackle horde rather than within it.
This however, informed Ugbar of many things, chief among them being that the villagers knew they were here!...now granted a horde of greenksins was very hard to miss, but this only created more questions than answers. If they really did know they were here, did that mean their shiny humies here too?
Ugbar shook his head. No. Those shiny humies are too proud to have the dirt humies fire first…sometimes. Depended on the shiny humie. That and they would be hard to miss. He's sure he would have seen them by now.
Just the dirt humies we goin' against. So desperate they throwin' their cow pies at us! Heh. The set on these humies…Hopefuly their teef isn't too rotten n' yellow…aww who am I kiddin', most of these humies can't compare to true orc teef. Theirs is just so yellow and tiny compared to ours! Ah, sod it.
"Move forward you gitz!" Ugbar bellowed shoving forward a couple of goblins and even stepping on one that had been unfortunate enough to fall to the ground in the chaos of the shield chase and falling cow balls. "If you let a pile of cow pies stop you, I'll use your noses to clean my teef!" The goblins gagged, as they moved forward. But, move forward they did, even as yet another salvo of cow ovular cow pies was launched from behind the mud huts of Riffin.
Ugbar was almost disappointed. Like any orc, he wanted a proper fight, and if this was the best that these shit-slingers could offer, then this would be a quick affair. If anything, this worked out better in his favor. For a while, he was sure he'd have to use the wolf boys to corral and cut off any fleeing Humies, but with them clearly making a stand, there was no such need. Now they could just enjoy the coming slaughter in earnest.
And so he and his very motley horde of goblins continued to press forward, navigating through the growing field cow pies that were now practically littering the field with even more of them being launched at the horde. Now that everyone knew what to expect, there was little to fear from the projectiles, save for the goblin that got a face full of the falling dung, crying and cursing at their poor luck.
The greenskins were closing in on the village. Ugbar gripped his chopper tightly. He knew it wouldn't be long now. His blood began to boil, and the classic greenksin adrenaline began to pump into his veins. Soon he would be a true boss. Now he would-
And suddenly, the shit around them exploded.
They weren't conventional explosions in which craters were created or limbs or body parts were severed. Instead, as if in a chain reaction, several of the thrown cow pies began to detonate, releasing a dark and green pungent miasma from within, forming a deep and heavy cloud that was starting to overtake the greenskin army. Cries and shouts of alarm rang out from within the horde as suddenly it became difficult to see in front of anyone.
What was even worse was the smell. The scent that was being released from these still detonating cow pies was permeating and overtaking the senses of the goblin horde, making many of the creatures hack and cough, with even their eyes beginning to water due to many of their senses being overwhelmed. It had become unbearable that many goblins were now moving away from the frontlines, creating several clogged lanes. Some were simply trying to escape this literal shit-show to those who couldn't even tell where they were going.
In short, the ramshackle horde had quickly turned into a ramshackle mob.
Ugbar Toof Toller was not pleased, staring in rage at his disorganized forces even as his own eyes began to water and his vision became blurry.
…
Before he'd had his tussle with the Bastonnians, Lyle had read up on what Bloated Corpses were within Kemmler's Grimoire. Lyle was very fascinated about the suicide bomber mentally these creatures had and even brought them up to Fredericka to possibly use against the Beastslyer.
Sadly his 'mentor' put a rain on his parade for multiple reasons. Firstly, they didn't have the necessary material to make Bloated corpses since many of the materials to make strangely came from the ocean. Secondly, which Lyle found strange was that Fredericka and many of her cohort weren't open to the idea of using an idea originally created by their brethren from the vampire coast.
Curious as to whom she was talking about, Lyle asked Fredericka about it only to brush off the question, saying learning about them was beneath them at the moment, especially since they were nothing more than pirates and pillagers.
Lyle wanted to argue that point saying every advantage should be taken, but he had his thoughts on the upcoming fight, and they wouldn't have had the time to implement these creatures anyways…so he dropped it.
Now though? He was improvising. By casting the same spell on these football shaped cow pies, he achieved less lethal, but nonetheless dibilitating results. Perhaps if he had time to further refine and maybe augment the spell, it could be even more devestating?
"Shit bombs?" Ave asked, cringing her nose.
"Got a better name for em'?" Lyle asked with a wry smile, glad that such bombs were still a ways away from their front lines.
Ave shrugged. "I'unno. Just expected somethin' fancier from a magic slinger like yourself I guess."
"Fair enough. But, be honest, have you ever even met a magic user before?"
"Hm. Good point. But, still. Shit bombs?"
"Don't mind the name me'self!" Jory chortled as he loosened up his throwing arm, along with several other peasants he had handpicked at Lyle's request. "Me and the boys've been doin' a good job at makin' sure they live up to their namesake…err sorry about some of them landin' short, Lord Lyle. Good throwin' arms are short in supply in Riffin."
"Don't worry about it! They walked right into it anyways! Sides' as malnourished as you guys are, I'm impressed you managed to chuck it that deep! Also, I never said I was a lord."
"Just proper is all."
Lyle shrugged, deciding not to die on that hill. Maybe it was just something that was ingrained into their mindset. Something to keep in mind for the future.
"Oh! Lord Lyle!" Another peasant shouted, pointed back toward the scrambling greenskin horde. "They're starting to come forward!"
Sure enough, the green skins began to surge forward, albeit in a less organized and fearsome manner. Lyle swore that he could hear some guttural butchery of a British accent yelling on the other side, but he ignored it for now. As of this moment, the battle was progressing just the way he liked it, and he would prefer to keep it that way since these nasty-looking goblins were getting closer by the moment.
The earth-native looked around him at the peasants that were forming the battle line. They had almost no armor to speak of, with many having to make do with the rags off their backs. Some didn't even have shoes, or proper weapons, utilizing farming equipment. He could tell some were still nervous even after his rousing speech, but seeing the greenskin counterparts get the worse of some foul-smelling shit, had made them bold. Made them slightly bigger believers in the idea that they would live to see another day.
Now it was time to boost that belief further.
"They in range yet, Hugo?"
"Just about." The tall and imposing brigand nodded. It was when the brigand leader took out and brandished his bow that Lyle began to appreciate just how massive the man was because even the bow he was carrying made the Barrow Legion leader feel small by comparison. As the man drew his bow, his companions joined him, along with many other peasants who had even a modicum of experience in archery. Granted, it wasn't much, only barely rounding out to ⅓ of Riffen's population, but this was a situation where you take what you can get, especially since there weren't many bows, to begin with.
Still, even with the odds against them, it did not prevent Hugo from bellowing out orders with his deep and baritone voice. "Knock!"
The greenskins began to stumble out of the fog of putridness, tears, snot, and spit running down their faces.
"Draw!"
Their pain and discomfort seemed to only fuel them now as the goblins and goblin boss began to charge forward.
"Loose!"
Nearly one hundred arrows soared through the air, arcing slightly before dipping toward the greenskins that were now peppered with arrows. If this was against orcs, it would have at worst wounded or slowed them down, given how thick their muscles tended to be.
Since this was against poorly armed goblins, however, the tightly packed and disorganized stunted green skins found themselves being dropped unceremoniously. The arrows weren't of particularly excellent quality, but they didn't need to be against these flunkies.
The horde stumbled slightly, but the goblins behind the ones that had just taken a salvo didn't realize the danger and practically trampled beneath those who were wounded or dead thanks to the arrows that had just been fired.
To Hugo's credit, he didn't waste time.
"Knock!"
Some goblins were tripping over the corpses or still suffering bodies of their brethren, others were still just now making their way out of the dense and suffocating fog that had been created.
"Draw!"
Ugbar, to his frustration, tripped over a goblin that had been crying in pain from an arrow to the gut. After standing up, he lifted his boot and crushed its head into a pulp out of sheer frustration.
"Loose!"
Much like last time, not all the arrows came out at once, but they didn't need to. With the goblins this disorganized, the volley was still incredibly effective.
Lyle couldn't help but marvel at how poorly equipped these goblins were, even in comparison to the bretonnians he had faced…well, bretonnian peasants anyways. At least their uniforms had some semblance of a common color scheme and symmetry. For the goblins, it seemed as if they just cobbled together whatever they had gotten their hands on and gone from there. It was as if they were the true epitome of scavengers. Hell, he was sure he could find soccer and football hooligans better prepared for a brawl, especially if they had some liquid courage pumping in their veins.
Still, he could learn more about their clothing style another time. Right now, He had to stay locked in and focused as he mentally ordered his undead soldiers to surge forward. He could only hold about one hundred at the moment at maximum. Still, they thankfully they were skeleton warriors instead of the regular ramshackle poverty zombies that were only useful as meat shields…he was sure that if he pushed it, he could summon another hundred or so. Still, he wanted to save that for later. After all, if all went well, he would have a nasty surprise for the goblins headed their way.
"Not gonna be long now." Ave sighed, wringing a long spear that she had in her grasp. She was doing a good job of hiding it better than most, but Lyle could tell that she was nervous. Four years of standing on the sidelines and seeing his brothers in pads go through pre-game jitters would give him that insight. Not that he could blame her, of course. Unlike his games, this was life and death and even he was a bit nervous, especially after how poorly his last battle went. "Your trick may have slowed em' up, but they'll keep on coming, even if they are just goblins."
"A ye bit of faith m'lady. This ain't my first radio when leading a scrap."
She stared pointedly at him. "You lost your last one, I recall."
"Those were against knights. We ain't losing to goblins. Especially when they look this ramshackle."
"They're far from impressive, but plenty of them to spare, I can assure you that. Kill ten, then fifty more will replace em'."
"Not if they can cut and run, they won't." Lyle said confidently. "These guys aren't anywhere near as brave as your country's knights, correct?"
"Not nearly as brave as orcs either."
"And only one orc from what we can see. Lucky us!"
The goblins continued to move forward, not because they were now raring to go, but from what seemed to be due to the verbal abuse from the orc in question. Now at this distance, Lyle could easily hear the big green fighting machine with great clarity.
"If you crumpin' gitz even think about stoppin', I'll feed your corpses to the wolves! Get movin', you gitz!"
"B-boss!" A sniveling goblin next to him cried. "W-were tryin' but their arrows-
"Oi can see em' you crumpin' squig herder! Quit your yappin' and get to chopin', NOW!"
As every peasant who could hold a weapon began to shuffle slowly behind the thin line of skeletons, Lyle had to marvel for a second at how great of a butchery of the English accent he had just heard. He'd never been a professional at understanding accents, but the verbal butchery could easily be identified.
More arrows were loosed in the meantime, and more goblins were collapsing and trampled by their brethren. It didn't stop the horde. It slowed it, but the green tied refused to be permanently impeded. Whether it was bravery, fear, or just a simple form of crowd mentality, Lyle was impressed and frustrated at how stubborn these goblins were being…though he had to wonder how far they could be pushed before they would crack? Faster than untrained peasants perhaps?
Time to put that test. "Everyone, get ready to brace! Those with shields or anything resembling such, you know what to do! Get up front!" Thankfully the peasants were quick to follow Lyle's orders. They were probably used to taking them for most of their lives, which he was thankful for in this instance. "Archers, keep shootin' over us!" Lyle shouted over the cries and screams of the coming goblins. "Even when our lines meet, there'll still be plenty of those stunted fuckers for you to feather!"
In response, Hugo continued to belt his Knock, Draw, and Loose routine to ensure that the orders were followed and that maximum damage as being delt to the goblin horde. Even Ugbar had some arrows sticking out of his body, like his side, his arms, and his shield. But, it only seemed to piss him off more as swarms of goblins flooded in front of his hulking green body. The orc's anger and outrage seemed to be infectious in that moment as their bloodlust overrode the first wave of goblins' cowardice as they neared the first line of skeletons.
Won't be long now. "Shield bearers brace!" It was mostly men who were carrying who pressed anything that could pass as a shield being pressed behind the line of skeletons. Plants of wood, Tables, and the actual shield here and there were fair game as every malnourished villager braced next to one another, some fingering wooden or clay chalices. Normally Lyle would have taunted for someone for so much as believing in the Lady, but now wasn't the time or the place.
These poor souls needed every scrap of hope they could get, even if it was misplaced.
Finally, the clash, as anticipated as it was, happened.
The goblins slammed into the skeletons with the force of-!...of…
…the force of a peewee football team.
Lyle had been standing shoulder to shoulder with Ave and others standing shoulder behind the shield bearers, hoping and praying the line would hold, wondering just how many of his skeleton warriors would survive.
Now he was wondering if even one had fallen, hearing such a small anticlimactic slamming of force.
Sure, the shieldbearers had to exert some force to keep some skeletons standing, but it wasn't as if they had to actually get a workout in to get the job done.
Acting quickly, Lyle stood on a nearby box he had arranged to see over the line and saw exactly what the goblins' problem was. They were only trickling in and not coming in all at once thanks to a combination of the cowpies and arrows. With the way things were it would take them considerable time for them to truly meet up in force with the way things were.
That and the goblins were short, which didn't help their situation.
I was gonna wait a little longer for this, but to hell with it. Divide and conquer when you can. "Spears! Get ready to plug them up!"
Ave looked at him in confusion. "But, I thought you said we should wait until-
"I know what I said, but these guys are already reeling! We wipe out some of em' now, our boys and girls can outlast em!" The earth native turned back to his motley troops. "Shields! Were gonna move up the schedule a bit! Shift yourselves apart, now!"
The word was spread like wildfire, with runners, moving up and down the lines repeating his orders just as practiced. Once again, Lyle was ironically thankful in this instance how quick the peasants were quick to take instruction.
Thankfully it wasn't as if his requests were overly complex. As requested, though with no small amount of efforts, those carrying shields shifted them to the side or simply titled them over to ensure that there was a gap where the attacking goblin and defending skeleton could be seen. Not all of them were able to move aside due to the close space, but not all of them needed to do so.
"Thrust!"
Lyle would have preferred everyone do this in unison for efficiency, but that was asking a bit too much from the peasants in this instance. Instead, they began to haphazardly yet effectively thrust forward.
The goblins who had rushed forward and battered their weapons against the shields and retaliating skeletons now found themselves getting skewered with broken hoes, pitchforks, pokers, makeshift spears, and anything that was fit for stabbing. Some of the peasants almost missed because of just how small the goblins were, but after readjusting their aim, their thrusts struck home, often into the kissers of the greenskins.
The already poorly armored goblins didn't last long against the spears. Those that did tended not to have much luck in fleeing since they were suffering from other goblins arriving right onto the battle and shoving them back into the fight. Ironically enough this horde of goblins wound up working against one another in an attempt to overwhelm their opposition.
Not all of the goblins were so foolish as to just run ahead. Some were cunning enough to climb upon their brethren, dead or alive to scale over the skeletons and the shield bearers. These goblins were grinning from ear to ear, proud of how smart they were in this strategy to bypass the frontlines entirely and to make life miserable for the peasants.
A shame for them that once again, Lyle had an answer for them.
"You're up sluggers!"
There weren't very many 'sluggers', but there didn't really need to be. After all, it was as if there were swarms of these goblins leaping and climbing over his own men and women to get a better shot at shedding blood and tearing flesh. These were people of a more lithe build who weren't exactly fit for holding the line, so to speak. No. Their job was to use anything they could get their hands on, from hammers to rocks to even blunt objects and to make any goblins that made it through the lines regret their life choices.
Eudon and Ham were among those who were all too happy to be among the villagers to embody this task to the fullest.
One particular goblin landed behind the peasant line, a vicious grin on his face as he brandished two curved daggers. "Time to get stabbin' you dumb hum-
A wooden board that cracked him behind the head put an immediate reign on his parade. When the goblin fell face first, several other strikes with blunt objects followed until the short green creature moved no longer.
This process repeated itself until the threat was effectively neutralized with startling results. "That's two for me, Eudon, you old bag o' skin!" Ham giggled as he swung a hammer into an unsuspecting goblin's eye with effective results. "At this rate, I'll have twice as many!"
"Not a competition, you weedy shit!" Eudon grumbled as he and other peasants swung away at the goblins, effectively isolating and eliminating the small. The older peasant was laboring with the effort, secretly glad he didn't have to spend all battle holding the line. "Besides! We both know you can't count the fingers on your hand!"
Whether Ham could actually count or not mattered not for the goblins, who, while vicious, were only suitable in a situation like this when they had the numbers. On one side, they had the numbers but were neutralized by a stout line. On the other side, their prey was more vulnerable, but they lacked the numbers to capitalize. It was a no-win situation for the stunted greenskins.
The situation continued like this, with the goblins continuing to try and move over the shield wall, unaware of how well their compatriots were doing on the other side, realizing they would share their fate too late. Lyle felt that it was a very therapeutic session for the frustrated and frightened peasants to beat on something half their size.
The frustrations for the goblins didn't end there, as no matter how much they seemed to pile into the shield wall. They couldn't seem to topple the frontline that was impeding them. To make matters worse, so many of them were trickling in from behind those already fighting the skeletons and peasants that it was creating a clogging of soldiers that now couldn't move due to being squished from all sides by their fellow goblins. Their soldiers were clogging up their maneuverability, and nobody was bright or loud enough to point this out over the chaos of battle.
Lyle grinned, especially as Hugo and his archers continued to arc arrows over their countrymen, feathering more and more goblins that were unfortunate enough to be stuck in this goblin mosh-pit.
"Keep holding the line, boys and girls, you got em' on the ropes!" Lyle called out, egging the peasants on as they continued to put up a stiff front with shockingly few casualties on their part. "Remember who you're fighting for! Your friends and family who could be shoulder to shoulder or just right behind you! Think of your home and home these green midgets could fuck that up! Fuck em u-
"WAAAAAAAGGH!" Ugbar Toof Toller had to shove, stomp, and outright cleave many of his own troops out of the way, and in many cases, outright decapitate them. This wasn't easy to accomplish since the sheer number of goblins in the way was stifling, but since they barely got up to their knees, the goblins could only unintentionally impede him so much.
Regardless, once he had gotten close enough, Ugbar shocked Lyle by leaping up into the air, higher than an armored big boss had any right to in his estimations. He cleared other goblins in his way and practically body-slammed the skeletons and peasants that were unfortunate enough to get in his way.
"Did…did he just yeet himself?"
"Don't know what yeetin' means humie!" The boss grumbled as he swung his massive sword around, clearing away any skeletons or peasants near him. "But, if dat means guttin' ya and takin' all da teef in da world, den sign me up!" A skeleton tried moving in on the right of him, but Ugbar was quicker on the draw, swinging his blade sand, slicing it's bony body in half, sending it clear over the frontlines while having the time to boot a peasant so hard that blood and spit came flying out of his mouth.
Turning back to ward the goblins behind him, Ugbar glared balefully at the goblins behind. "What you gits standing around der for? Get movin', you squig herders! I made you a hole, now get in here and fill it, before you I tear ones in you lot!"
Fearful of the not-so-subtle threat, while being galvanized by the idea of finally shedding the blood, the goblins began to squeeze past one another to try and get through the small but noticeable hole in the frontline to start truly shedding some blood.
"Lyle! They're punching their way through!" Ave yelled over the chaos of battle, trying to keep the panic from her voice.
"I can very well see that!" The necromancer replied, priming up a raise-the-dead spell, looking to summon cannon fodder zombies to plug up the hole.
Or at least he did when a brigand came running up from behind. "Hugo! Our scouts have sighted Goblin Wolf riders on the left flank! They're looking to loop across, we think, and take us up the ass!"
Lyle didn't need to see the grim look on Hugo and the horrified expression on Ave to realize just how dire the situation had become in just a few short moments. Now he had a dilemma, It would take time to prime up another raise the dead spell right after another, but he couldn't just throw the spell out willy-nilly. Biting his lip and realizing that lives were at steak, the necromancer eyed Ugbar Toof toller just in time to see the orc impale an unfortunate peasant right into the chest with his blade grinning darkly, as goblins continued to swarm around him.
Making his decision, Lyle turned to the brigand scout. Show me where they are! I can slow them down!" He then snapped his head back to Hugo. "Hugo! I can summon some zombies to slow their wolves down, but I'm gonna need your archers to take em' down! Can you handle it?"
A single firm nod was all he needed. Before he could speak to Ave, the buck-toothed peasant girl was already on the ball, a determined look on her face. "We'll hold em' off, but just hurry Lyle! We can only hold before we buckle and break with that big boss!"
Knowing that speed was of the essence, Lyle nodded before motioning for the brigand to lead the way. Though they were once peasants, the necromancer could tell that these brigands were of sterner stuff with how quick and how long they could run on such short notice, especially with Hugo being able to overtake everyone else with his long powerful strides nearly.
"How close are they to getting around our flank?" He asked the brigand while running from behind the front lines.
"They're getting-shite! They're peeling around now!"
Lyle let out a curse of his own as he could see the white and grey colored shapes of the wolves these goblins were riding. And boy, were they quick.
So quick in fact that just as Lyle felt they were getting to the edge of the frontline the goblin wolf riders had already moved past it, moving downward to get an excellent and more complete opportunity to savage the front line truly. The riders were lightly armored, but, seeing how the wolves they were riding were drooling, the earth native didn't doubt they could do some serious damage if need be, especially at their size.
The goblin captain in charge of leading this group of wolf riders named Iglet was more than happy to have his riders move all the way to the back of the frontlines, giving his wolf riders a chance to stop and then prepare for the opportunity to pounce on the rear and claim the majority of these teef himself. Sure, it was dirty humie teef, but teef was teef, and he was determined to get his share with Grom the Ponch being notoriously greedy with his!
Raising his spear in the air, he then dipped it forward, giving the rest of his boyz the signal to move forward and rip apart the cloaked humies that were all that prevented him from claiming victory on this day! He'd let the boyz go first, though. No need for him, the vaunted wolf rider captain, to die so early when others would so gladly, right?"
Only when half of his boyz had lurched forward did he kick the sides of his wolf, causing it to snarl but accede to his demand to join the battle in earnest. Though for his wolf, it would be more of a feast! A feast, Iglet was more than happy to let his wolf has his fill, as meager and thin as humies in Brettonia could be!
They were so close now! The humies launched a volley at the wolf riders, which caused some casualties, but it wouldn't matter. They could only fire their arrows so many times before it was too late!
Or at least that's what the wolf rider thought before an explosion of earth erupted not too far in front of his wolf riders, revealing nearly a hundred undead humies blocking their path.
"Sh-shite!" The shocked wolf rider captain stammered. "St-stop you gitz, stop!" But, deep down, Iglet knew it was too late. The momentum they had built was far too great to stop, and, like clockwork, they slammed into the freshly summoned undead troops who were all too happy to soak up the charge, bending and then reforming, but never so much as buckling.
"D-damned gitz! G-get out of the damned way!" Inar cursed as he futilely tried to maneuver his wolf-riders from the tightly compacted mass they had become after charging right into the zombies. "I-I'm the captain you fools! Listen to me when I say! Bugger it all, rotted teef ain't more valuable than only slightly rotted teef! We're wastin' our time-Gurk!" An arrow had lodged itself into the eye of the captain, ending his tenure at such a position without much fare.
With no one to lead the wolf riders and several cursing and mutinous voices shouting all at once, the bottled-up wolf riders soon found themselves getting peppered with arrows courtesy of the brigands who were making short work of the wolf riders. They may have been fast, but such speed came at the cost of light to nonexistent armor, offering little protection in the face of such an assault.
Dozens upon dozens of wolf riders found themselves being feathered by the frighteningly accurate arrows of the Brigands who seemed like consummate professionals in comparison to their more humble counterparts.
Lyle couldn't help but marvel at how skilled they were compared to the archers he had seen. So much so that the earth native couldn't help but wonder how far they'd get if they entered the Olympics.
"Necromancer." Hugo's stern voice knocked him out of such musings as the wolf-rider slaughter continued. "You're needed elsewhere. That orc boss will tear our lines apart if left alone."
"You sure you have it handled."
"We won't if you don't do your part." Understanding that speed was of the essence, he was just about to move forward when the big man said something else. "And may the lady guide you to our victory."
Lyle would have rolled his eyes at how little he cared for the lady if he had more pressing concerns. Moving back to the frontline, Lyle couldn't help but notice how much more sluggish he was feeling and how his mind became more dizzy shortly after raising more undead. Shrugging it off, Lyle focused on the frontline and couldn't help but feel his heartbeat raise a few decibels at the sight of so many goblins pouring through. If it wasn't for the sluggers trying to stem the tide, then the necromancer was sure that their defensive line would have crumbled entirely within the center.
The big problem was Ugbar, cutting down skeletons and peasants alike like wheat in the field, disemboweling one peasant that Lyle nearly lost his lunch at, while the poor peasant lost more. Kicking the screaming and bloody Brettonian aside, Ugbar moved forward, grinning with blood coating his armor, searching for more worthy prey.
If he continued like this, it would only be a matter of time before the Brettonian's will to fight on would crumble, especially in the face of such singlehanded slaughter.
"Is dis da best you humies got! I thought I was gettin' a real fight the moment I saw humies and undead humies fightin'!"
Lyle grinned. If this guy's rarin' for a go, then why don't I give em' a go. Krell… your-
"Ug!" Just then, Lyle fell to his knees. The moment he tried to bring out Krell was the moment he felt a sharp and acute pain lance through his skull, causing the young man to clench his teeth at the suffering he suddenly found himself with.
Without warning, blood suddenly oozed out of his nose, the vision of the earth-native became dizzy, and it took all his strength not to just fall onto his side and just get into the fetal position to deal with the rapid sensations he was being put through.
"The…the…fuck." He managed to mutter out. He almost felt like hurling. The bile was in his throat, yet he managed to keep what food he had in his innards for the moment through a minor miracle. Yet that was the least of his and everyone's concerns.
Looking upward with bleary eyes, Lyle witnessed the situation on the front get even more desperate, with more bretonnian peasants getting swarmed by goblins, who were now beginning to enjoy their numbers advantage, with cackles and grins. Leading the front was Ugbar, who was now reveling in the chaos and bloodshed that he was creating singlehanded, decapitating another peasant who tried to flee the orc. Near the orc lay Jory, who was trying to push a goblin on top of him and trying to stab at his eye. Seeing his fellow peasant in trouble, Ham tried clubbing the knife-eared stunties only to get tripped by even more who were trying to take advantage of the situation. The state of affairs was turning to desperate and Lyle could feel it all becoming undone.
No. No not again. Not fucking again! Immediately Lyle began to bend the winds of magic to his desperate will, twisting and turning the door within himself, even as the pain in his skull began to pound incessantly, and blood dribbled from his nose.
Gritting his teeth, Lyle almost cast a spell to raise more undead to try and stimy the hole in the center of the frontline before he reconsidered even as he bled more from his nose. He saw as more of his raised skeletons fell to Ugbar as he slew them with ease with a swing of his blade while being swarmed with ankle-biting goblins all too eager to enjoy the numbers advantage they were enjoying.
He needed a Krell. He required a juggernaut to cut off the head. If what Ave and Hugo told him earlier about goblins were true and they were truly cowards, surely they'd turn tail and run at seeing their sole orc bite the dust. Kind of like seeing your star QB go down. The boys would put on a brave face, but they'd feel the pain. And my boys are ballsier than these short-stacked shit stains.
Then an idea came to him. He didn't have time to wonder why the hell he couldn't bring back Krell. Maybe he couldn't since he took the fall against Bohemond, or maybe it was something else…maybe it was something wrong with Lyle himself, but there was hardly any time to consider.
A juggernaut was needed to go toe-toe with that orc.
And by God, even if it felt like his head was splitting in two for some reason, it was going to fucking happen!
Lyle stood up and held his hands up while the ground began to shift beneath him. Dhar was released from his body as the magic he had gathered was finally utilized to do its work as quickly and efficiently as it could.
Fuck! Lyle's legs buckled again. There was that searing pain again. Am I pushing it? Fredericka did mention something about how much magic one person could handle at once, even if there were enough winds of magic in a given area…am I…getting to that limit?
The earth native shook his head. It didn't matter if he was. If he did nothing, they would all die, or at the very least a good portion of them would. His mother and uncle raised no bitch, and he certainly wasn't going to imitate one now.
Standing upright once more, the earth shifted again, this time with bones bursting from the ground. They came in all shapes and sizes. Others were as clean as they were the color white, while others were dirty and longer than their counterparts. This Ugbar wants a fight? He's gettin' tired of people that can't fight back against him? Oh, I'm more than willing to solve both his problems!"
More and more bones began to come from the ground, and all of them began clinging to Lyle's body as if he were a magnet. Whether it was his legs, body, or arms, every inch of his form was covered in bones of varying sizes, almost as if they were armor being fitted onto a knight.
While this was happening and more bones began getting attached to Lyle's body, Ave had just gotten done braining a goblin that made the mistake of seeing her as an easy mark, giving the young girl a reprieve, but not by much. Already she could feel exhausted as she and her countrymen fought for their survival. Even as some of them were getting quite literally swarmed by ill-equipped goblins, who were effectively using their numbers to turn the tide of battle. She could feel herself grow desperate as she narrowly dodged a spear stab by another goblin. She managed to counter hit with a hit to the side of it's head with a club. She'd long ditched her spear in favor for a shorter-ranged weapon that had saved her life four times over in this frantic melee.
Yet even now, she wondered if this was the right choice. To listen to Lyle, to this necromancer. Was he in over his head? Was this what he wanted? To see both sides butcher each other to his benefit?
She could not afford to ponder such treacherous thoughts further when stars suddenly covered her vision. A big, green, and viscous backhand from Ugbar sent her sprawling to the ground as he swatted her away almost carelessly as if she were a bug for him to shoo away. Blood dribbled down her lip and nose as Ave attempted to get her equilibrium right.
"Aw, c'mon humies!" Ugbar growled as he looked dispassionately around him, observing the chaos with no small amount of distaste. "You Ad' us goin' in the beginnin'! Where's the fight you were bringin' on? I thought you arder' in the beginnin' but, now your as soft as the rest o' your pink skin kind!"
Ave glared with vitriol at the massive orc, resenting the helplessness that was befalling her at that moment. The feeling that every bretonnian peasant felt in their entire life. Whether it was orcs, beastmen, or even the knights that claimed to protect them…it just never ended. That wretched feeling she hoped to smother when she received help from the Brigands…perhaps it was unavoidable as it was inevitable.
Much like the outcome of this battle.
Just when Ave thought she had made herself small enough to at least avoid any further attention, the corner of Ugbar's eye caught her, tempting him just enough to turn his massive frame toward her with interest, making the young peasant girl cringe.
A dark shadow loomed over her as Ugbar stomped towards her. "Dat's a nice toof ya got der humie…gimmie." Reaching forward with his big grubby hand, Ave tried to back away, only for him to grab the peasant by the hand. Ave winced, trying in vain to pull away as the orc reached his other hand for her mouth, aiming at plucking her bucked teeth.
It was a bony fist to the face that spared Ave's teeth, which was met with so much force that Ugbar actually stumbled backward and fell a few yards away, sending him sprawling.
A lull settled over the fighting. For the goblins, it wasn't just the fact that their boss had just been sent on his back from the sheer force, but because of who…or rather what had done it. Easily standing head and shoulders above anyone else in the field was a construct of bone created in the shape of a man with Lyle contained within it, almost wearing it like an exoskeleton.
What stood out about this bone-like form was how it had bulked up shoulder-like bulges, as if the bones were shoulder pads with a bone helmet surrounding the earth native's head that vaguely looked like a football helmet. Though for anyone not of earth it struck an intimidating sight, especially so for the goblins who witnessed the sheer power of this construct first hand.
"F-ffu-Oh sod this!" One goblin scampered, that was trying to hold down Jory. "Boss never said nothin' about humies and undead humies! Not enough teef for this!"
"It-it's just a bigger dead fing you coward!" One bold goblin boasted. "We got through a bunch already! What's another big one to-
Its bravery led to its immediate demise as Lyle reared back with its constructs frame and punted the goblin into a group of its own comrades, causing a spill. Another goblin who was either too brave or stupid to flee took a rusty sword to the back of the construct's knee only to feel it's stomach drop when the bone did not give. Lyle, feeling the blade's impact, simply lifted the constructs foot and stepped down ruthlessly on the goblin, crushing its spine and many other parts of its body in a sickening crunch, making the short creature even shorter.
Another goblin seeing the fate of its compatriot, tried to flee, only to feel Lyle grab its leg and for it to shriek in terror.
It would soon be crying in pain as the construct swung it around like a flail, smashing its body into many other goblins unfortunate enough to find their way into this newly constructed war machine.
This continued until the goblin Lyle had been swinging slipped from his bony grasp, thanks to its leg being torn off, which did wonders in terrorizing the greenskin army that was desperate for teef not too long.
A frenzy of activity soon broke out from the goblins due to this. Half the goblins who had seen what just happened decided to try and squeeze through the whole in the line they had created to escape certain doom, while the other half swarmed around Lyle, trying to beat him with a numerical advantage as was often their strategy.
"Don't let them get to Lord Lyle!" Jory growled out, having taken advantage of the distracted goblins on top of him. Other beleaguered peasants rallied to the site of the imposing construct, with fresh hope uplifting their spirits. Many rallied to Jory, including the likes of Ave and Ham.
In particular, Ham struck a goblin attempting to climb up Lyle's leg with such force with his club that teeth came flying out with many following his example. "For Riffin!" Ave screamed, face bloody and all as she fell upon another goblin with repeated blows to a goblin's head, which stood no match for the peasants' fury.
"All too willing to support them, Lyle swung his newly constructed limbs around, smashing and sending goblins flying around with screams, shrieks, or death throws as their small bodies only benefited them in preventing them from getting hit. Lyle put special focus on any goblins that were trying to further behind their frontlines, making them pay for their mistakes with physical and deadly violence.
"Plug the gap!" Lyle called out from within his construct. "Don't let these green shitstains get behind our lines! Plug up the hole they made!"
While the peasants were attempting to accommodate his demand, they needn't have bothered. Because soon, the familiar sight of arrows feathering hapless goblins that were none the wiser made another appearance.
With speed and frightening accuracy, arrows rained from behind the front lines and into the skulls of fleeing goblins, disheartening the green skins further sowing even more chaos into their already disorganized ranks.
"It's Hugo and the Brigand's!" Ave pointed with a crimson grin. "They've come back! They must've dealt with the wolf riders!"
"And now they're fuckin' the goblins in the ass!" Lyle cheered along with many other Brettonians. For a moment, however, the earth native was worried that some friendly fire would occur since these arrows were coming dangerously close to Brettonians. But, to the Brigands' credit, these former peasants were clearly a cut above the rest in terms of lethal accuracy, with the majority of their arrows finding goblin skulls. The brigands were once again proving their worth in Lyle's eyes as to how they could be true olympic archers if given the chance.
Sadly he didn't have the time to marvel at such exquisite skill due to him feeling the force of a freight train smashing into the bone body he had constructed for himself.
"All I wanted was some teef'! Teef Gork damn you!" Ugbar snarled as he landed on top of Lyle, slamming his blade into the reinforced rib cage of his construct. "Why'd you ded fings Ave' to get involved in my scrap!?"
The necromancer tried shoving the orc off, but unlike the goblins, the orc was as big as he was heavy, not allowing any leverage to shove him off.
After a moment, Ugbar noticed an opening slit in Lyle's helmet and aimed his blade to stab right into his face. Quickly raising his arms, he managed to use his bone arms to block the impalement, but not without said bones cracking under the sheer strength and power of the move.
The orc was strong, stronger than even Lyle had anticipated, and with wide eyes, he witnessed the blade inched closer and closer, his construct's hand not able to stop him.
"Git off im' you fuckin' greenskin!" Ham cried out, reaching with a club and smashing the orc into the side, only to stare open-mouthed as his club snapped in half.
"Oh, bugg-Oof!" The orc kicked Ham with such force, that blood came spurting out of his mouth. Ham's eyes went wide, coming to his chest to where the orc kicked, seemingly struggling to breathe.
Lyle refused to let the peasant suffer like that in vain, using his free hand to whip around and smash into the orc's face causing him to tumble while allowing Lyle to reverse their position. The two combatants, necromancer and Orc Boss twisted and turned onto the ground, both of them scrambling for an advantage and trying to end the deadly brawl between them quickly, with both knowing that the victor could very well decide the outcome of this village.
Lyle arguably had better protection, but the orc had more strength and experience in close-quarters combat, managing to wrangle himself on top of Lyle yet again, but not without the cost of losing his blade in the struggle.
That suited Ugbar just fine as he reigned his large, green, meaty fists on top of Lyle's helmeted head. While it offered optimal protection, the pain that the necromancer had been feeling up until that point certainly didn't improve under such a relentless assault, prompting him to get creative in dispatching this imposing, green foe.
Before that, Ugbar latched on to the grid-like bone face guard that made Lyle's helmet and started to pull so hard that an ominous snapping sound could be heard. "Zog it! I could always use the teef of dead humies! Might even be better lookin' than those smelly, yellow bretonnians I'm gonna gut myself!"
What the orc didn't expect was for Lyle to lurch forward with his head and smash the faceguard right into his nose, causing Ugbar to curse at his mistake at pulling at the faceguard instead of pushing and crushing it.
Lyle managed to shove the orc off his body, and slugged Ugbar right across the jaw, stunned at how the orc was STILL standing after such a hefty blow.
Aiming to hit the orc with a left hook, Ugbar surprised him by grabbing the appendage tightly and then with a burst of speed and strength, tearing off some of the bones that made his constructs, hand leaving only pointy protrusions behind. This was followed up by a shoulder check right into the construct's body, seeing Lyle stumbling backward.
Trying to retaliate, Lyle continued to try and throw fists and kicks with his lumbering bony construct, but it was only met with minimal success. Even the blows he landed seemed only to slow the orc down. Plus, for every blow he hit, Ugbar would return with a much more powerful counterblow, bending, cracking, and rending his armored exo-skeleton further and further to the point where some bones were starting to press directly into his body.
If I don't finish this asshole off quickly, those goblins are gonna continue to have heart and not completely retreat, meaning more people die!...wait…why the fuck am I fighting like a boxer anyways?
After taking yet another solid punch to his face protection which finally was smashed apart due to the stress and blow it had received, Lyle changed tactics. When Ugbar snarled and swung his fist and aimed to strike Lyle's now exposed face, the orc was surprised when Lyle instead opted to grab the arm, leap in the air and press all of his weight on the orc's chest, forcing Ugbar to the ground in a loud thud, that shook bone and flesh alike.
"Lemme let you in on a little secret… Ugbar's your name, right?" Lyle asked, holding the orc's arm in a cross-arm-breaker. When he only received grunts and growls in response, Lyle continued. "Back home, I was in a lotta sports. Football, soccer, baseball, you name it…there was one sport I hated doin' though 'cause I had to watch my damned weight all the time, but I was damned good at it. Ya know what it was?"
Instead of offering an intelligible answer, Ugbar only howled in pain as Lyle, with the added strength of the bone construct, wrenched the orc's arm backward, snapping it in half with ruthless efficiency and tearing plenty of muscles in that area as well, rendering the big boss's right arm useless.
Trying to retaliate, the orc tried shifting his body, pinning Lyle's back on the ground and trying to gain leverage. The earth native was impressed by the orc's strength, even with a near-useless arm. "Not bad there, Shrek! Sadly for you, I've taken on people above my weight class before. And unlike in the past, there are no rules here!" Lyle immediately let go of the damaged arm, falling entirely on the ground and unbalancing Ugbar in surprise. Taking advantage of the situation, Lyle positioned his large leg appendages and managed to snag the orc's right foot in a drop-toe hold, tripping the orc and causing him to fall on his side.
Moving faster than the orc could react, thanks in small part to damaged arm and pectoral muscles, Lyle swiftly snagged Ugbar's left leg, trapping it in a leg lock and creating another howl of pain to the orc. It was a bit challenging, given how long his construct's legs were, but it was not impossible. If anything, their sheer size and weight made it that difficult for the orc to break out of the hold.
"Did four years of wrestling. Won three championships till' I lost to a girl if you could believe it. Sadly I don't think you have her experience in bending people into a pretzel Mr. Tooth taker!"
"It's Toof Taker you zoggin' pink-skin!" The orc bit back, struggling to get out of the hold. "When I get out of this, I swear by Gork I'm gonna carve out your molars with my chopa-AAAAAAAAAAAHHH!"
A little wrench here. A twist there, and suddenly a good number of muscles in Ugbar's leg had been strained, torn, and rendered useless, especially around the knee area.
"Whatssa Matta!?" Lyle queried, throwing the orc's leg off of him and climbing on top of the orc. "You can dish it out to peasants that can't match your weight class, but you can't take it?" Now that he was straddling the orc, as it wailed in pain, Lyle clenched his fists, staring derisively in the orc's pain-filled hateful beady red eyes. "Now I admit. I didn't take any classes on professional boxing. Never had the time, and I had…extracurriculars with my uncle. But my uncle at least taught me how to throw a decent punch when I got someone on the dirt!"
Lyle then let loose a punch right into Ugbar's already busted nose, ruining it further. With the inclusion of bone on flesh, the blow held even more weight. So Lyle let loose another blow and another. And another. And another.
Oh, Ugbar did try fighting back. But with only half your limbs working correctly, there was little opportunity to fight back with someone on top of you. To the orc's credit, he didn't beg, cry, or try to wimp his way out of the reign of punches inflicted upon his skull. The boss's pride was seemingly too big even to dare such a thing.
The blows kept on coming. Lyle refused to give in even a little after seeing the destruction and death this orc caused. Seeing so many peasants just trying to get through their miserable existence and having this ignoble end put upon them by this green menace only fueled the anger that was bubbling within. As his own blood poured down to his lips, he could feel some of the orcs splatter on his face, along with the some of the tusks and teeth of the orc being chipped or popped out from the blows.
Eventually, however even Lyle had his limits, even with the magically enhanced bones enhancing his strikes and strength. Finally, his punches lost their force, and eventually, the exhausting melee he had overcome began to wear on his body.
Heaving and tempting to blink away the dizziness in his vision, Lyle saw that somehow the orc was still alive, though Ugbar probably wished that he wasn't.
To call the orc's face, a mess would be too kind of a word. It almost seemed like the orc's facial structure was barely holding together, though it was difficult to tell with the profuse amount of blood coating Ugbar's face. The only reason why Lyle could tell the orc was even alive was that some blood would be coughed out of his mouth, along with faint breathing…though it sounded more like wheezing.
Lyle, in the meanwhile, lay on the side of the construct, somewhat stunned at how out of breath he was at that moment and how his limbs suddenly felt so much heavier. It was as if he was dragging around weights attached to his limbs or trying to maneuver underwater.
All the magic I've used…Using magic to enhance those cow pies…raising hundreds of undead singlehanded today and yesterday. I have to have been pushing it. Plus, there are all the other spells I've used up until now. I have to have reached my limit. Fredericka touched on it, but I don't think she really went into depth on how bad the consequences would be…shit…or maybe I just didn't listen.
It was a bad habit of Lyle to zone out during classes or lessons, even during sports. The only reason he overperformed in those cases was because of his incredible athletic talent while leaving his actual grades much to be desired.
Which was why I skipped so much to hang with my uncle...and try to get in on the fucking La Cosa Nostra for all the good it did me.
A sudden weight on the construct's left shoulder snapped the earth native from his musings, especially when he heard of the tell-tale sign of a cackling goblin.
"Take the head of a humie wizard, and I can be da head of da boyz!" A goblin grinned, aiming a crooked spear right at his targets face. Lyle tried moving the goblin off, but his body felt as heavy as lead. He couldn't even jerk his head aside as the goblin pulled back his spear to thrust down to skewer his face.
Ironically the goblin would wind up with his face skewered as a small hand carrying a familiar-looking dagger whipped around and was shoved into the small creature's eye, causing it to jerk for a moment before falling backward, revealing a one-eyed child.
"Told…told kids like yourself to stay behind." The necromancer said dumbly while secretly relieved that he'd provided the timely assistance.
The child didn't answer, instead, opted to hop in front of Lyle and approach the downed orc who had to lead the assault.
Before Lyle could say anything else or anyone could do anything noteworthy, the child screamed bloody murder and pounced upon Ugbar with the viciousness one would never expect of someone so young. Once he was on the orc, his knife hand was a blur, coming up and down that one could mistake that a spigot had been planted into the big boss's body. Focusing mainly on the neck and face area, Ugbar could only offer token resistance, with the occasional cough and gurgle being spouted from his ruined mouth. Nowhere was safe. Not his face, his neck, his chest, not until his entire upper body looked like a macabre canvas of what an orc looks post-battle under the most dire circumstances.
All the while, the one-eyed child screamed. He screamed even as his throat burned and his neck turned purple. He screamed even as the orc's blood entered his mouth. The boy had dar, intent on his mind, and it seemed as though nothing would impede.
Nothing beside his own exhaustion, as finally, his knife arm stilled, leaving the child to fall back and admire the work he had accomplished. Needless to say, if anyone knew Ugbar Toof-Taker before this battle, it would be hard to recognize him now.
Realizing that the bones of his armor were only holding him down, Lyle let go of the spell, causing every bone around his body to fall seamlessly to the ground. Though it was more to the line that he was physically and mentally spent rather than just him doing it of his own will. That and he was more than a bit perturbed and disturbed by the violent act that a child would display.
"Kid?" Lyle called out, almost tentatively.
The child didn't respond initially. He seemed to focus on taking deep breaths while his shoulders shuddered with every breath. Eventually, his breathing became more jilted and uneven, sitting in front of the corpse of Ugbar. Finding only the strength to crawl forward, Lyle moved closer to the kid, on his hands and knees, stopping to see the bloody tears that were coming down the boy's singular eye.
Suddenly it came to Lyle. The fact that he'd yet to see the kid's parents. The way he practically launched himself at Ugbar. The reaction he was seeing now. Don't know my academics well, but I know people. "Parents?" Lyle asked softly.
The boy jerked a bit before tentatively nodding, not wanting to look the necromancer in the face.
Before Lyle could say anything else, he felt a pair of hands on him, pulling him up to his feet. For a moment, he thought it was goblins in the heat of the moment, but he felt assured that they were nowhere near tall enough to accomplish something like this.
Sure enough, he was greeted by Jory and Eudon, both covered in mud, dirt, and blood, with thankfully the latter not being their own with weary yet relieved looks on their faces.
"We fuckin' did it, m'lord, we did it!" Jory exclaimed breathlessly, trying to catch his breath. "The green fuckers are buggering off!" The peasent pointed to the front line, and sure enough, the goblins had started stumbling away in a disorganized frantic retreat. Thanks to the hole in the frontline, many goblins had a front-eye view of seeing their vaunted leader get butchered like a stuffed pig and quickly lost heart. Any goblins who couldn't see could, regardless see their comrades fleeing and weren't going to stick around to find out why.
The battle was over.
Even on woozy legs, Lyle couldn't help but feel elation. I didin't fuck it up…I didn't screw up again…I did it…I fuckin' did it… didn't knock it out of the park but a win is a win. Plus these guys' look like they really needed this 'W'.
Such a 'W' didn't come without cost, however. From what Lyle could tell as he got his bearings was that around fifty Brettonians seemed to have perished during the battle. Unsurprisingly, they came from the hole that Ugbar had created.
Sure, he'd lost plenty of skeletons in the past, especially in this battle, as he noticed that essentially all the undead he'd summoned had either been destroyed or imploded from the magical strain that he simply couldn't keep up anymore.
Yet these losses felt different, and it wasn't hard to see why. He'd lost actual people this time, and unlike Wendel, they weren't going to miraculously get up thanks to fantastic circumstances or magic. No. They were gone forever.
Not unless I raise em' from the dead, but I doubt that would go down well with the villagers.
Not wanting to dwell on such thoughts and seeing the survivors of the fight coming to grips with what had just happened. Lyle gently pushed Eudon and Jory aside, trying to stand on his own two feet.
Eudon looked understandably concerned. "Ly-Lord Lyle! You're bleeding! You should!"
"Forget about it." Lyle said swiftly. "I'm good. We're all good." Turning the child, he gingerly, made his way to the shuddering boy before putting a hand on his shoulder, causing the boy to jerk in place.
"Y'know I never did get the name of the one who saved my face from getting skewered."
For a moment the boy said, nothing before turning his face, to reveal that the tears were finally starting to dry. "Brice…My mum named me brice m'lord."
"None of that lord shit." Lyle groused lightly, rubbing his hand through the boy's hair with a smirk. "The way you handled that orc, we should make you a lord. Lord Brice. Slayer of the Tooth-Taker!"
Brice turned to Lyle, a faraway look in his eye, before focusing back on Ugbar's corpse. Moving toward the orc's body, the boy bent down and picked up a chipped tusk that had been pummeled out of its mouth courtesy of Lyle. "Me…a lord?"
"Oi now!" Eudon interjected himself quickly. "If the boy can be a lord, you have any other openings?"
"Oh, trust me. After I'm through with the nobles that left you and abused your fellow countrymen, there's gonna be plenty of open spots if you catch my drift." Other peasants around Lyle raised their eyebrows but couldn't hide their excitement at his words.
And in the necromancer's eyes, why not? From his point of view, it was a good P.R. move, plus it was a good way to stick it to these nobles. This lord of Riffen didn't want to bother in protecting his people? Fine. In that case, there could be a new noble who could do the job that they were charged with. He gets relieved of the work he was not doing and the people here got actual protection. It was a win-win.
Speaking of wins, it took some time for everyone to get their bearings after the life-and-death struggle that had just occurred. Again Lyle was unnerved at losing around fifty men and women, but he was surprised by how relieved everyone was at this news. It was normal for there to be greater casualties, especially if orcs were involved. In some cases, villages would be lucky not to be wiped off the map entirely when outnumbered so greatly and without the support of the nobility on top of that. This often happened since they were the ones who supplied the peasants with their weapons and armor, even if it was of middling quality at best and downright atrocious at worst. Apparently, it was illegal for the peasants to bear arms without the explicit approval of their liege lord.
Imagine the fits the NRA would have if they were plopped into this country like me.
Thankfully Lyle didn't have to wait too long to get the attention of the now jubilant and hopeful-looking survivors. Ave was especially helpful in gathering everyone near where Ugbar was slain so that not only everyone could see for themselves but so that Lyle had their undivided attention for what was to come next. Every now and then the buck-toothed girl would give glances to Lyle almost furtively looking at him, before the leader of their battle, their victory stood on top of a box granted to him courtesy of Jory and a few other peasants.
The necromancer almost seemed to sway for a moment, dabbing his face to rid the blood on him before eventually giving up and tossing it away, sweeping his eye on the unwashed masse with a crimson-stained smile on his face.
For a moment, Lyle looked to say something, the pre-planned victory speech on the tip of his tongue until someone beat him to the punch.
"Make Bretonnia Great Again!" Nobody was quite sure who shouted it first, but the familiar phrase was immediately infectious.
"Make Bretonnia Great Again!" A few peasants shouted disjointedly.
"Make Bretonnia Great Again." A group said, this time with more vocal unity.
Soon the chanting began to pick up throughout this rag-tag, poorly equipped army that had just survived a life-and-death struggle. Soon their voices could all be heard as one, with anyone and everyone getting swept up in the fervor of these four simple words. Even Ham, who Lyle was sure had some broken ribs, couldn't help but shout those four simple words.
"Make Brettonia Great Again! Make Brettonia Great Again! Make Brettonia Great Again! Make Brettonia Great Again!"
Brice was joining in as much as his underdeveloped lungs would allow. Though she was initially hesitant, the jubilation of attaining victory when it otherwise seemed hopeless caused Ave to cast her voice in the crowd. It got to the point where the entire village was cheering it, even the children who were hiding in the huts along with those who were physically unable to fight, whether too young, too old or too misshapen.
This left Lyle almost stunned, yet grinning all the same at the movement that he had created. It reminded him of all the games he'd managed to pull from the jaws of defeat back home and how the crowd was behind him as much as they were behind the team.
Now though? Now it felt like it truly meant something. Like what he was doing truly mattered like he was actually making a difference.
Back home, he was bringing prestige to his high school and stroking his ego.
Now he was changing lives AND stroking his ego further.
What more could a young man like him ever want?
Lyle wanted nothing more than to just lean back at that moment and have the peasants carry him to make the occasion that much more special truly. Yet at that moment, something caught his eye. A shining-light glare made him squint his eyes as if something was reflecting the sun's light off in the distance.
Then the chants of the peasantry began to get drowned out by another noise. The noise of something hitting the ground repeatedly. The closer the gleam in the distance got, the louder the noise became.
Eventually, the gleam had gotten close enough that Lyle could angle his head to see past it. What he saw made his stomach clench in dread.
Soon other peasants became curious to the noise like him, and when they turned and saw what Lyle saw, the chants died in their throats.
Gasps and stricken glances looked toward what must have been hundreds upon hundreds of knights in a mixture of heraldry, wearing heavy plating and armor, not just for themselves but the horses too. What stood above this group of Brettonian knights, however, were multiple flags that bore a brown bull with a singular horn from its head.
"I-It's lord Bastien!" A peasant cried out, dread at the sight of their approaching liege lord approaching.
The jubilation and energy that Lyle felt previously was suddenly gone. The weariness of the battle that he and the others had just endured could be felt almost all at once again.
It seemed as though, this time, defeat had come to snatch him from the jaws of victory.
A/N: As all true warhammer fans know, whether you're in fantasy or in 40k, the universe is an unforgiving realm of existence at best and downright punishing at its worst. Even with a win, victory on the battlefield can only get you so far, and Lyle's going to learn the harsh reality of that in the next few chapters. Also thanks for sticking with me thus far and as always, please let me know what you think with your reviews, they're greatly appreciated!
Review Responses:
Jajo Camello: They got their win. But, now a steeper price is going to be paid.
Annoying POW Marine: I love the George Washington comparison! Though Washington most definitely had more experience and sense than Lyle does. He'll just have to make do with magic instead.
Guest: As you can see. This loly gagging did indeed bite him in the ass firmly.
Jackofalltrades32456: MGBA!
Aymen El Kadouri: Fuck em' indeed.
Rc48177: They're just lucky that they were mostly going up against goblins.