The Tooninator crouched on dead grass with the other champions of Lanternwebs. Behind him the valley floor was covered in thick fog, but here at the entrance to the Forest of funerals the air was dry. In front of them were two squads of mounted orcs, thirty-two in total. Though they had proven reluctant to directly attack the fortress, their presence would still deter migrants and traders.
He thought over the plan: the Lancers of Disembowelment would charge the snipers while The Elder Banners charged the crushers. The Dented Boots would chase any fleeing orcs, and once he had reached the snipers they would be helpless in melee. Simple and direct, the kind of plan that he liked. Though they had closed almost to within bowshot, the orcs still hadn't made a move, instead waiting for them in the forest. No surprise there, thought The Tooninator. They had bows, and orc snipers liked nothing better than to shoot at people trying to close: The orcs could retreat to keep range, and the iron arrows could penetrate most armor, inflicting fatal wounds.
That danger was exactly why Flint had chosen The Tooninator and the Lancers of Disembowelment for this. Each of them was well-practiced with a shield, able to hold it steady against arrows during a charge. Each of them was familiar with armor, able to outrun an orc even in full plate. And each was capable of amazing feats with a sword, able to quickly dispatch any foe once they had closed.
The Tooninator held his sword loosely as the last of the twenty four dwarves that had been chosen for the assault finished their ascent. Flint had chosen an outcrop of the Unnameable Point as their staging area, protected from bowfire by a wall of andesite but close enough that their soldiers would not spread out over their charge and engage the orcs one at a time.
Flint raised his fist, and The Tooninator ran forward, climbing the wall and leading his squad with a howling war cry. To his right, he could see Flint charging the crushers, his axedwarves close behind. The first arrow hit his shield and shattered, spraying fragments of iron though his peripheral vision. The fine steel held, though, and The Tooninator continued to run forward even as he caught more arrows on the broad surface of the shield.
Within seconds, he had closed the distance with the orcs, swinging his sword under the lower edge of his shield to down a beak dog and slipping past it, turning slightly to stab the orc in the spine as she fell from her mount. A wrestler grabbed his sword arm, trying to hold him in place for others to attack, but he quickly dipped the blade and severed the hand, pulling away as the fingers lost their grip on his armor.
He could feel the rhythm of the battle around him now, the steady beat of feet as the orcs and their mounts shifted for position, and as the rest of his squad entered the battle. He could feel the pauses between each arrow-strike and each wrestler's feint. He let the flow guide him, raising his shield to block each arrow in turn as his sword moved unhindered, striking at orcs as they moved around him, always turning to deny the wrestlers purchase. It was, for him, a moment of perfect clarity as he saw the movements of the orcs laid out before him, and was able to plan his movements with the same precision.
The shield high to catch a wrestler in the chin, then allow the momentum to carry it over and down to block an arrow while the sword rose with the same motion, catching a sniper in the chest and slicing through his rib cage. A step to the left and a sweep downward to sever the leg of a wrestler charging from behind while the shield stayed up to block three arrows. A step forward and a thrust, swinging the shield wide to open his view as his sword sought the throat of the sniper struggling to nock another arrow, lifting the shield slightly to deflect another arrow coming in from the left. The sword moved to the side, tearing its way out of the throat and splintering an arrow and a turn left to block the other arrow with the shield, and a quick rush forward to cut the legs off the now-fleeing orc. The rhythm subsided, the battle was over.
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Topic: Lanternwebs (The End!) (Read 80539 times)