WAR!!! Blood upon the Battlefield

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OOC: ok exams are finished....lets get a battle started (or should i say WAR!!!).

STORY: The first line of orcs now in the centre of the valley made ready their crude weapons and made ready for battle as their champions and leaders gave orders to stand ready. A loud echoing bellow ran through the entire valley as the 8 foot lond orcish warhorn signaled the first wave to attack! Massive boulders and ballistie flew over the heads of the greenskins, crashing down inaccuratley around the masses of tents in the mercinary camps.

IC: Feirhanith turned to thank his comrades for their help with the successful eradication or this orc seige position when a massive shockwave passed through the clearing. Knowing the sound of the an orcish warhorn from many encounters against orcs Feirhanith immediately put the murmers of uncertanty to rest as he ordered atop of his voice "MOUNT UP! the orcs attack".
Men rushed to their horses picking up what ever was left of their original weapons from the battle, pulling lances from the limp corpses of orcs or replacing broken swords with a fallen comrade's.
One hundred and eight men remained of Feirhanith's original one hundred and fortytwo. They stood in two ranks along the edge of the clearing as Feirhanith rode up and down along the line addressing his men. "I am pleased with the courage and valor that you and the fallen have embodied today, but we still have much to......" a series of loud booms interupted the paladin, indicating the siege fire from the orcs upon the mercinary camp. "Sergeant Llagret take thirty men and go find Drazhar. Tell him to assemble his pathfinders and destroy the second seige line ranging from the east side to behind the orc encampment. When he goes stay with him and his pathfinders to give support to them when they need it, you will follow orders from Drazhar until i order you otherwise, understand?"
"YES SIR!" the sergeant bellows as he leads his thirty men off into the woods to find the pathfinder commander.
Turning to the rest of his men Feirhanith preaches "It is our duty to protect the innocent now and we must halt the orc threat. We will try to turn their flank, follow my lead and i shall lead you to victory!"
A loud cheer went up from his men and they made their final checks to thier armour and weapons. Feirhanith followed by the remainder of his men rode out of the clearing and into the trees to position themselves atop a tree covered incline that looked over the centre of the valley waiting for the moment to strike.

 

Turning from Khazar now he had heard the orcish horn he ran into the forest, aiming, not for the mercanary camp, but for the orcish settlement. He heard the sounds of fighting in the background and he was tempted to run back and kill some orcs there but he continued on, his mission was of importance.

OoC: how far away is the orcish settlement from where he started and how long will it take to get there?

 

ooc: the main orc settlement is roughly about a 20 minute run. far enough so you can see it but not in detail! well that was the whole point of this 'hidden' siege position, so they could be close to the mercinary camp....the same goes for the other side of the valley with many other small emplacements scattered in various places in the woods on either side of the valley all the way back to the orc camps.

ok i hope that clears it up a bit for you all.

 

As he neared the encampment Lailyn moved slower and more carfully, sneaking through the shadows. He swore suddenly, realising that his plan to kill the lead orc could be improved but it could take too much time. After a moment of indecision he turned back to find Lorand...

ooc: Lorands still about to die isn't he?

 

The peasant recruits fell upon the first small group of orcs. Behind them camp-followers were hastily erecting a screen of tower shields for the protection of the stretcher-bearers scampering to the wounded men. In one movement Hoffman ran the lead orc through with his sabre, it fell, clutching at its guts spilling on the ground. The others ducked and batted aside faltering spear points, to bury their axes bloodily in peasant's chests. Five more men fell before the orcs were overcome by sheer weight of numbers, one decapitated by the sergeant's sword and three impaled on cheap spears.

In the main body of the camp, some way behind the front lines, Thaddeus looked up from his cauldron and sighed as his assistant returned from the quartermaster's empty handed. "I am sorry, master," the assistant said, " The stores are running low on many vital ingredients. If this keeps up we shall have to abandon the soup and start serving gruel to the soldiers." The large florid man shuddered at the thought of cooking gruel and wiped the sweat off his forehead. Suddenly the trumpets sounded around the camp, and Thaddeus almost dropped his ladle into the soup. "Dear Gods..." he exclaimed... "they are coming..."

 

oock back from holiday now i meen business.

Khazar after clearing his head mounts his horse and signals to his elven warriors.

"Lythan follow me with all the troops."

As they rode on to the direction that Feirhanith disappeared to they came to a large valley.

"Feirhantih must have gone over to the other side we'll go down this side to the mercenary camp and protect the builders till they finish that 8 foot palisade wall."

Khazar's troupe charged down the hill taking out the first line of orcs, and retreated back to the mercenary camp and formed an impenetrable line. Ready for the rush of orcs that where now about 7 minutes walking speed away.

"Ready yourselves they won't give up till the camp falls."

 

Drazhar looks over his shoulder, and at the indescision of the apprentice mages face.
Opening his mouth to speak to the young man, he quickly closes it at the arival of loud horns being sounded and the noise of the camp being bombarded by the orc siege weapons.
Pulling on the boys arm he leads him in the direction he sent the pathfinder's on.
Running over his mision brief carefuly, he looks back to the time he recieved Feirhanith's letter.
It was a short one, and a letter that got straight to the point of the matter.
A war was being raged against the small setlement and he was being called back to the small group of adventurers to help.
His mision was to gather as many trustworthy and adept assasins, rogues, and swashbucklers as posible and make it to the orcis campsite, and kill the orc general, and hopefuly, seriously hinder the orcs progress in battle.
He had sent of his squad to do the mission, in hopes they would reach the target, and terminate before being found out.
Fierhanith had assured him that no other member of the mercanery army would know about the pathfinders, in case of capture or torture.
Now moving through the forest, with a strugling apprentice to a dying archmage under his wing, he was not so sure how would be able to complete the "Mission" in complete stealth.

 

Getting sick of, well, pretty much everything in general, Lailyn yelled out "Khazar! Feirhanith! Lorand! Where the f*cking hell are you!!!" He could here the sound of the orcish warhorn yet he still held his ground, hoping to find someone that could help him. Especially a wizard.

 

STORY: the first group of about 400 orcs reached the walls of the encampment, many falling victim to the hidden steak pits that surounded it like a moat. the second group of orcs consisting of about 600 orcs was about five minutes behind.

ooc: im going to introduce another character that i will control soon but i wiil wait for a few more posts before i do.

 

OOC: back from hols now, sorry for posting delays.
Yes, Lorand is near-dead, Kendil is approx. 100-300 metres away from Feirhanith's Camp.

IC: Lorand knew his time was nigh-out, as waves upon waves of greenskins could be seen attacking from the woods. Several black-feathered arrows were pertruding from his robed chest, making breathing extremely difficult. He kept his wits about however, discipline is not something this job allowed him to loose.
Letting off another fireball, the Mage saw as yet more orcs tumbled down the now charred black hill, only to be replaced by several more.
His summoned creatures were buying him precious minutes to his life he knew, and prepared to let of another powerful spell.

Kendil nearly fell over after the ground began to shake beneath his feet. Looking back behind him, he felt the sudden urge to bend over and throw up. Several orcs where flung high in the air by explosion after explosion. Screams of rage could be heard, but he knew there was nothing he could do.

Lorand was nearly done for, but he had completed the process. He could now allow himself to die, knowing his arcane powers would serve him, and the good for all, well on the moment of his death.
He silently dispelled his protections, knowing he had no spells left to use, and allowed the orcs to fire at him, knowing they would be thrown into oblivion the moment that arrow pierced his skull.

Through his last moment, he saw a thin figure sneaking in the trees... Lailyn he thought... No!

 

"Lorand!" he yelled out as he saw the orcs begin to take aim. The orcs were slightly startled by his yell and bought him a few seconds more. Lailyn had absaloutly no idea what the hell he should do but heh, he was gonna try anyway. Arrows began to fly through the air as the orcs opened fire at him. Lailyn used all of his agility to dodge and roll from them and even manages a few shots of his own.
He ran out of the cover of the trees, out to the wizard Lorand.
He had no practical plan and no idea what he could possibly do whiole he made up one but all he knew was that he had to keep Lorand alive. He wasn't even powerful enough to cast a healing spell.
Arrows cliped his heals in his desparate run and some flew past not inches from his head.
He knew that he was in trouble now and turned sharply and dived back into the trees.
Suddenly he had a bright idea and began to climb a tree that had a good view of where the mage was. He could see that Lorand was near his death and began prematuraly avenging him with a rage he had felt many times before in his short life.
Orc after orc fell to his bow but there seemed an endless supply of the monsters and he was almost out of arrows!
"Kendil!" he cried out in desparation, for his list of allies was getting quite short.
He fired his last arrow and droped his bow before readying his weapons for meelee.

 

The nearest orc burts into a sudden blaze before Lailyn could jump from the tree, it's companion looked round wild eyed for an attacker but could see none. It too burst up in flames.

The apprentice could hear his master protest in his head, but would not obey. Accompanied back to camp by several Battle Mages of the Red Order, Kendil had heard Lailyn's plea for help, and had come running to his aid.
One of the mages had been sent back to the Commander ordering help, the attackers had come a different route than suspected..

Lorand shook his had, what a bloody idiot! Had he not offered his damned apprentice so much free time from his studies, the boy might have listened. "What does it matter anyway" he said to himself, "we're all dead".
With that, he let his head fall onto the ground, his chest nearly bled dry from the blood that stained his normally grey robe..

 

A wave of orcs ran through the trees into the opening, seeing their comrades set ablaze by the wretched elven magic users. The group all stopped as one in a face off with the few elven stragelers left here in a triumphant but silent exclamation to these grose enemy. The orc warboss stepped forward from it's fellow orcs lifting it's great battleaxe in one hand above it's head followed by a great bellow from it's lungs to symbolize victory for him and his troupe.
It's cry was suddenly cut off with a great thud followed by a wheezing noise, the warboss hunched over. The fellow orc's looked on expectantly at their commander waiting for a sign to advance but no words came from his lips. The great black skinned boss swivelled on his feet trying to flee back towards his orcs, he stumbled forward, then fell to the ground with his lifeblood flowing onto the damp ground; an arrow imbedded in his throat, the culpret. The closest of the orcs turned to flee, then all madness broke loose. Many dozens of arrows rained down with almost amazing accuracy taking most of the still unweary orcs to the ground in a fray of bloody ichor and screams of death. A great booming encircled the glade as riders bearing garments with a blue griffon upon white passed through like a cloud in a hurricane, and were gone.
Ghredbyn rode into the clearing, he was a tall, dark haired man dressed also in the garments of the blue griffon upon white. A large round, domed shield was strapped to his back, a sword strapped also upon his back under the shield, the hilt protruding above his left shoulder. In his hand he held a longbow of fine craft.
"My name is Ghredbyn, we have come as soon as we were able to mount up. Are you all alright?"


Feirhanith could see the sea of greenskins wash up against the makeshift barricade that the pallisade wall formed, it would not hold long under that strain. "Now is the time! follow me to vicory!" The column of heavy calvalry charged down the hill with great speed towards the rear of the orcs. Closing all the time Feirhanith gave the word of readyness, each man lowering his lance for combat. The metal of heavy helms, plate mail, mail and the barding of the horses adding their own battlecry to that of the warriors they were made for called for the death of the orcs upon this day.
They were closing with every passing second, the line getting nearer. Feirhanith could see the rear line of orcs ahead turning to welcome their reinforcements only to see that they were being cagged in by the mercinary forces. The greenskins desperately trying to warn their own forces ahead of the threat behind were silenced as the first of the lances struck orc flesh...........

ooc: im going on holiday on monday for 2 weeks so i can't join in to help with the sory for a while, so please keep it going and exciting(interesting). i expect to see a much developed story when i get back and you all on at least page 4!

 

Thanmein turned around at the sound of the riders pouring from the dark treeline, his red robes swirling around him; who where they? The mages around, mostly human looked in disbelief at the astounding accuracy of the foreign warriors, while the elven among them nodded silent thanks to fate for intertwining theirs with the rescuers.

Kendil looked up into the green eyes of an tall, dark haired man, clad in white and blue, his shield and shining sword illuminated brightly in the evening light.
Almost transfixed to the spot by his close brush with death, Kendil's mind quickly snapped out of his reverie, "Quickly friend, I do not know who you are, but we must get help! My master is dying!"
"Hush child", one of the elder mages added, "It is true that he is treading the line, but there is nought we could do, he would wish against it".
Kendil looked around wild-eyed, while the elder men and elves alike shook their heads in sadness. He saw Lailyn leaning against a tree, a dark look on his face; "Lailyn!" the young man called, "What do we do? You are surely the wisest amongst us, what is to be done? As apprentice to the Archmage, I now technically have command over the magical division, and hand it to you Half-Elf." Kendil told him. "You are to decide what will happen, you know these parts do you not?"

 

"Me? Wise? What absaloute bull. Now where the hell are the clerics!!!" he yelled out, his continual rage getting the better of him again. After a slight pause he turned to the mages. How many of you know and have fireball in your memories?"
He got a number of nods from the crowd, which for his desparate plan was good. "Ok, now I would like to propose a plan. I say that we simply walk up onto the mountains surrounding the orcs camp and let go with everything we've got. Simple, isn't it. Now while your doing that, I'm gonna find me a damnable cleric that can help Lorand, whether he likes it or not." After making his anouncement he took off through the forest towards the meranary camp, not caring if it was currantly under seige.

 

Whilst most of the attention was diverted to Kendil and Lailyn, handing out orders, Drazhar had walked up to the near gone archmage.
squatting on his heels at the mages side he gingerly feels the old mans throat.
Shaking his head he prepares to stand and leave, but, the mages hand clasping his arm in a fierce grip that Drazhar would never had thought would be posible from a dying man, was preventing him from standing.
With a harsh exhalation of air from the archmages lungs he motions for Drazhar's ear.
"Protect him. You are the assasin, are you not?"
Lorand draws him near and tries to get his words out with the last of his breath.
Noting Lorands struggle, Drazhar reaches under his cloak and opens a small vial of blue liquid. Pooring it on the shaking lips of the old man he informs him,
"This will soothe the pain, so as your last moments are not ones of suffering."
Coldness slowly floods through lorands chest and the pain is taken away, allowing a few more minutes before his time.
"Protect the boy, he is but an apprentice, but he has a large potential. I had hoped a war would help him in his training, but the blasted thing has robbed me of my chance to help him. I need you to get him through this."
Drazhar nods his assent, and as the attention is turned back to Lorands body, Drazhar has once again faded with the shadows.

 

While noting and nodding at Lailyn's suppoposed 'plan' thinking it absurd, he glanced back at his dead masterl quickly noticing, with his magically attuned senses, a tall, dark figure silently creeping away. This 'thing' had been stalking him all the way here he noted, and not bein a stupid apprentice, he silently as ever slipped away from the crowd of elderly men and insane elves.

Coming up the crest of the hill, he looked down to face his deceased master, his keener-than-normal eyes noticing the transparent-blue liquid on his dry lips.
He gazed into the shadows, silently muttering to himself, too quiet for the others to hear, but more than loud enough for anyone lurking in the dark treeline; "Who are you..?"

 

Stalking through the trees, Drazhar takes sight of the situation.
The merc camp now safe, the wave of orcs stopped for the time being and, most importantly, Kendil safe, Drazhar decides to finaly get on with the mission.
Lost in his thoughts he doesn't notice the small brigande of 30 or so men cutting their way through the underbrush.
Several of their number were obviously fighters from their plate and mail armour and the weapons, but the rest were hard to figure out, from the distance he was from them.
One man leading the group had the stripes of a sergeant to him and a rather gaunt face telling experience of battle, more plainly than his stripes did.
Looking around wildly Drazhar wonders how he got so rusty as not to notice them comming a mile away.
The sun was high in the sky, so most shadows were very small and pretty much useless to him, so disapeering would be a problem.
Hugging tight to the nearest oak he manoevers himself out of view from the group. Several paces from him a man crouching low to the ground with bow drawn and short sword lossened in its sheath, was pointing an arrow in his direction.
Drazhar holds his breath and the silver haired man slowly raises one hand.
"Sergeant! I think I've found one of em'!"
Taking a breath through his nostrils and releasing it out slowly through his mouth, Drazhar calmly changes his stance.
"Think you've found who?" Drazhar asks of the soldier.
"You will keep your tongue until the sergeant gets here, and he will be the one asking questions!"
In the lapse of anger the soldier spared for Drazhar he had lowered his bow unintentionaly. Drazhar, taking advantage of this, snaked to one side, span and managed to connect the hilt of the small dagger with the rangers skull.
The rangers vision blurred and white dots spread across his line of sight before letting his bow to drop and the arrow to be launched shaft deep into the ground.
Catching the unconcious body of the ranger, Drazhar slowly lowers him to the ground, but not before the sergeant followed by several soldiers, round the oak tree he was perviously hidden behind.
Now holding the rangers body up as a shield, Drazhar looks from the sergeant to the soldiers and smiles.

 

After walking aimlessly about in the forest, not finding any trace of the thing he saw, he started asking himself If he really did see it... shaking his head, he silently walked back to the clearing, muttering something about old men.

The elderly mages, clearly intelligent, were obviously too thick to think of any wise plan of their own, and hung on to Lailyn's every word. Even if it was only a few, quickly they agreed that they would simply march up to the enemy camp, and let all hell break loose. They quickly started walking off, only to stop and wonder, which direction it was in. Lailyn was gone before they could ask, so they asked the only Diviner amongst them, who sat down and started inscribing arcane symbols upon the grass.

Kendil watched, muttered some more, and sat down, browsing through his thin spellbook, knowing that until the mages came to a conclusion, or Lailyn returned, there was little he could do, but try to memorize some spells for the upcoming battle.

Ooc: Holiday now, and it fits in with Kendil not being able to do anything. So when I get back, i assume the war will be full on, and he will have something to do.

 

Hoffman led his nervous soldiers through the dense forest. He had been joined by a handful of troops that nearby units could spare. It meant that any failings of himself and his men could be reported, but he was grateful for the presence of more experienced and better equipped fighters - and of course, the trackers would surely prove invaluable. These orcs were wily ones, he grudgingly accepted. Every now and again one of the recruits would give a strangled cry and slump to the ground with a black-feathered arrow protruding from his neck or chest. After every incident, he had organised search parties, but his worthless troops had failed to find anything. But things would be different now the trackers were with the regiment...

The soldiers marched on, the trackers in forest green flitting almost invisibly through the trees ahead, the poorly armoured peasants glancing fearfully about, wondering whom the next arrow would strike. Suddenly one of the trackers stopped up short and signalled to the main unit. "We've got the blighter!" muttered Hoffman.

Elsewhere, Ghazgul slouched against a tree, book pressed against his chest, panting for breath. He had lost track of how long he had run, and how many times he had almost been spotted. Danger was ever present now, any orc would kill him for desertion, and any humans or elves would kill him simply for being an orc.