Everywhere Lord Marcus Barden's looked, the aftermath of destruction greeted him: charred homes, ruined crops, and bodies scattered across the fields. He'd prayed he would never get used to such horrors, but the recent weeks had made them all too familiar. His troops faced battle after battle, and without the mighty Wolvegren at their side, the weight of their responsibility was almost unbearable. The Swine had advanced deep into human territories, wreaking havoc at every turn.
Numerous beyond count, they had scattered in every direction. The responsibility of chasing them now rested squarely on his unready shoulders.
"What are we to do?" one of his men asked.
"We pursue," he responded firmly, setting his jaw with determination. "Every last one of them."
He felt a presence beside him and turned to find Thomas. The determination and despair in Thomas's eyes mirrored Marcus's own emotions. "We failed them," Thomas murmured, his voice thick with regret.
Marcus nodded solemnly. "The Swine leave a trail that's hard to miss.” He hated the fact he was getting use to the sight of violence and bloodshed. But it's the sight of children's toys amidst the ruins that haunted him the most.
Thomas let out a deep breath, surveying the grim scene. "We'll make them pay for this."
"These damn creatures," Marcus muttered, his voice quivering with rage.
"How many do you think passed through?" Thomas asked. “Through the caves I mean.”
Marcus paused, thinking back, calculating the number of days the water levels dropped, allowing the Swine passage. "If we're lucky, a few hundred."
"And if luck isn't on our side?"
Marcus inhaled deeply, straightening his posture. “Our mission stays the same.”
Thomas squinted at the charred remnants of the town. "So where are we now?"
Scanning the damaged signs, Marcus replied, "It looks like...Forgon. But that can't be right." He caught the confusion in Thomas's eyes. The devastation had rendered the once-familiar landscape almost unrecognizable.
Marcus nudged a fallen sign with his boot, bending down to read the inscription. It clearly revealing that it once belonged to the formerly prosperous town of Forgon.
He sighed, "I was hoping we'd find reinforcements here. Seems we've arrived too late."
“Shall we look for survivors?”
"Briefly, but we can't afford to dally. The longer we stay…”
Thomas nodded then glanced towards the horizon and voiced the question that had been on both their minds. "Couldn't you have convinced them to help?"
Marcus's eyes followed his gaze towards the trees in the distance to the south, a hint of regret in his voice. "This is our fight. They have their own borders to defend."
Thomas scanned their own dwindling ranks, assessing each soldier. "Once our numbers grow, we can strategize better. Should I prepare the men?"
Marcus bit back a retort known full well they didn’t have the time to regroup. "Do it, scan for survivors but be quick," Marcus said. "Time's not on our side."
With a determined glint in his eyes, Thomas began rallying the men. They spread out, scouring the ravaged town for any signs of survivors. But as the minutes ticked by, a chilling reality settled in: there wasn’t a single living soul left in Forgon.
"Sir," Thomas interjected.
Marcus raised his eyes from the devastation, meeting Thomas's gaze. "Go on."
"One of the scout’s found a horse," Thomas reported.
A glimmer of hope appeared in Marcus's eyes. Although it wasn't much, the horse could prove valuable. "Excellent. Instruct the scout to ride ahead. We need to know how far ahead these monsters are."
Thomas gave a brief nod, turning quickly to relay the order.
Soon after, the group mobilized, with Lord Marcus at the helm, guiding them westward along the trail of devastation the Swine had carved. Every step took them deeper into a landscape painted with sorrow and loss. But amidst the despair, a glimmer of hope walked among them. Jacob, once just another young face among the ranks, now stood out. He moved with a newfound grace and authority that only weeks of intense training under the Wolvegren Greypaw.
As they marched, Jacob's voice would occasionally rise above the army's rhythmic footsteps, recounting tales of his training and the wisdom he'd gleaned in that short time. His lessons of the deep connection between all living things, the web of energy binding every creature to the next, had become a welcome distraction for the soldiers. Lord Marcus, in particular, had absorbed every word, allowing the profound teachings to reshape his perspective. While the pain of the devastation was evident, understanding the intricate balance and connection of life offered a solace amidst the chaos.
This newfound insight even served a practical purpose. With Jacob's guidance and the teachings of the Wolvegren, they had managed to track several of the Swine, understanding their patterns and movements in a way that was previously inconceivable.
As darkness descended once more, a scout raced back to the remnants of the battalion, his horse's hooves thundering against the ground. Slowing down, he relayed, "They're gathering, my Lord, by the Bran Wall outside Sorina."
Lord Marcus halted his men, processing the information. "The Bran Wall," he muttered, recalling the significance of the ancient barrier. It was said to be impenetrable, a safeguard for the township of Sorina yet he knew the Swine would push past the wall with little effort.
Lord Marcus nodded, a grim expression on his face. "Prepare the men. The Swine have chosen their battleground. And we'll meet them there."
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The scout's breathing was laboured as he continued, "There's more, my Lord. The numbers... there's a swarm of them. At least a thousand, and some... they are far larger than anything we've seen."
Murmurs rippled through the ranks. Faces that had previously been set with determination now clouded with concern. Their numbers, already diminished from previous battles, paled in comparison to the force they were about to face.
Lord Marcus, trying to gauge the extent of the threat, probed further. "And Sorina? What of their defences?"
The scout hesitated, then replied, "Barely a handful, my Lord. The walls, which should be brimming with guards, have only a few. It seems many have already fled or... or met their end."
A heavy silence settled upon the troops. The reality of the situation weighed heavily on their minds. The odds were overwhelmingly against them. However, amid the despair, a spark of defiance ignited.
A voice from the back rang out, "If not us, then who? We stand between them and our homes, our families."
Another shouted, "For our children!"
Soon, the air was filled with affirmations, each more fervent than the last. These men, though outnumbered, would not back down from the threat looming before them.
Lord Marcus, moved by the raw emotion of his troops, drew his sword and held it high. "We march for Sorina! For our kin! For the future of these lands!"
A resounding battle cry erupted as the battalion rallied, their spirits lifted despite the odds. They marched forward, bracing themselves for what was certain to be a brutal clash.
The rhythmic cadence of the troops' march filled the air, each step echoing their resolve. After an hour the sight of the wall came into view and as they neared the Swine's rear, they observed the massive creatures, busily trying to tear down the Bran Wall with thick ropes and sheer brute strength. Luckily the wall still stood tall, a beacon of hope against the encroaching horde of vermin below.
He wasted no time. "Charge!" Marcus commanded, his voice slicing through the night air.
The human battalion surged forward like a wave, crashing into the unsuspecting Swine from behind. The element of surprise was on their side, and for the first few moments, the Swine were thrown into disarray. Swords met flesh, and arrows pierced through the gaps in their armour and within a span of a few breaths dozens of the enemy fell before them.
Lord Marcus, in the thick of the fray, fought with every ounce of his being. He was relentless, cutting down foes left and right. Yet there were so many of them to count. In a split-second lapse, a Swine blade sliced across his shield arm, causing him to cry out in pain. A few paces away, Thomas grappled with one of the larger Swine. The creature, easily dwarfing the human, swung its club. Before Thomas could evade, the club collided with his helmet, sending him sprawling to the ground, unconscious.
“Thomas!” Marcus shouted but his voice was drowned out by the clash of battle.
A line of towering Swine brutes stepped forward; black gems embedded in the amulets around their necks. As they chanted in unison, the gems dripped with black liquid spreading over their skin turning their flesh grey. Suddenly, the ogres' eyes glowed red, and the scent of rotting flesh filled the air. These monstrous creatures made his blood run cold, and within the span of only a few moments had quickly turned the tide of battle in their favour.
“Shit,” Marcus spat.
A blade hurtled towards his face. Just as it was about to strike, it veered off course. The Swine wielding it stumbled, eyes bulging in surprise. Jacob emerged from beneath the fallen creature, sword in hand.
"What's our next move, sir?" he inquired.
“We’ve no choice, push forward and cut the big bastards down!”
Lord Marcus, struggling to hold his ground and nursing his wounded arm, felt the tide of the battle turning against them. Despair began to creep in as the Swine advanced relentlessly. Yet the men didn’t faulter they pushed ahead until their final breath taking down far more before succumbing to their wounds.
A horn's call pierced the air. The formidable doors of Sorina cracked open with a resonating clang. Lord Marcus's heart momentarily faltered, anticipating another wave of foes. But instead, a brigade of horsemen, their armour glinting in the sunlight, burst through. At the forefront, Lord Amber's emblem danced in the breeze.
Marcus’s heart lifted as the cavalry smashed into the frontlines of the Swine with overwhelming force. The sound of which he could feel in his chest as their spears found their mark, sinking deep into flesh and bodies crumpled under the trampling hooves. The sounds of the battlefield transformed from the shrieks of caught-off-guard Swine to the triumphant shouts of Lord Amber's forces.
"William!" Marcus cried amidst the tumult, but amid the chaos, his old friend struggled to spot him.
Seeing the tide turn, Lord Marcus called to his troops, reigniting their spirits. Together with Lord Amber's cavalry, they pressed against the enemy.
The Swine were dwindling, but the hulking ones proved stubborn. Many fell under a hail of arrows from horseback or were impaled by the thrusting spears of the reinforcements. Yet, as the last of these monstrous Swine fell, another emerged, dwarfing the rest.
The creature grinned maliciously; his pig-like eyes gleaming with perverted bloodlust. With a savage motion, he tore black gems from the corpses of his fallen comrades and swallowed them whole, not just one, but several. A hushed silence fell upon the human forces as they encircled this new threat, each man's grip tightening on his weapon.
The creature convulsed, its skin rippling. With the eerie sound of cracking bones and expanding muscles, it began a grotesque transformation. Although arrows and spears pierced its flesh, the creature appeared unfazed. The men could only watch, transfixed, as the Swine's skin paled to an ashen grey. It swelled, looming large over the battlefield, becoming the embodiment of their darkest nightmares.
Then, with a monstrous hunger in its eyes, the creature began to feast on the corpses of its own kin. Each bite seemed to empower it further, and with every morsel of Swine flesh, the creature transformed, contorting into a more grotesque and horrifying form. The battleground echoed with the crunching of bones and the sloshing of devoured flesh, while the humans looked on, aghast at the nightmarish sight before them.
Whispers of fear ran through the human ranks as they circled the beast, their weapons at the ready but uncertainty evident in their eyes. Lord Marcus, having witnessed the power of the black gems first-hand, ordered, "Hold your ground! Await my command!"
The Swine creature, now a grotesque blend of bone and flesh, roared with defiance, its voice echoing with the dark taint of the gems. It stomped forward, its very footsteps causing the earth to tremble, and swung at the nearest group of soldiers, sending them flying.
Jacob, drawing from his newfound teachings, attempted to connect with the creature, trying to find a chink in its corrupted armour. He shouted, "Its power comes from those gems! We need to break them!"
A hail of arrows rained down on the beast, distracting it. Using the distraction to their advantage, a group of soldiers charged, aiming for the creature's legs, trying to topple it. But the beast was fast, swatting them away with its massive arms.
Lord Amber, with a handful of his best riders, charged from the flank. Their lances found purchase, but the creature's thick hide resisted penetration. It retaliated, grabbing a horse and its rider, tossing them aside like rag dolls.
The grim reality of the situation became clear: brute force alone wouldn't be enough.
Lord Marcus, rallying his men with a fierce determination, shouted, "We need time!" Glancing around, he spotted an event caster from the city, her green book at the ready. "You! Can you target those gems?"
With her robe billowing, she stepped forward. "I can try, my Lord, but I’ll need a distraction!"
Nodding, Lord Marcus turned to Jacob. "Can you draw its attention?"
Jacob, with a determined nod, rallied a group the men and charged, their fierce cries and coordinated attack momentarily drawing the beast's focus.
The event caster, chanting with her hand placed snugly within her book, unleashed a flood of energy towards the massive beast, duplicating the effect of freezing water with the contents of its stomach. As the fluid froze and expanded the gems were put under immense pressure. The creature roared in agony as one by one, the gems shattered, each explosion weakening it further.
With its power source diminished, the Swine creature's transformation began to reverse. Its strength waned, its movements slowed, and the ashen skin started to crack and crumble.
Seeing the opportunity, Lord Marcus led a final charge, his blade finding the creature's heart. With a final, mournful cry, the monstrosity collapsed.