argue.
“Then I’ll meet you in the middle,” Okada uttered as he signaled his goblins to him and un-slung his stolen elvish bow.
As Okada rained down arrows with terrifying accuracy his goblins moved down the slope. Once they were in range they hurled their spears into the dwarven ranks and charged with shortswords at the ready. The dwarves were sufficiently distracted by the surprise assault that their unified assault on Ghalik lessened. Within moments that end of the gorge was jumble of the two groups of goblins and the dwindling numbers of dwarves. Having loosed all of his arrows, Okada bound down the slope with sword in hand. Ghalik fought on, freed from the press of enemies he was more able to choose his targets and conserve his power.
Ma-Gur sprinted back to where his warriors waited, impatient for battle.
“Bring the weapons cart around. Take it to the edge of the slope,” Ma-Gur commanded as he signaled for his warriors to follow him, “We are going to let the wagon run down the slopes before us.”
At in inquisitive glance from a nearby orc Ma-Gur made his intentions clear.
“I mean to use the cart as a battering ram. It will break their ranks and allow us to get close to them. Now move!” he bellowed as the group approached the far slopes.
The remaining trolls under Ma-Gur’s command held the cart poised over the edge, pointed at the tight dwarven ranks. This regiment seemed much larger than the one Ghalik faced, yet as Ma-Gur looked on he was able to see that a third dwarven force had moved in to back up the first group, which had sustained heavy causalities yet held its ground. At Ma-Gur’s signal they heaved the wagon over the edge, the force of their shove sending the cart careening down the slopes towards the dwarves. Following quickly behind the descending makeshift battering ram the orc and troll warriors rushed down into the gorge to aid their comrades.
The dwarves never saw it coming. Without warning the heavy cart full of weapons and armor crashed into the tight ranks of the dwarven soldiers. The short warriors were thrown in every direction as the wagon broke over them, sending it’s cargo of edged metal in every direction as a hapless dwarf was caught in the spokes. The cart broke into several pieces as it flipped end over end before it landed, damaging even more dwarves. Into the gap that was now formed in the dwarven formation poured the descending orc and troll killers. The dwarf line crumbled under the pressure of the two groups of warriors.
Soon the sounds of battle died away as the few dwarves that had survived finally made their escape. The horde had suffered, and was now collectively no more than a strong raiding party in number. Ghalik, weary and wounded, was angry and disappointed. The horde had paved their way down the mountains to the dwarven stronghold with their own lives, only now to be far too few to finish the game. They had marched through army after army and village after village, at least the knowledge of their bloody path was a small comfort. While they could not capture the stronghold, they could always sell their lives against the dwarven regiments still afoot in the land.
Ghalik watched as Ca’tic’na and what remained of his goblins as they worked over the corpses like carrion. Picking out bits of trail rations, weaponry, and other wealth that only goblins could appreciate. His gaze fell upon the fiercely proud Reygoth, harvesting a dwarven skull for his banner, upon which already hung the skulls of several humans. Neither leader seemed to notice the penetrating look of the orc wizard. It seemed to Ghalik that they were proud and accepting of their roles and the situations in which they found themselves.
Ghalik thought perhaps it was for the best that his tribe was dying before his eyes. Mayhap the world would be a better place if loremasters like he and Ca’tic’na died out. The creatures of the world could go on living their lives without the terrible
“Then I’ll meet you in the middle,” Okada uttered as he signaled his goblins to him and un-slung his stolen elvish bow.
As Okada rained down arrows with terrifying accuracy his goblins moved down the slope. Once they were in range they hurled their spears into the dwarven ranks and charged with shortswords at the ready. The dwarves were sufficiently distracted by the surprise assault that their unified assault on Ghalik lessened. Within moments that end of the gorge was jumble of the two groups of goblins and the dwindling numbers of dwarves. Having loosed all of his arrows, Okada bound down the slope with sword in hand. Ghalik fought on, freed from the press of enemies he was more able to choose his targets and conserve his power.
Ma-Gur sprinted back to where his warriors waited, impatient for battle.
“Bring the weapons cart around. Take it to the edge of the slope,” Ma-Gur commanded as he signaled for his warriors to follow him, “We are going to let the wagon run down the slopes before us.”
At in inquisitive glance from a nearby orc Ma-Gur made his intentions clear.
“I mean to use the cart as a battering ram. It will break their ranks and allow us to get close to them. Now move!” he bellowed as the group approached the far slopes.
The remaining trolls under Ma-Gur’s command held the cart poised over the edge, pointed at the tight dwarven ranks. This regiment seemed much larger than the one Ghalik faced, yet as Ma-Gur looked on he was able to see that a third dwarven force had moved in to back up the first group, which had sustained heavy causalities yet held its ground. At Ma-Gur’s signal they heaved the wagon over the edge, the force of their shove sending the cart careening down the slopes towards the dwarves. Following quickly behind the descending makeshift battering ram the orc and troll warriors rushed down into the gorge to aid their comrades.
The dwarves never saw it coming. Without warning the heavy cart full of weapons and armor crashed into the tight ranks of the dwarven soldiers. The short warriors were thrown in every direction as the wagon broke over them, sending it’s cargo of edged metal in every direction as a hapless dwarf was caught in the spokes. The cart broke into several pieces as it flipped end over end before it landed, damaging even more dwarves. Into the gap that was now formed in the dwarven formation poured the descending orc and troll killers. The dwarf line crumbled under the pressure of the two groups of warriors.
Soon the sounds of battle died away as the few dwarves that had survived finally made their escape. The horde had suffered, and was now collectively no more than a strong raiding party in number. Ghalik, weary and wounded, was angry and disappointed. The horde had paved their way down the mountains to the dwarven stronghold with their own lives, only now to be far too few to finish the game. They had marched through army after army and village after village, at least the knowledge of their bloody path was a small comfort. While they could not capture the stronghold, they could always sell their lives against the dwarven regiments still afoot in the land.
Ghalik watched as Ca’tic’na and what remained of his goblins as they worked over the corpses like carrion. Picking out bits of trail rations, weaponry, and other wealth that only goblins could appreciate. His gaze fell upon the fiercely proud Reygoth, harvesting a dwarven skull for his banner, upon which already hung the skulls of several humans. Neither leader seemed to notice the penetrating look of the orc wizard. It seemed to Ghalik that they were proud and accepting of their roles and the situations in which they found themselves.
Ghalik thought perhaps it was for the best that his tribe was dying before his eyes. Mayhap the world would be a better place if loremasters like he and Ca’tic’na died out. The creatures of the world could go on living their lives without the terrible
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