horde were dwindling. Apparently the villagers and dwarves had a contingency plan for such events. The villages could be seen with prefabricated and hastily erected defenses, their garrisons aided by the appearance of even more dwarven troops.
Ghalik had sent runners to the southern orc clans in hopes of reinforcement even before he had set out on this campaign and left Ma-Gur’s illfated forces behind, but the likelihood of both the runner’s survival and a favorable response from the Angir’s stooped counterparts was slim. Perhaps if they had also suffered the attacks of the dwarf and elf aided crusaders the southern orcs would come, but it was an inconsequential thing. Ghalik had the immediate situation to deal with.
Two regiments of dwarven shock troops had used their superior familiarity with the terrain to outmaneuver the horde, trapping them at the bottom of a gorge. Even now as Ghalik looked on the dwarven regiments came at them, one from each end of the gorge. In such narrow confines the horde would not be able to escape, and if the fight lasted for too long one of the other dwarven companies that scoured the land might have the chance to join in. It seemed as if their time was at an end.
With a grunt of resignation Ghalik raised his waraxe and began to chant the language of magic. The stalwart dwarven column continued to march towards the waiting horde as tendrils of energy began to creep along the shaft of the wizard’s axe. Never the sort to wait for a fight to come to them, the trolls bellowed their war cries and followed Reygoth in a charge against the oncoming line of dwarves. The knot of troll warriors crashed into the dwarven ranks, Reygoth’s greatsword cutting a bloody swathe as he waded into the enemy. Despite their initial losses the robust dwarves bravely met the charge with axe and hammer.
First a trickle, then a flood of orcs began to follow suit. Rushing into the fray, partly out of bloodlust and impatience, partly because they knew and feared Ghalik’s magic. Thus the company of dwarves steadily marching towards the center of the gorge found themselves facing only the orcish wizard and Ca’tic’na’s goblins.
Ghalik’s eyes glowed with a sickly green light as he finished the arduous spell. The sounds of combat rang in his ears, but he heard only the rush of energy as it coursed through his body. He voiced a great bestial roar and swung his glowing axe at the ground directly in front of him. When the blade bit into the gorge floor a loud boom sounded, and the ground in front of the wizard shook with an unfathomable force. The power of the earthquake spell brought the vast majority of the marching dwarves to the ground.
The goblins, whose cowardice was dissipated by the sight of so many fallen enemies, rushed forward like a swarm of giant insects. Their spears and shortswords claimed many dwarven lives before the stout warriors were able to fight back. By that time Ghalik himself slammed into them. Like an army unto himself he laid about him with the waraxe, still crackling with energy and now slick with smoking blood.
Okada and Ma-Gur reached the slopes of the gorge just as Ghalik’s earthquake spell felled the dwarves on that end of the gorge. The large orc warrior had been met by the smaller ranger while on his way towards the horde. Okada had told him of the unforeseen dwarven tactic, and to consider himself lucky he hadn’t run afoul of any patrols on his way to the horde. The two of them had led their forces to the gorge in an attempt to turn the battle in their favor. They watched as Ghalik slaughtered the dwarven shock troops, yet they could see that the old wizard was wounded many times over and getting weaker.
“Okada, you and your goblins do what you can for Ghalik. I will finish the dwarves on the other end,” stated the large orc. At the commanding tone Okada initially bristled but could see the determination and confidence in Ma-Gur’s eyes, so chose not to
Ghalik had sent runners to the southern orc clans in hopes of reinforcement even before he had set out on this campaign and left Ma-Gur’s illfated forces behind, but the likelihood of both the runner’s survival and a favorable response from the Angir’s stooped counterparts was slim. Perhaps if they had also suffered the attacks of the dwarf and elf aided crusaders the southern orcs would come, but it was an inconsequential thing. Ghalik had the immediate situation to deal with.
Two regiments of dwarven shock troops had used their superior familiarity with the terrain to outmaneuver the horde, trapping them at the bottom of a gorge. Even now as Ghalik looked on the dwarven regiments came at them, one from each end of the gorge. In such narrow confines the horde would not be able to escape, and if the fight lasted for too long one of the other dwarven companies that scoured the land might have the chance to join in. It seemed as if their time was at an end.
With a grunt of resignation Ghalik raised his waraxe and began to chant the language of magic. The stalwart dwarven column continued to march towards the waiting horde as tendrils of energy began to creep along the shaft of the wizard’s axe. Never the sort to wait for a fight to come to them, the trolls bellowed their war cries and followed Reygoth in a charge against the oncoming line of dwarves. The knot of troll warriors crashed into the dwarven ranks, Reygoth’s greatsword cutting a bloody swathe as he waded into the enemy. Despite their initial losses the robust dwarves bravely met the charge with axe and hammer.
First a trickle, then a flood of orcs began to follow suit. Rushing into the fray, partly out of bloodlust and impatience, partly because they knew and feared Ghalik’s magic. Thus the company of dwarves steadily marching towards the center of the gorge found themselves facing only the orcish wizard and Ca’tic’na’s goblins.
Ghalik’s eyes glowed with a sickly green light as he finished the arduous spell. The sounds of combat rang in his ears, but he heard only the rush of energy as it coursed through his body. He voiced a great bestial roar and swung his glowing axe at the ground directly in front of him. When the blade bit into the gorge floor a loud boom sounded, and the ground in front of the wizard shook with an unfathomable force. The power of the earthquake spell brought the vast majority of the marching dwarves to the ground.
The goblins, whose cowardice was dissipated by the sight of so many fallen enemies, rushed forward like a swarm of giant insects. Their spears and shortswords claimed many dwarven lives before the stout warriors were able to fight back. By that time Ghalik himself slammed into them. Like an army unto himself he laid about him with the waraxe, still crackling with energy and now slick with smoking blood.
Okada and Ma-Gur reached the slopes of the gorge just as Ghalik’s earthquake spell felled the dwarves on that end of the gorge. The large orc warrior had been met by the smaller ranger while on his way towards the horde. Okada had told him of the unforeseen dwarven tactic, and to consider himself lucky he hadn’t run afoul of any patrols on his way to the horde. The two of them had led their forces to the gorge in an attempt to turn the battle in their favor. They watched as Ghalik slaughtered the dwarven shock troops, yet they could see that the old wizard was wounded many times over and getting weaker.
“Okada, you and your goblins do what you can for Ghalik. I will finish the dwarves on the other end,” stated the large orc. At the commanding tone Okada initially bristled but could see the determination and confidence in Ma-Gur’s eyes, so chose not to
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