"...dir, get out of bed, or you will be late." his mother's booming voice was heard, he'd fallen asleep with the book in his hands. I will finish it later, now it's time for another lesson. It was quite an interesting read, describing how Thorin Enthdornar unified the local dwarven hamlets and declared himself king. Wolfing down another sizable breakfast, which consisted of a small piece of meat, a huge serving of what seemed like vegetables and a thin slice of bread, and away he went to his teacher's shop.
Nothing notable happened on his way there, with him greeting Dorna and then the assistant, before finding himself seated in front of his teacher again.
"Good morning, Teacher!" his teacher was seated in the exact same position as yesterday, with the same pile of books in front of him, as if he hadn't moved at all.
Moving his eyes away from the book he was reading, his teacher stoically replied, “We shall begin today’s lesson with geography.”
Excited to learn more about the world, Drardir vigorously nodded.
Slightly correcting his posture and clearing his throat, the ancient dwarf began his lecture, “We find ourselves located in the very north, locked by snow and ice during the longest part of the year in this prison of a mountain range we call the Bennoth Mountains. The Northern Mountains. Isolated from the world as we are, we rarely interact with other races, other than the cursed goblins, obviously. Great battles between our races have been mentioned in many Elven books all throughout history. Our deep rooted conflict has brought a great deal of terror and destruction to both races alike. If nothing else, the enmity has also served as an excellent nourishment for our military power. Locked in a constant struggle for survival, the dwarven warriors endlessly searched for ways to become stronger. One of those searches resulted in the discovery of rikzalv, the internal strength, a mysterious power capable of drastically improving the practitioner's physical capabilities.”
“Whatever its origin may be, in the everlasting bid for supremacy, all races came to depend upon it, the proficiency of its use defining military ranks. For instance, a dwarf would begin his igurund training as a Beginner, and then, by completing various deeds and tests, progress through Apprentice, Capable, Advanced, Expert, Elite, Master, Advanced Master and the highest recorded rank, with only 3 practitioners in existence, Grandmaster. While other races, such as goblins and orcs might have less structured systems, goblins still distinguish between Warriors, Hobgoblins, Warbosses and Archgoblins. Archgoblins comparable to Masters in particular.”
While Drardir was busy studying under Durin Arnuru, a huge battle was brewing far in the south.
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Misty Peak Mountains
In front of a fortress gate carved into the side of a mountain, a dwarven army was gathering for battle. The preparations were nearing its final stages, with deep trenches dug all around the gate, sharpened spikes within and around them. Hundreds of quarrellers were lining up atop of the gate, providing them height advantage and protection. 20 Grudge and 10 Bolt throwers were deployed, artillery similar to catapults and ballista. Some of the artillery was placed on notches that were dug into the mountain, others on towers next to the gate, while the infantry was assembling in lines in front of the gate. More than 4,000 battle ready dwarves in total, of which around 200 manned the artillery, 1,000 were quarrellers, 500 pikemen, and the rest dwarven warriors, among them 5 Advanced Master.
One of the Advanced Masters, covered in full body armor of enhanced mithril, stood in the middle of the dwarven formation. With his posture and demeanor exuding confidence, and his neatly braided black hair and beard seen under his helmet, he was giving orders to his right hand man.
"Borir, make sure the quarrellers have enough bolts!".
"Yes, General Balor!" said Borir with a snicker and then ran off. They had been friends since childhood, and fought countless battles shoulder to shoulder, Borir was his saman, meaning shield brother. With the dornar of Neldhor, Magrin, grievously wounded in their battle with the Primordial Demon, and after Balor and his men had repelled a dozen orc raids, it was agreed that he was to lead the allied dwarven force in this battle.
Far on the horizon, he could see a huge cloud of dust, the orc army. The scouts estimated a force 50,000 strong in their most conversative reports. While they had the terrain advantage, they were still vastly outnumbered. His initial plan was to meet them aboveground, with a retreat to the underground as his last option. Orcs would surely cause explosions in the caves with their fires, or even intentionally collapse tunnels. Even now as they marched, they burned everything around them, probably vigilant of an ambush.
His only hope was for the bloodthirsty orcs to charge into the fray headfirst, for any prolonged battle would force him to retreat behind the gate. They could probably fight just inside the gate, but that would negate their artillery and quarrellers. They say that plans rarely survive the first encounter, so let's wait and see.
As the orcs came closer, Balor received his first detailed report. 20,000 slaves of different races, among them even dwarves, stationed in their vanguard, and thousands of beast riders at their flanks. Balor clenched his teeth, they would have to slaughter their fellow dwarves. 20 battalions of armoured orc infantry, marching in an orderly formation, and a few thousand orc archers acted as the main army. He was genuinely shocked when he received the second part of the report. Hundreds of 3 meter tall monstrosities, trolls, creatures of immense strength and endurance but low intelligence, and even a 7 meter tall abomination, a giant. A huge difference to the chaotic infantry and a few dozen riders they had faced during the orc raids. The commander must be a competent one. He also received information that the giant pulled a stone filled wagon.
"Order the Grudge thrower crew only to target the enemies once they enter 500 meter range, once the giant and the trolls enter the same range, they are to make them their top priority." such were his first orders. While their Grudge throwers had a range of 750 meters, they were most accurate from 300 to 500 meters.
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By the time the orcs came within a kilometre, the dwarves were already in full formation, the remaining 4 Advanced Masters standing just behind the infantry, ready to reinforce any weak area. Balor stood closer to the gate on a raised platform, to better provide orders. Time to raise the morale, while they can still hear me.
He signalled Borir, who’d returned from his inspection, to sound the horn, the overzealous dwarf thumping so loudly Balor’s ears almost started bleeding. As all eyes turned towards him, he could see fear in some, excitement in others. A myriad of different emotions.
"I am Balor Sarghathuld! Our mighty dwarven army stands before a great evil! One day we will lay down our axes, but that day is NOT TODAY !" and then he lifted his axe into the air "ARR!".
"ARRRRR!!" a boisterous response followed, with the very air vibrating under the strain of the dwarven army. The warriors beating on their shields with their axes and hammers.
"ARR!" he poured his soul out to his warriors, resonating with their emotions.
"ARRRRRRRR!" the sheer desire for victory could be felt in the air, their axes thirsty for orcish blood.
In preparation for the battle, Balor had ordered his soldiers to mark the ground every 50 meters starting from the gate. And when the slaves passed the last line, representing 500 meters; Peeng. The first rounded projectiles released by the Grudge throwers soared into the sky. Some of the slaves charged forward, while others started running away. A true demonstration of a disorderly army.
Explode. Explode. The first impacts were heard, with the projectiles crushing dozens. The true damage was done by the explosions, filled with dwarven powder used for mining, the projectiles exploded upon impact, blasting the shards in all directions, killing and crippling hundreds. The smell of blood and the screams of the injured and terrified started drifting in the air.
After suffering 2 salvos from the Grudge throwers, the demoralised and disorganised slave army passed the line representing 100 meters. At the same time, they came within the quarrellers range, whose effective range was 100 meters with their enhanced crossbows. "Signal the quarrellers to fire a single volley!" he said to the flag bearer standing next to him. Because of all the noise, one of the only ways to communicate on a battlefield was through flags. The flag bearer lifted a flag, and shortly after a volley was released. Hundreds of bolts soaring through the air and hundreds again fell before they even reached the dwarven army.
By this point, half of the slave army had already been decimated, more of them deserting than falling to the dwarven fire. The deserters found themselves hacked to death, the orc main army using them as target practice. Balor observed the carnage in disgust, steeling his guts for the next part.
The first line of slaves slowed down when they neared the sharpened spikes, but their companions in the back were still in full charge, pushing them forward, impaling them on the spikes. Screams of despair were heard, the dwarven army watching in horror as the slaves trampled on dead bodies to charge at them, rusty and simple weapons not suited for war in their hands. As the trench filled up with bodies, and as the slaves came within meters of the dwarven line, under the orders of Balor, the 4 Advanced Masters shouted "Shield wall!".
The orderly formation linking their shields with one another, creating an impressive wall.
As the slaves were about to collide with the wall, Balor saw most of the orc infantry stop just outside of the Grudge thrower range, with orc archers, accompanied by the same number of infantry carrying huge shields, as well as the trolls and the giant moving forward. Balor even noticed trolls above 3 meters in height, troll lords. Peeng. Thaang. The Grudge throwers releasing the volley and the slaves hitting the shield wall happened almost at the same time. While they hacked at the wall with their motley weapons, the dwarven captains gave their orders, "PUSH!" the warriors lifted their shields and pushed their enemies, the many lines working in unison, pushing the slaves back, step by step. "ARRR!!" hearing the order, they suddenly moved a step back. Some of the slaves fell forward, not expecting the sudden move, and while they were surprised the dwarven shields opened up, enchanted axes and hammers appearing instead, falling on the slaves as one. Hundreds perished in seconds, the dwarven war machine moving over their dead enemies to again establish their formation, shields in front.
On the other side of the battlefield, the trolls were in disarray, the first volley of projectiles had only killed a few, but some of the remaining ones, hit by the shards, went into a frenzy.
"Arghhh!" a grievously wounded troll who'd started killing the archers around him suddenly fell to the ground, an enormous axe stuck in his back. A 5 meter tall armoured troll appeared from behind him, pulling the axe out and unleashing a bestial roar. “ROAR!!”
"Signal the Bolt throwers to focus on the trolls once they enter the 300 meter range!" as the flag bearer relayed his orders, Balor eyed the armoured troll. A troll warlord, a beast comparable to an Advanced Master, maybe even stronger. Wielding enhanced armor of good quality, he'd be a tricky opponent. Other than that, the battle was proceeding as planned. The slaves had already lost a considerable number of their troops, and would soon completely collapse, while the trolls and orc archers were being thinned out by Grudge throwers and were just about to enter Bolt thrower range. As trolls crossed the 300 meter line, 10 javelins with hardened tips flew towards them at an incredible speed, crippling some, and outright killing others. A single javelin impaled the giant right through the arm, the monstrosity moving forward as if it wasn’t worth his attention.
"Infantry, throv formation!" as the flag bearer passed on his orders, he had no doubt the enemy would rain death on their own slaves and dwarves alike. Throv formation: first line shields in front, others shields to the top. His thoughts turned out to be correct, as the trolls started to throw their stones some time after they’d passed the 200 meter line. Some of the stones ricocheted off the dwarven shields, others fell on the ground and shattered, raining shrapnel on the heavily armoured warriors, causing some minor injuries. Only the troll lords and warlord managed to do some serious damage, the huge stones thrown by them crushing dozens.
And then Balor saw the giant launch a stone the size of a horse through the air, and one of the Advanced Masters throwing his axe, cutting the stone in half before it could fall, his magical axe flying back to his hand. The shattered pieces still killed or injured a good number of warriors. When the orc archers came within quarreller’s range, their accompanying infantry came forward to shield them from the bolts. And so the skirmish began, with quarrellers raining arrows on the orc infantry and archers, while the archers started their fire on dwarven infantry. Most of the thousands of arrows deflected off dwarven shields, but some still found their way through small gaps injuring and killing the dwarves beneath, which in turn slowed their attacks on the slaves.
As the battle progressed, so did the casualties mount, with the orc infantry and archers incurring the most amount of losses, not including the slaves. While the shields deflected a considerable amount of bolts, the enhanced crossbows blasted holes right through them if not angled properly. The giant was also starting to slow down the rate of his bombardment, with a couple of javelins and countless shards from Grudge thrower projectiles stuck in his body. But the damage had already been done, the dwarven formation was considerably thinned out with hundreds perishing under the bombardment.
And then the beast riders came. Thousands of crazed orcs riding their monstrous spawn entered a mad charge, headed right for the dwaren formation.