WorkerDrone watched his breath condense in front of him and join the fog as he panted from exertion. He was used to moving in armor, but he had been unable to match the speed of the champions as they charged into the orcs. He let his sword swing towards the ground, relaxing his stance as he watched The Tooninator and his squad chase down mounted orcs on foot, and tried to catch his breath.
There was no question about it, the battle had been a complete victory. His only regret was that he had not gotten there in time to participate: The champions had already driven the orcs away by the time he and the rest of squad had crossed the bridge.
Flint had told his squad to stay towards the edges and help the champions if he could, conjuring visions in his head of heroically saving one of their lives. He imagined coming across a champion, maybe Flint himself, pinned to the ground by an orc about to land a mortal blow. In his mind, he would yell and swing his sword, watching the finely-honed steel part the orc's tough flesh effortlessly and seeing the head fly away in a bloody arc. Then, he would reach down with an armored hand to help the champion to their feet, and the two of them would fight, back to back and surrounded by orcs, until they could make it safely back to the fortress.
But reality had been starkly different. When The Tooninator had given the order to charge, he had sprinted forward as quickly as his legs could carry him, only to see the champions race far ahead of him. Where he carried his armor well but heavily, they moved as if they didn't notice the weight of steel at all, using the weight to carry them forward and put extra power into their swings. He had arrived as the orcs made their retreat, and only The Tooninator's squad had been sent to chase stragglers. Though he would never admit it, he was glad for the break. As much practice as he had had sparring in the barracks, running in full plate was still tiring, and there were still many orcs left to kill. Plenty of opportunities for heroism on the battlefield. This time, he threw himself over the champion, deflecting the blow with his shield as he turned to stab upwards through the orc's gut, piercing its heart. In the same motion, he rolled off the champion and turned, reaching out to grab the champion's outstretched hand...
A second cry of "ORCS!" and the twang of a crossbow quickly brought him back to reality. He brought his sword up and looked around wildly, seeing a storm of crossbow bolts flying out of the fortifications towards the riverbed to the east. Without waiting for the order this time, he charged ahead towards the slope down to the river, his shield close to his body and his sword up and ready to strike, a war cry at his lips.
Before he had made it half way across the field, he saw the orcs riding up to meet him. Each carried a mace, the heads studded with irregular black iron spikes as long as his fingers. Several had crossbow bolts sticking out of their shields, arms, and even heads, but they seemed not to notice. Behind him, WorkerDrone heard the rest of the dwarves begin to charge, and his courage was bolstered, shouting defiance at the charging barbarians as he rushed to meet them.
"It will be just like sparring with Vabok or Sodel." he told himself as he closed. "He'll swing at me, I'll bring the shield up and let the blow slide off, then I'll half-turn and strike at his exposed elbow. Just like sparring." He chose a target, already unmounted, and shifted slightly to give himself better footing when they met. As he expected, the orc raised his mace to swing, and WorkerDrone brought the shield up, just as he had been trained to do.
The sheer force of the blow sent tremors up his arm as he caught the mace squarely in the center of his shield. Slightly off-balance, he twisted and brought the sword down, but struck the thick iron of the mace handle rather than the arm, and the sword bounced off with a loud clang. Remembering his training, he slid the blade down, cutting deep into the orc's thumb. As he drew back for another strike, the orc's other arm caught him in the back, sending him sprawling to the ground. He quickly rolled over, bringing his shield up to block a strike from the orc's mace that would have surely crushed his breastplate, but the force of the blow brought his shield arm wide. He desperately brought his sword up to try to parry the next, inevitable blow.
As the orc brought his mace back for the killing blow, WorkerDrone saw a dwarf step behind him and swing high with his axe, taking the orc's left leg off at the hip. Suddenly unbalanced, the orc crashed to the ground, where a second axe-stroke quickly ended his life. The dwarf quickly stepped over the body and offered a hand to WorkerDrone, who gladly accepted it and pulled himself onto his feet. Looking around, he saw that the orcs were once again fleeing the battlefield, though this time The Tooninator was behind them, cutting off their escape route. The dwarves had again carried the day.
"You did well." Said the dwarf who had saved him, flipping his faceguard back to reveal the familiar features of Flint. "Courage and skill both, and you drew your first orc blood. Not many could be asked to do better in their first real battle."
WorkerDrone nodded, silently. Things had not quite gone as he had expected, true, but his first taste of combat had left him wanting more. The next time he wouldn't make those mistakes, he wouldn't need rescuing. The next time, he would kill the orc. The next time, he would save Flint. The next time...
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Battle aftermath pictures, since they didn't fit well into the story.
Movie of the second battle should be up tonight.Movie available
hereThe one dwarven casualty was Likot Passagewhips, son of Kubuk Sàkrithdeduk and Sakzul Degëlkôn, who had been carried into battle by his mother. I haven't had time to deal with the three remaining squads, but again I should be able to tonight.