Black Metal: The Orc Wars (12 page)

“Men of the South leave your bogs and raise your spears! Men of the East cross your plains and string your bows! Men of the West forget your coins and draw your swords! Men of the North ford the rivers and sharpen your axes! Brave men of Dunmyr, of Solar, of Erol, of Iithsul, rise to arms! Rise! Rise!” --- Caster Kronin, bard and condemned freebooter (post-humusly pardoned)

The armies met in a field of little prior consequence.

At the sound of their Lord’s inhuman bellow, the horde began the assault. The final battle against the templar nation that had first driven them underground had begun. Their howls were deafening.

But the opposition tonight was not the ordinary sort of adversary. These were the men of Iithsul, their phalanx of pikes gleaming in the torchlight like the faith burning brightly in their spirits. Flanked on both sides by a motley army of soldiers from across the realm, most of them battered survivors of the orc’s prior conquests. Not used to fighting at night, the warriors of Iithsul had set torches every ten paces across their battle line. Lights to illuminate no only the darkness of night, but to dispel the fear of facing the forces of the old world at long last.

The reports and rumors said that the orcs were lead by some sort of orc wizard who commanded a god thought long dead. They carried with them blades of darksteel, a metal forged deep in the ancient citadels of the Sheul, where all fear to tread. Darksteel was harder and lighter than most other metal, making it highly valuable. It also seemed to be unaffected by magic, prayer, or wards. However, legend held that to wield darksteel was to invite the powers of ruin into one’s life.

High King Eldin, the current mortal vicar and representative of the great god Harrikan, pondered these things as he watched the advance of the massive army. He was large for a human, his height and strength testament to his god’s favor. Some who had seen him at a distance even claimed that he had a shimmering halo about him, as if his body radiated the potent cleric’s powers with which he was vested.

Atop his great steed he sat, resplendent in his white armor and cloak. Soon, he thought, these beautiful garments will be soiled with blood. What a waste. It seemed that no matter how many battles were fought or how many years went by, there was always evil in the land. He was not foolish enough to think good could exist without evil, but being a Hero and a good man he often found it difficult to accept that fact in his heart. So it was with a burdened sigh that he drew his sword, a blade so holy that none but him seemed able to wield it, and ordered his troops forward to defend their homes and their world. Somewhere down in the ranks, a lone bard had taken up his harp, and was bellowing a song of war.

The phalanx of pikemen began to march steadily forward, supported from the rear by rank upon rank of dwarven shock troops and human men at arms. Normally there would be deadly volleys of arrows raining down upon the enemy from elvish bows, but none fell today. The elves were gone, their race wiped out by Lord Arius and his horde. The elf’s enchanted forest was now nothing but ashes, burned by the orcs and their wizard. So now only dwarves and men stood in the way of this ancient evil.

Yet the elves had not given up life easily. They had miraculously repelled the horde’s first assault, the powerful magics of Olisande Lostris keeping the Sheul at bay. But then the orcish wizard and Lord Arius combined their sorcerous might to set fire to the elven forests. Soon the unquenchable flames had consumed both forest and city, driving the elves into the open. When the graceful warriors and their families fled the fires and came into the fields surrounding the forest they found themselves in an impossible situation.

The horde had built a shield wall that protected them from the arrows of the elves and still be able to hurl spears and get in close quarters without being filled with elven arrows. And so on the fields before the burning forest the elf race met its end in battle against the orcs and their powerful god. Olisande Lostris, or so the visions sent by Harrikan to Eldin during meditation revealed, fell in single combat against Lord Arius. As the High King watched Olisande opened himself to a deathblow from the Sheul in order to close in for a fatal strike himself.

But as Arius’s blade rent the elf’s body Olisande’s blade only cleaved the rune key in the god’s breastplate. The High King watched as the elfking died in shock. As the Sheul looked up, obviously sensing the High King’s scrying, Eldin realized that Olisande had failed to kill the god. Yet by destroying the rune key the elf had reduced the Sheul’s power considerably, and more importantly bound it to the physical plane. Now it could be killed.

Eldin thought on this as the two armies finally met, their battle lines crashing into each other like waves against cliffs. The bloodthirsty orcs hurled themselves upon the pikes of Iithsul with suicidal courage and faith in their cursed armor. As those unlucky enough to be impaled crawled down the shafts to attack the pikemen themselves, the rest of the horde closed distance.

Too late, the pikemen realized the tactic. As the orcs died or whose armor deflected the points the pikemen began to lose both their weapons and advantage as the dying warriors clutched the poles to them, allowing those behind to gain ground. The pikemen’s line broke as the steady waves of orcs washed over them. Those who had the chance dropped their now useless pikes and drew their daggers, trying desperately to stay alive while falling back. As the pikemen’s retreat turned into a slaughter the dwarven shock troops and human men at arms waded into the fray. The orcs kept coming.

They came screaming bestial cries of fury as they rushed towards the warriors of the alliance. Man and dwarf alike felt the acid bite of fear as the muscular savages bore down on them. By now every one had heard the legends springing up on the crest of the horde’s rampage. They were immortal beings spawned by the dark gods when the world was young. They reproduced in vast numbers and quickly grew into maturity. The only check on their numbers was their innate love, almost obsession, with violence and plunder. They respected and revered the mighty, so their only religion was the worship of battle and those who excel in it.

Now they were armed with blades of darksteel and had the patronage of a god en-fleshed. In their brutal rampage they had managed to lay waste to most of the known world. Only the gilded towers of holy Iithsul remained unsullied. The one remaining light in this time of darkness and woe.

It was with that knowledge that the dwarves and men were able to stand firm and face the furious onslaught of the orcs. With the conviction and strength of desperation and hope they met the charge of the orcs with one of their own.

High King Eldin closed his eyes with sorrow as the two forces met. He could never shut out the sound of that initial clash. The bestial roars of the orcs mingled with the war shouts of man and dwarf as blades met and blood began to spill.

The fighting was thick and fierce. The orcs spurred onwards by their lust for battle, hacking and hewing even as they themselves were cut down. Men at arms fought desperately for their lives and the dwarves fell into a frenzy much like the orcs as they lost themselves in their ancient hatreds for the enemy.

Reserves were marched in from Iithsul to feed the battle with fresh lives. The casualties on both sides mounting as the night wore on. From time to time the pitch of battle would lessen as forces reformed, only to proceed into battle once again. Even a large force of unarmored commoners came from the city to fight alongside the others, armed only with farming tools and the desire to defend their homes.

Gradually the forces of darkness began to give ground. However, even as they fell back the Sheul revealed itself. Clad head to toe in black platemail, it brandished wicked weapons as it charged towards the battle.

It was that moment for which the High King had waited. With a shout he lead his mounted knights into battle. As the brilliant column of mounted knights drew near the thick of the fighting they moved to intercept the dark god who was cutting a bloody swathe through the ranks of the alliance. The closely packed combatants parted like a sea before the advance of the mounted troops.

Their collision was like the thunder of a thousand storms as the mounted warriors plowed into the armored giant. Blade and bludgeon crashed into shield and breastplate as the heavily armored combatants exchanged blows. For a time the struggle seemed evenly matched as the momentum of the mutual charge slowed and the struggle became mingled with the larger battle at hand.

Soon the High King found himself putting orcs to the sword as he tried to reach Lord Arius. Eldin’s holy sword cut through normal metal as if it were barely there, yet the darksteel blades did not shatter. Thus the High King found that killing a foe that could parry without losing his weapon was more difficult than he was used to. However, High King Eldin was no normal man, he was a Hero. His blade took life after life, spilling more blood than the King cared to remember. It was then that he cut down a charging orc and made himself a clear view of Lord Arius.

The black armored Sheul, despite the loss of his destructive magics, was sowing death all about him. The dark god stalked about he battlefield lashing out with both axe and sword, killing as he went. Often he would severe a limb or disembowel an opponent, then move on, knowing the wound would eventually kill them and not wasting his time dealing out clean deaths. Lord Arius was a cold and calculating creature, every movement ended a life.

Perhaps it was this coldness that gave pause to the High King, or the fact that most of the templars were dead at it’s feet, their loyalty and devotion carrying them straight to their deaths. For a moment all Eldin could do was watch in abject horror as the passionless butcher went about its business. He then suddenly snapped out of his daze, blocking out the terrible knowledge that each white body on the ground meant the sacrifice of a noble knight.

Unfortunately most of the other men and dwarves around Lord Arius seemed to be struck numb with fear. They were fighting at only a token of their true potential, as if the Sheul’s presence sapped them of the will and strength. If not halted it seemed as if this one fighter was going to turn the tide of battle in the favor of the enemy.

The High King brandished his sword and rushed the evil creature. Almost as if it had known how Eldin would attack it, Lord Arius spun around and dropped to one knee, swinging its weapons as it went. Only the quick wits of the King allowed him to keep his legs as he jumped upwards, allowing his charge’s momentum to carry him right into his enemy’s helmeted head.

The shining white armor was covered in blood, once the High King had landed in the dirt next to the stunned Sheul, it was further soiled with grit and dirt. Eldin sprang to his feet as Lord Arius rolled a few feet away and did the same. Now they faced each other, weapons poised. There was no need for speeches or taunts, each being knew that the other was an enemy to be annihilated. Lord Arius began to swing his two weapons in a figure eight pattern as he slowly advanced while the High King slung his shield from off his back and onto his arm.

The two fighters met in a clash of holy steel upon twisted metal. Arius rained a vicious flurry of blows upon the King, driving him backwards. Using his shield as a weapon Eldin batted aside the last blow, putting the Sheul off balance, and attempted a thrust at his enemy’s side. Arius twisted his body away from the near fatal blow as he came around full circle with his sword aimed at Eldin’s head.

The King just barely managed to duck the blow and from his crouched position delivered Arius a brutal uppercut with his blessed shield. The blow picked the Sheul up off its feet, lifting it into the air in a spray of blood. The heavily armored god landed several feet away in a jumbled heap.

A cry went up amongst the remaining knights as they rushed the fallen being, spurred on by what appeared to be a victory for their leader. The High King readied himself for the killing blow as he advanced with his sword gripped tightly. With all of his attention focused upon the prone form of Lord Arius as he approached, Eldin failed to notice the orc that was moving towards him.

Harrikan’s blessings were upon the High King on that fated eve. Without realizing quite what he was doing Eldin raised his shield in a parrying position. Just as he did the largest orc he had ever seen took a step towards him and leveled its heavy blade upon his shield with tremendous forced. The shield held the blessings of Harrikan, but this was a darksteel blade driven by a creature whose one joy in life was the chaos of battle. The shield disintegrated as it gave way to the powerful blow, the force of which carried the blade deep into the arm of the King.

Blinded by pain and reeling from the shock of the blow High King Eldin collapsed to the ground. The blood-soaked orc, his savage face divided by a horizontal white stripe tattoo, moved forward and raised his blade again. Before the orc could bring the blade down upon the King he was attacked by two of the armored knights. The first knight made a clumsy slash at the orc’s head, which the large orc ducked as he crouched under the blade. The knight’s charge carried him past the crouching orc, but before he could slow him momentum the orc came out of his crouch as he spun around, his blade cleaving the lower spine of the hapless knight. The second knight tried to skewer the orc with the point of his sword, but failed as the greenskinned warrior sidestepped the thrust and laid the knight open with a vicious upswing. The knight’s body spewed blood as it fell to the ground.

The orc returned his attention to the King, only to find the white armored man blazing with power, advancing proudly with holy blade held aloft. The orc fearlessly attacked, aiming a powerful blow at the King’s midsection. The High King easily parried the strike, letting the force of the blow carry the orc forward as he turned his blade over in a high arcing swipe that cleanly decapitated the brutal creature.