Smite thy foes
Before us lay this tattered field. To the side a remnant of an old
forest, memories of happiness within now a forgotten pleasure. The
roots dug deep beneath the earth, nourishing on the moisture of the river
and the rain, soon to be ensanguined with the bitter taste of conquered foes.
"My lord Jethro's vanguard is preparing to advance, I fear we should not
tarry here. We must meet them sire."
A wave of my hand quieted my loyal friend. His advice was sometimes
useful though not always. This day I had my own plan and Marco would
heed my words without question.
"Nay my proud warrior. They would seek to deliver us into the jaws
of Fearful Fred's warriors. I see them lurking deep within that forest.
Fear not and do not quail at the darkness of his foul sorcery. Let
them taste the teeth of Manogurs battalion. They may only number twenty
but the dread will surely take them to the halls of their ancestors."
Marco nodded and we watched as the vanguard advanced and stopped. Jethro
knew I'd seen his ruse and his army beckoned us to the field of battle.
I would have none of it and told my archers to prepare before the onset of
Manogur.
Another echelon of Jethro's might emerged Norman the slayer. Ne'er
had such a title been more truly merited. The slayer earned his reputation
at the sacking of Londeruan. The town had surrendered but this was
not enough for Norman. Men and women were slain and ravaged by his
hordes. Children slaughtered for his entertainment in the wolf pits
of sorinor and any left alive were taken to the flesh palaces of Eranor for
his needs. Ever since that day no-one ever surrendered to him, better
to die in glory than be the vile instrument of base pleasure.
"Loose."
Now the first soldiers were in range it was time for arrows to do their worst.
Scores of men fell, but their number was many. Terrible their rage
but soon their crossbows would be firing at us. Another salvo fell
on them and more fell and their fury was rampant.
"Charge."
It was Jethro. His armour was enchanted and the arrows that struck
him just fell broken at his side. He unleashed his sword, cruel and
wicked and the bearer of woe to many young soldiers. Now their crossbows
were in range and a terrible gust fell on the front lines. Many of
my brave young orcs fell to this fould rain.
"Prepare Manogour, let's see how they like the fury of the trolls."
Managour. A potent ally at great times of need. He was ancient
but wise, years spent in purifying his soul so as not to be soiled by the
pursuit of pleasure. Off the field of battle he was witty, charming
and a great friend. To his enemies though he was terror and now was
his time.
He charged forth aided by the skeletal army of Corinar. The humans
had now breached poor Foracs flank and he bade a retreat. He had done
well to stall them for so long but he was army were no match for Jethro's
devils.
Managour came across Jethro with a hammer blow that shook the earth.
The devils now fearing for their souls as men were hacked apart by cruel
clubs with gnarly spikes on their end. Jethro himself was hard put
but Norman now came to his aid. Managour was fey as he chased Jethro
from the battleground and left himself open to a charge from Norman.
Norman's army had swords ready to hack down troll flesh. I took no
pleasure as my old friend was cruelly hacked apart, this fine troll now dismembered
and his head stuck on the lance of one of Norman's knights.
Corinar was driven into the forest but alas he then ran into Freds army.
The skeletons no match for the heavy warriors who ambushed them. It
was a rout and now the three armies converged towards my position.
Fools. I had one last nasty surprise for them.
I drew forth my silver horn and blew long and hard. My clarion call
was answered and my army of divine wings now dived down upon the stricken
armies. The dragons had come.
The three leaders stood no chance as purifying flames rent them asunder.
I saw Jethro fall under the claws of Tarremok the Black and Norman met a
similar end. Fred's army burned as the forest was set ablaze and I
wept at the ruination of such fine trees. They would be re-sown.
We had one but this orc cheered not. I cried at the loss of my good
friends Managour and Corinar and the field of battle would be cherished in
their memory. The dragons, so magnificent yet so benevolent bade their
farewells and the great evil would pass for a while.
"Let us enjoy the peace our brave fallen have earned us."
I saluted my army and my departed friends before I too left the field.