The End Of An Era

Durias dropped into a roll as they moved swiftly through the coverage. The dense forest shrouded their bodies, leaving only their hands and weapons visible amongst the thick foliage. Others were around him, like him, they were hunched low, spying in on the Ork encampment just beyond the tree line. He signalled for three of them to go closer, closer to the edge of the trees. Their bows drawn, they turned around and fired backwards. The arrow hit a tree, signalling for another to fire and hit another tree, and so on, giving note to all those around the encampment that everyone was in place.

Archers took aim, swordsmen readied themselves as dusk began to set in. Timing had to be perfect. The orks would have a meeting, the entire camp, all in one place. It was then that they had chosen to strike, the cramped confusion would allow the Orks to be slaughtered, killing more of their own than of their assailants. Rain began to fall; stopping on leaves from trees above them, falling like carefully placed sprinkles. And indeed they were, for those concealed in the trees had been planning this for months, and had brought their great mages with them. They knew the secrets to controlling weather.

They took their places, all ready and willing to die for their cause. They took aim, waiting for the perfect moment. They pulled back the arrows, watching for the signal to fire. The hand went down hard as a hundred arrows shot through the camp at the orks, spearing their way through tents and sheets like a hot knife through butter. Smashing into the Orks with deadly force, the arrows all hit home, each killing an Ork. The rest charged, swords, axes and sai’s all raised and waiting for blood. They clashed heavily, ripping parts from the confused Orks. Some managed to attack back, wielding heavy maces and clubs to little effect in the cramped conditions. Hacked to pieces, the first line of Orks fell to the ground, trampled into the wet earth by feet and other falling Orks.

Lightning struck down from upon ground, burning bodies and earth alike. The rain continued to fall as a small group of orks fought their way out, smashing through the line of warriors opposing them and made a break for the trees. They had barely made it from the encampment before arrows tore through their bodies, ripping into flesh and the little armour they possessed. The chieftain atop the stand roared his anger to the intruders, yelling at his Orks to fight back at them. Giving up his yelling, he dived in, crushing smaller orks under his gigantic form. Forcing his way towards the nearest enemy, he pulled out a massive two headed axe and swung, decapitating the attacker in one move. Other Orks looked up, gathered themselves and fought back with new vigour at their master’s actions. Soon, the tide began to shift in favour of the orks as a portion of the attack melted and crumbled.

Durias looked up. His eyes widened at the sight before him. Stepping big, two warriors took his place, hacking and chopping through Ork hide. He looked back at the trees, nodding at the mages to come out and confront the chieftain. Stepping softly, bare footed, cloaked figures walked forward, in front of the chieftain and his small group. The chieftain growled at the newcomers, nodding for a pair of larger orks to attack them. Archers quickly cut the two orks down, perfectly struck arrows piercing through their skulls, silencing them effortlessly. The chieftain roared again, the mass of orks clustered around him charging the mages. The four mages, alone now lifted their arms and the ground began to shake. Lightning shot down at the Orks, spearing through their weak bodies and exploding flesh. The ground hissed in the rain as the electric currents still whizzed around the metal armour now strewn across the ground. Roaring his anger to the skies, the chieftain charged once more, his would-be guardian’s mere ashes before him.

The mages stood still, their hands glowing red as they prepared to complete the raid’s objective. As the chieftain charged, great balls of fire materialized in the mages hands. Firing them off, each ball had enough power to destroy a house in one moment. 8 fireballs crashed into the chieftain, his body burning, the great Ork fell to his knees, wailing in agony as he was burnt alive. He suddenly swung out, catching one of the mages in the legs, shattering the bone. Falling to the floor, the mage had only a second to look as before his head was pounded into the floor, brain matter and skull sprayed everywhere as a massive hammer pulverized the mages head.

Durias growled quietly as he walked towards the chieftain. Standing to his side, he held his weapon to his neck. Pulling it up, he ready to behead the monstrous beast. He slammed it back down, taking the creatures head in one fell swoop. Behind him cries of victory sounded as he raised the head of the fallen chief up high. Fighting on with new vigour, his warrior brothers renewed their half broken attack, slaughtering the remnants of the orks.

* * * * *

“And there were none left?”

“None my lord. We killed them all; I took the head of the chief myself, as I have said lord.” Durias was bent onto one knee before his master. He dared not look up. Those who did so had a habit of ending in the Pits.

“Run it past me once more Durias.”

“Very well my lord. We took the Orks by surprise, they were having some sort of meeting and our Archers fired first. They felled many my lord. As we followed, the mages covered us and did their part. As he trapped and encircled the orks, we killed many and took few loses. That was until, my lord, their chieftain broke through. He broke the back of a portion of the attack and fought back, fighting at our rear and trapping the men between the two groups. I must admit my lord; the tide was turning in the battle. I myself pulled out, we were taking heavy casualties and I thought it best to unleash the mages upon the chieftain. They halted in front of him and slaughtered the Orks around him. As he charged they used fire magic’s to halt him and bring him to his knees. He managed to kill one of the mages though my lord. Crushing his holy flesh and skull into the ground.” His master winced as he imagined the death. Durias’s lord had been fond of mages, and was once one himself, before being elevated into his current position.

“Continue Durias.” He said, after some time. Durias swallowed and brought back the memories of the night before.

“As their chieftain was on the ground, I came and finished him my lord; I took his head in one drop of my blade. The rest of the Orks were quickly killed and minimal casualties were taken. We have recovered those wounded and retrieved the dead, they await the pyre as we speak Lord.” A long, awkward silence followed. Durias didn’t move, he didn’t look up, only hoped that what he had said was sufficient of his masters ‘mercy side’. The silence was suddenly broken by a loud clear of a throat. Durias stiffened up; knowing something terrible was soon to happen.

“You did well Durias. You achieved the objective, with few losses. Well done.” Durias relaxed again, happy knowing that he appeared to be clear from any wrath
“But. There is the matter of the mage. You will be punished accordingly, you understand this?”

“Yes lord.”

“Good. I would think that twelve days in the pits should suffice.” Durias’ face lost it’s colour at the mention of the pits. Dreaded, feared and rightly so, the pits were massive gladiatorial arenas in which thousands of highly skilled warriors met their demise at the hand of creatures, monsters, daemons and other fighters. Durias had been in once before, and barely made it out alive. He was scarred for life, the large gouge in the left side of his face a token given to him by an unknown champion, just before he had been garrotted by a small length of wire. Suddenly jumping back from the memory of the fight, Durias bowed.

“Y-Yes, My, my l-lord.” He stammered, taken aghast at the punishment.

“Good man. Hopefully you will come back out alive. Again. Be ready tomorrow morning. Until then, you are free from your duties. Good day.” His master waved him away, turning his attention back to more pressing matters of border control.

Durias bowed quickly and walked backwards from the chamber. Once safe from his masters vision, he turned and walked normally, slightly shaky at his punishment. He was relieved slightly though. His master had given him the night off, and so Durias was now free to do what he wanted and be where he wanted. But this was the least of his worries. He would need to prepare. And soon.

He pushed through the massive iron frame doors, leaving the great Palace and walking through its sad, melancholy grounds. He looked around as solemn birds flew from his path, as fish darted through small, rectangular ponds along the sides of the pond and how the golden gleam of the Palace shined in the dark water. Walking through the gates, he heard the Palace guards close them behind him, the creaky metal breaking an otherwise peaceful decent down a thousand steps. Looking out, he could see the sprawling Elf city of Al’himroth, its white building tops showing vibrantly through the evening sky. He took his time, collecting everything, the bird’s tranquil singing, the baying of wolves at the moon and the sound of calls from the city. The bottom of the steps was guarded by a large stone gate, denying those that seek to destroy the Palace a chance of doing so. Or so that was their job.

Durias nodded at the inside guard, pushing through the gates and breathing a last, long gulp of air. Stepping through a thin, smoke like barrier, he now passed into the noisy land of the Great City.