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[Urist Mc Dwarf]

The great fortress stood in a narrow mountain pass. Legions of men, elves, and dwarves manned the walls, while griffons soared above. A lone rider galloped to the gate. He was wounded, his sheathe empty, his shield gone. The messenger let out a cry. The orcish armies were coming. His message proved fairly unneeded, for as soon as he announced it, the orcs arrived. There must have been thousands, rank upon rank of infantry. Ogres and giants and trolls lumbered along side, and dozens of ramshackle catapults and scorpions rolled along at the rear. Warg-riders whooped and called as they marched forwards, and wyverns circled, occasionally diving down above the heads of the orcs.

((What happens next? Up to you!))

[endlessblaze]

the warriors strode out to meet them, though there were only six in number they were the best of the best. sung of in song the word over and
skilled both magic and blade.

 even the orcs knew they would have many casualties

[Cheesecake]

Though the Six fought with skill that graced godhood, they were mortal and fell one by one, taking six days and six nights. By the seventh morning, there remained the Last of the Six, standing under the cold morning sun, her eyes meeting her archenemy.

[endlessblaze]

and the tension in the air drew notice of the gods themselves, they gathered round to watch the battle unfold from the heavens

the last of the fabled six against 100 orcs, was all that remained. for a mere man this would seem suicide, but for the strongest of the six there was a chance of victory