Looks like we're not the first ones to this party."
"Figures. Even when we're early, somehow we manage to be late."
The two Marines remained as still as stone even in their whispered conversations, watching a group of about half a dozen orcs moving through the hillocks that Joker had selected as the most ideal firing point for the mission based on a quick survey of the area with binoculars. It had taken them slightly longer than expected to reach the projected combat zone, the map Lord Hexen had given them being more primitive than they would have liked in regards to distances, but that was offset by the presence of clear geographical features that were easy to follow along with on the map. To their disappointment, their early impressions about the area had been fairly spot on as to what they were initially assuming, few tall trees or other large growths that would have shielded them from prying eyes while on the move. But there were a good number of bushes and patches of waist high grass that dotted the approach, allowing for a safer if much slower path to where they were going. It wasn't ideal, but what part of their jobs ever were? The Sniper-Spotter team had done this song and dance enough times to set to work with only a minor amount of grumbling.
They'd broken out the ghillie suits, made a few adjustments to make them more effective in their current environment, applied the proper face paint, and started the sluggish approach towards the hillocks as if they were back in Afghanistan doing business as usual. Their caution had proved to be wise when they'd spotted the lumbering movement of orcs making their way around their part of the neighborhood. Their limited numbers probably indicated that they were scouts or some kind of skirmishing vanguard that was meant to keep an enemy off balance before the real fighting could commence. Either way, they weren't on the lookout for a couple of humans low crawling on the ground while wearing shrubbery, letting them be effectively invisible to casual observation. That didn't mean they could get comfortable though, as even the most absent minded of people would probably take notice if they saw a bush start moving in an unnatural way.
It would be cruelly simple to deal with them all if they were discovered, of course, but that would defeat the purpose of a stealth operation.
And so, they waited, the minutes ticking by as they made sure the haphazard "patrol" put some distance between them. Once he was satisfied, Joker started off again, dragging his face across the ground as Reaper did the same slightly to his rear. The distance they had to close measured several hundred meters, the kind of stretch that seemed utterly grueling when every inch felt like it took ten minutes to cross. It wasn't the effort itself that was problematic, Joker and Reaper had made longer crawls in far more hostile terrain before, it was the passage of time that was the more precarious in his mind. Even with their early departure from the allied camp, they had lost precious time narrowing down where they were going and putting on the appropriate gear. There was no telling at what exact moment Lord Hexen and his entourage would arrive, especially given how these pseudo-medieval forces probably didn't even have ways of timings things exactly, but they couldn't exactly waste time when the entire battle plan depended on them being in position at the right moment. But unless Joker was going to start counting heartbeats, there wasn't a way to tell how much time was passing in between the rare moments he risked quickly glancing at his watch in a way that wouldn't slow him or risk causing an unnatural movement in the flora around him. Gunny Mills and a few other instructors claimed that Scout Snipers eventually gained an innate sense of the minutes and hours that passed like human sundials. Apparently, Joker hadn't put in enough years for that particular superpower as he still had to rely on technology for such things. All things considered, they weren't making bad headway as best he could tell, but there was still plenty of opportunity for things to go wrong.
"Movement at your three." Reaper whispered.
Case and point.
They both stopped in place, muscle memory subtly shifting their limbs in a way that allowed the ghillie suits to blend in with the surroundings even easier. Joker heard their footsteps before seeing them, a pair of orcs who had been part of the earlier group stomping their way back over, their path barely five meters away from the Marines. His eyes followed the non-humans from behind his veil, silently cursing as the pair stopped right in the way they were traveling as if they had decided to take the worst timed smoke break. This was his first time seeing any of the special regions non-human species up close without it being in combat, and it was a bit striking how similar these orcs were to their fictional representations on earth. They were gray skinned with bald heads and would have dwarfed Joker had he been standing side by side. Their mouths spoke in a gnashing and hissing language that sounded like they were discussing the best way to flay puppies alive, even if there was no way to tell if they could be discussing something as mundane as the weather. It seemed way too coincidental that a thus far undiscovered species would look and sound almost exactly as they would have expected, and he was sure there was probably some academic in the JSDF that was about to become famous for writing a research paper on just that subject, but that required people like him to actually live through these kinds of encounters to report back on it. And right now, Joker wasn't in the mood for cultural observations, he wanted these two out of their fucking way.
Finally, their mystery debate apparently settled, the orcs continued on their way while still completely unaware that they were being watched the whole time. Letting his irritation bleed out through physical exertion, Joker began crawling forward again while staying mindful of blind spots in such a position. Since those two had been walking the opposite direction of where the fighting was supposed to be happening, it seemed a safe bet that at least some of the orcs were just wandering around as they waited for the main event to kick off or for the main force to arrive. That made them easier to avoid than a dedicated guard patrol, but it still meant keeping an ear out for whenever they got too close.
"If they keep popping up like that, we're going to have a problem." Reaper hissed. "We can still take any of them out quietly if we start losing too much time."
"And hide the bodies where, genius?" Joker countered, having to blink the sting of sweat out of his left eye. "If one of them sees a corpse where it shouldn't, they're gonna get wise that we're here and start looking. And I really don't feel like playing hide and seek with Sauron's minions today."
There was also the unspoken problem of ammunition. You couldn't bring too many supplies with you on an operation like this, needing to be lean and effective to get in and out as quickly as possible without the ability to rely on packs or other aids to store what you needed. And when you were covered in a ghillie suit all day, water was arguably more important to bring along than bullets. Some choices had been obvious, like leaving the Stinger behind with the ATVs wasn't exactly up for debate, assuming that the pattern of not running into any wyverns or other flying vermin thus far would continue to hold true. They'd run a quick estimation on what they were likely to use, including the ammo for the long gun, spare mags for their sidearms as they'd likely have to shoot their way out once the primary objective was complete, and a little bit more for each in case one thing or another went wrong as they usually did. Even then, the Marines didn't bring enough for a shootout while they waited for their prey to show himself, assuming the noise didn't spook him.
"Next time, we're stalking in a jungle where we can feed these guys to animals."
"Shut up and stay quiet. If more come, we'll deal with it then."
And more did come. Three more times they had to stop as a total of five more orcs passed by, heading both to the east and the west, causing more delays but at least not stopping to chat about the daily football scores or whatever as they did so. At least eventually reaching the Hillock proper gave them enough concealment that they wouldn't need to worry about it, even though it came with its own issues. Crawling uphill was never fun even in the best of circumstances, especially when Joker learned the hard way that goat heads still very much existed in the Special Region. He'd once commented to a fellow Sniper that if you weren't bleeding from somewhere by the end, you couldn't call it a true stalk. It wasn't all that funny at the moment.
Then there was selecting the proper position to set up on. It wasn't like the movies where they just climbed to the top of the tallest hill and looked down on all those below. Those kinds of places tended to draw the eye of even casual observers, let alone commanders who were usually mindful of their terrain and the advantages they could over even soldiers with the current technology level they were working with. Their position had to be a place where one would not normally look, or would glance over without paying much attention, and would be unlikely to draw foot traffic due to its out of the way nature or unappealing route to get anywhere. All while still giving the shooter a wide angle to sight out their target. Picking out such a location was a skill in and of itself, but Reaper had picked out an ideal spot that would suit all their needs, even if getting there had been a bit of a hassle.
It was in a slightly off-center patch of ground where two of the rises met, a tree growing crookedly as dead grass and weeds grew around it. It matched their ghillie suits well, had obscured light thanks to the tree's shadow, and still provided good visibility. But it had another drawback along with the path to get there. That kind of natural camouflage had to still appear, well, natural if anyone looked at it. That meant taking things even slower as it had to seem like the grass was only shifting slightly thanks to a breeze or small animal scurrying through as the Marines made their way into concealment and pulled their equipment forward. The barrel of Joker's rifle stuck out just enough that it wouldn't draw any unwanted attention as Reaper finished setting up his spotter's scope. Now, it was a waiting game.
"What do you know, we're somehow not fashionably late."
"Only because the word 'fashionably' has never been used to describe anything you've ever done." Reaper carefully swept his lens back and forth. "Actually, it looks like we're right on time. Our friends are approaching from the east."
As he said, Joker could make out the approaching army through the sights on his rifle. There were a few of those banners flying the House Colors and Wolf Sigils that had been planted around the earlier encampment. The view wasn't dissimilar to that he'd gotten on Alnus Hill during the failed attempt by the locals to retake it, but where those armies had appeared mighty and glamorous, this one seemed far more run down. A display of determination instead of power.
"I'm willing to bet that the uglies won't be all that far behind."
"Probably not. All we have to do now is wait for the party to come to us."
Despite the seriousness of the situation, Joker couldn't help but crack a smile.
Hurry up and wait.
~oOo~
"It would seem the Warlord had chosen to meet your challenge, My Lord."
"How fortunate for us." Hexen swallowed against the lump that was forming in his throat has he saw the distant line of gray skins coming towards them. They weren't close enough to begin their mad berserker charge, but he could still hear the rumblings of their feet and clanking of their jagged weapons growing closer and closer. "Begin forming the lines, it won't be long until they are upon us!"
The warband seemed to be even more bloodthirsty than they'd expected, as they had come across several dozen orc vanguards as they'd traveled that had tried to attack one section of their formation or another but had fortunately been intercepted and dispatched by the vigilant Ranger skirmishers who had been watching the army's flanks during the approach. They were so confident in their victory that they allowed such groups to be sent out knowing that they likely wouldn't be returning even if they managed to do some damage.
"What's your measure of things, Myron?"
"Their eagerness can be used against them." The old knight said as they dismounted their horses. "They're less likely to try and fjord the river or climb the hillocks with flanking units. I imagine there will be a few who will be smart enough to attempt such things on their own initiatives, but we'll largely need to worry only about our front."
"Good." Hexen said absently. He'd ordered that a small unit remain on horseback to counter any large-scale attempts by the orcs to cross over one of the natural boundaries, but if Myron was correct, then they may be freed up to help cover any breakthroughs or necessary withdrawals.
His order of battle was not very complex in its nature, allowing Duke Raia to control half the forces on their right and Duchess Elyse those upon the left, while Camp Master Joakim would command the Forest Rangers and archers. Hexen positioned himself slightly behind the front line, allowing him to have a grasp of the current situation and be available to help seal any small breaks in the line. Even on the defense though, their army was in a precarious situation. They had precious few Knights and other experienced troops that they could ill afford to waste early in the battle, but the other large chunk of their troops was inexperienced militia who had never swung their blades outside of training. It was depressing to consider the reality that the once grand army of his House that had not known serious defeat in decades had been reduced to this, even if the bravery of the peasants within the ranks swelled his heart with pride. Still, any such group, even the vaunted Duron Militia would be hard pressed to not break and run when facing down an orc assault, but if Hexen and his advisors had it their way, they would be spared at least the full brunt of such a blow.
Adding to his anxiety was the fact that he didn't know where exactly the Soldiers in Green were preparing their spell, or even if they were in position yet at all. Hexen could try to dispatch Kat or some others to locate them, but that would likely give away their position and thus make the fight even more complicated. He wouldn't know they were there until the violent boom of their staffs casting magic reached his ears.
"They're out there." Someone said into Hexen's thoughts, snapping him back to reality as mentally kicked himself for becoming so distracted so close to the sorry.
"They?" He asked, looking at the speaker.
"The Soldiers in Green. You were looking out across the hillocks." Kat explained. She had volunteered to be his protector of sorts during the fight, much to Myron's objections. But Hexen had overruled him and gratefully accepted. He'd seen her in action during their last skirmish and was confident in her abilities combined with his own to keep the orcs at bay. It also felt appropriate on a personal level. They had met one another near the beginning of this struggle and had been present for much of what had followed. It felt right to fight side by side with her at the climax, Ranger or not. "I don't doubt that they are already where you want them to be, waiting for their moment to strike. Worry less about them and more about what's right in front of us."
"She's right, it's nearly time." Myron said grimly.
The warband was much closer now, and he could make out individual orcs and could hear their shouts and bellows as the hyped themselves up for what was about to happen. There were also sounds coming from his own lines, the gentle rattle of some shaking in their armor, nervous whispering and likely pleading to the gods to have mercy on their souls. It was a chilling dichotomy between the two groups, but one that Hexen had expected and did his best to prepare for. The Lord took in a deep breath, and let the words come to him.
"The might of the Orc Warband is upon is now! See them hurry to their deaths and let not fear cloud your souls!" He shouted loud enough for his voice to be carried to all. "These beasts came to our lands, to our homes, seeking nothing more than those who would cower in fear or flee in terror before them. Yet here you all stand! And they know not what to do but to gore themselves upon your swords and spears in their depraved lust for widespread ruin. Proud Warriors of Duron, today you carry the ultimate burden of defending your homes and families, a challenge that all of you have risen to meet without hesitation! Be you a farmer of the fields or a Ranger of the forest, all have stepped forward to stand shoulder to shoulder, putting the good of all our loved ones before ourselves. Emroy no doubt smiles upon you all this day for dedicating yourselves to such a worthy cause, and I cannot put into words how proud I am to have all of you in my company. Together, we will slay the orcs like the wild beasts they are and show the world that the spirit of our people will NEVER be broken!"
Several cheers rang out at the speech, and it slowly built up until it seemed like the entire army had taken it up and transformed it into a mighty roar that felt like it shook the very ground beneath their feet. As if taking this as a cue, the orcs began their charge forward as the distance between the two groups began to rapidly decrease.
"Archers!" Joakim shouted.
A mass of arrows fired out from the backlines, darkening a patch of sky for a moment as they arced first upwards then back towards the ground. As planned, they struck the very front of the mass, cutting them down in a far more effective barrage then would otherwise have been possible. On their flanks, Rangers posted on the rough hillocks or even in the shallow portions of the river took more precision shots with their bows, all with the goal of knocking down as many of the berserkers as possible. There was more to the actions than just attempting to thin out the Orc ranks. They didn't have unlimited space to move around the fallen with the north and south anchored by nature as they were, which left them with the choice of either slowing down to step over their killed and wounded or else risk tripping over them. The overall effect was a slowing of the much-feared orc berserker charge, allowing the defenders to absorb the attack far easier. They'd managed to avoid immediate disaster, but the battle had only just begun.
The first line was equipped like standard Imperial Infantry, with large shields and spears creating a wall of metal that, had they been facing human opponents, could have held off the enemy fairly easily. But orcs were far larger and stronger than their more common counterparts and could attempt to strike over their protection right at the more vulnerable heads of the soldiers. Or there was always the more forceful option that most of them seemed to be favoring, which was just smashing their shoulders against the shields with their full strength. What had at struck him as a foolish tactic that had likely been born of frustration turned deadly serious when Hexen realized what the orcs were up to. The shields were indeed strong, but they still required a human arm to wield, arms that were not nearly as strong against such pressure. At best, the repeated blows would eventually tire out the soldier in a way that would make it difficult to respond to rapid changes in the fighting. At worst, they could break the arm outright, turning the shield into a handicap as it dragged the wayward bones away from the rest of the body.
The best defense against either outcome was a good offense, as the soldiers stabbed outwards with their spears over and over again to try to stem the tide. It wasn't always effective, as the orc resistance to pain allowed them to keep going unless receiving a critical or fatal wound. This led to the Allied lines being forced back, little by little, as they were quite literally being slammed by a practically unstoppable force repeatedly. And if this turned into an attrition-based fight, then the humans were at a definite disadvantage. They'd have to play for more time.
"Fall back!" Duchess Elyse suddenly yelled out. "Second line, protect their withdrawal!"
Not needing to be commanded again, the first line of infantry began their scamper backwards, some more orderly than orders as they allowed the second line to seemingly take over for them. This was made up of the best Militia House Duron had left, armed with a variety of weapons that showed off their innately decentralized function. Their effectiveness varied wildly, with some of them being cut down within seconds while others were able to stand toe to toe with their foes in the flashes of steel and blood. Even with such showings of heroism, however, this new line wasn't nearly as strong as the one prior. But that wasn't its current role.
"To me!" Hexen commanded, leading the prepared counterattack into the gap that had been created near the center, Kat by his side and a group of Knights at his back.
The orcs, who'd probably thought that they had broken through, were caught off guard by this sudden and violent assault in their preverbal blind spot. The first one that Hexen slew didn't even see him coming before the blade bit into his flesh. The second had barely enough time to turn his way before he was bashed in the face with the Lord's offhand shield and promptly finished off a moment later. Kat, who didn't seem inclined to be outdone, shot off two quick arrows before switching to her short sword and going for the biggest of the orcs before them, looming a head over even most of his fellows. He cried out something in his own language as he saw her coming, rearing back to smash the half elf with a mighty swing. But his weapon wouldn't come back forward again as he attempted to strike. Confused, the orc looked behind him, and saw the small plant that had sprung up from the ground and wrapped itself around the blade. It didn't look terribly strong, and he probably could have pulled it free with a single tug, but Kat's magic had bought her the precious moment of hesitation she'd wanted.
She slid on her knees under the orc's outstretched arm, cutting at his leg and bringing him down to a knee. Before he could react to this sudden reversal of fortune, Kat had leapt atop his back and driven her sword down to its hilt, killing the giant. The other Knights were likewise preforming well, if not nearly as dramatically so, as the orc's advance found itself halted, and about to be reversed.
"Hahaha! Taste cold steel you godless monsters!" Duchess Elyse's voice carried to Hexen's ears, as the old bat led her personal retainers into the thick of it, moving like someone half her age as she wielded a large broadsword that could nearly cut an orc in two.
"I thought you said she wasn't that skilled of a warrior?" Kat asked.
"I said she was past her prime, not that she was incapable." Hexen answered as he pulled his sword out of another fallen orc. "Though the years don't seem to have dampened her…spirit any."
This combined assault, along with the heightened boldness of the still engaged militia, seemed to have encouraged the orcs to pull back slightly, as some fled away from the bloodbath while others tried to redirect themselves to the other areas of battle.
"Shields! Forward!"
Though only given the briefest of respites, the original first line of infantry surged forward once more, beating back the remaining orcs as they reestablished themselves just in time to take on the next wave. They'd still lost some ground, and even a few of the militia and Knights in what they had thought to be a clever ruse. It had gone better than Hexen had hoped, but the overall effect on the orcs seemed to be rather negligible. And even their brutish enemy wasn't liable to fall for the same trick twice, especially as the shield wall slowly lost more and more of its numbers.
"The center!" Myron shouted. "They're trying to break through the center!"
Hexen looked towards the indicated part of the battle just in time to see a pair of orcs descend upon one of the spearmen, striking both high and low in a way that knocked the man off balance enough to cut the legs out from under him. They gleefully charged through the small hole in the line, joined by three others before anyone could stop them. Hissing between his teeth, Hexen forced himself to turn his attention to deal with this new problem on his growing list, only to see that others had taken it upon themselves to fix it. The first one that had come through was taken down by an arrow piercing itself into his eye, falling in death just as Myron raced in to take on the next in line. The old knight, apparently unable to stand aside even in his diminished physical capacity, showed no hesitation as he slammed his shoulder into the orc at a full charge. The weight of armor and inertia were enough to knock the monster to the ground.
But even as Myron was driving his sword through that orc's gut, another was coming up from his rear to get vengeance for his ally. Before Hexen could even form words of warning in his mouth, Joakim had appeared seemingly in the blink of an eye, blade in each hand. The back of the orc's legs suddenly was spouting black blood, sending it tumbling backwards as the Camp Master smoothly stabbed at the neck before it could hit the ground.
There was no moment to appreciate the efficiency of this dance of death as the last two orcs became wise to this threat, each choosing one of the older humans as their targets. Myron didn't seem to be concerned by this, taking an almost casual step backwards to let the orc's attack strike on the shoulder of his missing arm, the ax striking at an awkward angle which bounced it off without even transferring much force. The orc seemed to be too slow to even acknowledge this before Myron's sword struck the crown of its head. The last fared no better, Joakim throwing his offhand weapon when he was at five paces, burying itself just above the ribs of the orc who wasn't quite slowed, but was thrown off his step, leaving Joakim an easy strike at just below the armpit.
"I'm starting to feel like the older group is showing us up just a tad bit." Hexen remarked dryly at the impressive display.
"At least they're killing the orcs instead of each other." Kat tried to laugh at her own joke, but the smile didn't reach her eyes. "...How long will we be able to hold out like this?"
"As long as it takes." Hexen answered, not needing to say the alternative out loud.
~oOo~
"Jesus man, all of these fucking guys look the same to me!"
The growing desperation in Reaper's whisper was being matched by Joker's own feelings. The fighting was already well underway, the sounds of battle carrying the clash of steel and final moments of soldiers. They'd waited patiently at their observation post, seeing the orcs pass by as they searched for this damn warlord to show himself. They'd thought that it would be easy, or least not take too long once things started getting heated. After all, they had carried out operations similar to this one plenty of times. Providing overwatch over an area and taking out the bad guys when they showed up was damn near half their job. Picking out targets and taking out targets, it was practically routine. There was no reason to believe this would be any different.
But it was different. And they were no closer to wrapping this shit up then they had been when this all started. The orcs didn't seem to move in any clear formations like those they had faced before, rather they just moved in a mass horde of flesh and metal that were so tightly packed together that Joker had double checked more than once to make sure that there weren't any that had two heads or five arms thanks to tricks of the light. And all of them were shouting, a constant barrage of shrieks and bellows that would have put the largest of screamo concerts to shame. The whole thing was a full-frontal barrage on the senses that made it difficult to keep your focus on any one thing. Yet even all that wouldn't have mattered nearly as much had they been on a modern battlefield, where spacing and unit separations were part of any military's basic tactics and would make sighting out individual targets far easier.
These orcs, without even realizing it, were carrying out the best tactic they could at the moment to protect their leader. Being so tightly packed together and moving around like they were turned the objective of finding the "unique" looking among them into an exercise of futility, especially since this warlord hadn't done them the common courtesy of most powerful douchebags of dressing so outlandishly that they would have stood out even at a modern fashion show. Worst still, the way that many of the orcs were nearly leaping over one another in eagerness to was making it difficult even to tell where one was a moment before and the next. It was a game of Where's Waldo in a river of Waldo's.
Perhaps finding him in the crowd would have been idiot obvious to someone like Kat or Hexen, who had lived with orcs as part of their world for all their lives. But it wasn't to the Sniper and Spotter.
"Maybe we should just lob a shot in there." Joker suggested. "Stir the pot and see if we can't flush the bastard out."
"Great idea, give away our position and THEN try to find the guy." Reaper shot back. "We have no idea if he'll even react differently than the others. More to the point You saw how these guys reacted in the village. They aren't scared when they hear us shooting, if anything they seem encouraged by it. Even if they can't see us, they'll probably swarm in this direction and kick us in the process. We waste our shot; we're probably not getting another."
He clenched his fist in impotent anger. His partner was right, they had somehow become powerless in the situation where the marines were the key to everything not falling apart. And while they were uselessly trying to find the needle in a field of haystacks, people were dying. Waiting for them to do something.
'Enjoy this while you can, you SOB.' Joker thought. 'I'm going to find you, one way or another. Then your ass is grass.'
~oOo~
Something had gone wrong.
They had been fighting longer and harder than Hexen had estimated it would take for the Soldiers in Green to make their move. Yet there had not been the booming sound of their deadly spell being cast, and the orcs had not so much as paused in their relentless assault. And that hadn't gone unnoticed by the others.
"Damned mercenaries." Myron cursed between heavy breaths. "Should have known they would have fled from danger at the first opportunity."
"That doesn't make any sense!" Kat argued, refilling her quiver as fast as she could before the next breach could be made. "Why would they go to all the trouble that they did if they were just to abandon us?"
"Perhaps they simply get cruel enjoyment from giving others false hope."
"Mercenaries are driven by love of coin, not cruelty. They would not just give up on the riches I was offering on a whim." Hexen said, eyes sweeping the front back and forth in search of the inevitable next crisis. "Something else has happened, something that's prevented or perhaps is currently preventing them from carrying out their role."
"Then what should we do? We don't even know if the Soldiers in Green are alive!"
"What if we made a withdrawal? Buy time to send out scouts to locate them if they yet live. We'll have to give up our field advantage, but it would at least give us an opportunity to fight again."
"That would be a fine idea, if these orcs would give us even the briefest of reprieves." Hexen growled. "If we tried to flee now, the orcs would simply run us all down. Maybe those on horseback could escape, but that wouldn't leave nearly enough survivors to carry on the fight."
He'd known that would be the most likely outcome when selecting where to meet the warband. The terrain favored the allied army only so long as they stood and fought together. The moment that started to collapse, they all were likely to be slaughtered. Just another part of the desperate gamble that the Lord had taken with all their lives. A gamble that was looking increasingly likely to utterly fail.
"T-they're breaking through! We need to retreat!" A familiar shrill cry came out. It was easy to locate Duke Raia in his far too fanciful armor fleeing to the rear as the orcs seemed to have finally whittled away at the spearmen on his line.
"Bollocks, Right Flank!" Myron called, as the floodtide seemed to begin to roll over the defenders. This wasn't just a handful of orcs getting through to harass the rear, this was a threat to the entire formation that could shatter everything if not handled quickly.
"Call upon the mounted troops!" Hexen ordered. "Have them move forward and shore up the right!"
"But my Lord!" Raia protested breathlessly. "We can't possibly-"
"Spare our ears from your whinging, spineless fool!" To everyone's surprise, Elyse went running past the Duke while knocking him into the mud. "If you won't fight, then you're a waste of good blood!"
"Duchess, wait!" Hexen ordered, dumbfounded as to why the commander of his left had taken it upon herself to move to the opposite side of the line without his orders. Was the hatred she felt for her fellow noble so intense? Or was her own pride driving her to seek victory where others failed? It didn't matter at this moment, especially as she seemed to be completely ignoring her lord as she came to blows with the enemy again.
Gritting his teeth in frustration at seemingly everything, he joined in the fighting with his three current companions. But none of them were nearly as fast as the old bat who seemed to have gone even more berserker than their enemies as she fearlessly charged into the melee. It seemed like the stuff of ballads at first, slicing through orc after orc as if were part of her daily routine.
But Elyse's enthusiasm carried her too far ahead of her allies, the remnants of her household guard being quickly overwhelmed by the large numbers of enemies that had begun closing around them. The duchess didn't notice when she was left all alone, wasn't able to hear the warnings over the sound of crashing metal, and didn't even seem to feel a thing until the orc's blade was protruding through her torso. Elyse looked at the weapon that was drenched in her own blood, head moving to the side as if in curiosity. She was lifted off her feet as the orc presented her to his fellows as if some kind of trophy for all to admire. It was a short-lived victory however, as the veteran warrior used the last of her strength to draw the dagger at her side and drove it between the eyes of her killer. The orc fell, taking Duchess Elyse down with him.
Hexen wasn't sure what happened next, his vision swirling with red as his muscles seemed to move entirely on their own to exact the cold vengeance his soul was screaming for. Elyse had been someone even his father had looked up to while growing up, and whose exploits as one of the few female knights in the Empire brought great glory to her own family and those of House Duron. She deserved to sit on those laurels for the rest of her life. She deserved better than this.
The Duchess was already dead by the time they reached her, a pile of orcs around her as a grizzly final accomplishment to show to the world that even the ravages of age had not been what finally brought her down.
"She died a warrior's death." Myron said, his voice gravelly. "We can all only hope to be so fortunate."
Hexen wanted to snap back at him that nothing about this was fortunate, it had been a damn waste. Had she just listened, had she not been determined to counter the cowardly nature of Duke Raia, she'd still be alive.
An honorable warrior's death was still just a death.
"Mourn our losses when the battle is over." Joakim scolded. "Lest we join their ranks."
Hexen was unable to answer, pulling himself together again as a fresh batch of orcs descended upon the still reeling defenders. Kat and Joakim did their best to keep them at range with their bows, those that managed to slip through being dealt with by the better armored Hexen and Myron as their swords seemed to grow all the heavier in their grasps. It seemed like an agonizingly long time before the reinforcements the Lord had called for arrived, their formation was once again stabilized soon after, but it had cost them too much, both in ground given and lives taken. Without Duchess Elyse, he'd lost one of his key commanders, and Duke Raia almost certainly couldn't be trusted to keep his nerve as their fortunes grew worse.
But if withdrawal would have been disastrous before, it would be a downright suicidal move now. If they didn't find a way to turn this around soon, then Hexen almost certainly was doomed to follow in his father's footsteps: leading his army into oblivion.
