Our looting of the fortress was complete by midday. Anything that wasn’t nailed down was pulled from its place of rest to be used. We received a plethora of replacement weapons, and access to the armor of the fallen soldiers was first come first serve for anyone who found something that fit. The results were rather mismatched at times, but so long as it kept people alive it didn’t matter much what they looked like.
With the fortress cleared, now came the part that I'm certain many took no small amount of pleasure in. The destruction of the buildings was something everyone wished to participate in as hammers, axes, and fire were used liberally. While the stone walls may have been able to resist most of our attempts at damaging them, the support structures inside would be destroyed which would eventually lead to a collapse.
I supervised the destruction along with the other officers. The goal was to ensure that this fortress be unusable for the foreseeable future, and sometimes that required us to direct the soldiers into doing something a little more productive than just random smashing. Doors and gates were pulled down, defensive emplacements were destroyed, and anything that could have been remotely useful to future defenders was removed.
At the end of it all, my army stood outside the walls as black plumes of smoke rose high into the sky. The air was acrid with its scent and embers drifted a short distance outside of the walls before fizzling out into nothing. Maybe I would have praised the sight before me as being beautiful or satisfying at one point, but in that moment all I could think of it was that it was necessary.
With a resolute motion, I tugged on the reign of the horse I was riding to direct it back towards the army that was already marching off to our next target. The dark cloud that hung over the fortress slowly receded onto the horizon the further away we got. We would have to go through this twice more, and I hoped that we had the staying power to pull through at the end.
And so, the dull marching began once more as we began the journey to the next fortress in our path. However, it didn’t remain dull for very long. Along the path several of the soldiers in the front of the formation suddenly vanished from sight as the ground dropped out from beneath them. The shock of this lasted for a moment before there was a mad scramble to get them out.
It was a simple trap, a hidden hole with spikes at the bottom. Luckily for us the soldiers that had dropped into the pit were already deceased, and the spikes had little effect on them other than getting them tangled up and damaging their equipment. While this one trap may not have been all that effective, the idea of them was much more potent.
If there was one, there could be more, and that was enough for us to be slowed significantly in order to insure we wouldn’t have something more vulnerable drop into another trap. As it turned out, there were more traps, and enemy troops to go along with them. The first few traps that were disarmed were there to make us focus on the ground, and once we were too busy poking at the ground to make sure it wouldn’t drop out from beneath us, arrows and spells started to fly from the bushes.
The attack hit us from the front and one side, and we reacted as quickly as we could in response. Shield walls were formed, and lines of battle established. However, by the time we got in position, everything went quiet again. There was some confusion as to their intent, but after a few scouts, both physical and incorporeal, examined the surrounding landscape, it was found that all the enemies had retreated.
After it was given some time to be considered, it was theorized that we were now facing the goblins, or at least a unit that was using their tactics. The hit and run coupled with traps being laid in our path were textbook for their preferred methods of combat. Low risk, potentially high damage if not just plain debilitating for the enemy to be constantly on guard.
We needed a response to this, and mine was to ambush the ambushers. I had under my control many subtle, yet still dangerous creatures. The brush was not as much of an ally as they thought once I had placed fangs between the leaves.
Our first sign of the plan working came about later that day as a second attempt at an ambush was thwarted when a commotion was heard from the wilds around us. There were sharp yelps of pain and thrashing going on amongst the trees. We charged in after the sounds, and with their cover blown, had to retreat while under attack. Those that were bitten by venomous animals stumbled along as the toxin was pumped through their body until they either collapsed on their own or were killed by my soldiers.
After that they attempted to ambush us only once more, meeting a similar fate as the first time though more managed to escape. I guess they wizened up to the fact that this strategy was no longer working because we saw no more attempts at a direct attack and instead an increase in the number and variety of traps. It was annoying, and slowed us down, but we could handle it.
Perhaps it was inevitable that what happened next would come to pass, but no matter how much time I had to prepare for it, I still thought I was woefully unprepared. The scouts came back to us with reports of another army that had amassed itself in our path. While that alone might not have been too concerning, it was a small detail that had shot my unease sky high. The banners that were flown denoted the presence of the orc’s champion, the champion of fire.
He had finally found us. We knew this was coming, that he would seek me out for what he believed to be a worthy challenge. Champion versus champion, God versus God. There was little doubt that he would call me out in a duel which would only end in one of our deaths. The army was just to get my attention and force me to face him. He wanted me all to himself.
I had some plans for this, a few ideas I could use during the fight, but having never faced or even seen the way the orc’s champion fights, I was preparing only off what Velena had told me. Not exactly an ideal situation, but at least I wasn’t going in completely blind. Still, nervousness was eating away at me as I thought about the eventual duel.
Steadying myself, I finished the last of the preparations before we found the enemy army that was waiting for us. The massive force in front of us was comprised almost completely of orcs. Their large bodies were covered in metal and leathers taken from the monsters they had slain or those they defeated in combat. It was like this for all orcs who walked the path of a warrior in service to their god. You could not be given anything, you had to earn it in battle.
This system also served as a way of denoting rank or authority. What you wore basically showed off how successful you were in fighting, which would earn you the respect of your peers and authority over any who recognized your accomplishments as greater than theirs. Disputes on such matters would also be settled with combat, not often to the death unless grievous insults were exchanged that drove one side or the other into demanding it.
Almost everything in their religion was decided with this method. It was even rumored that the title of champion itself could be taken in ritual combat, though no one could confirm, and no orc would admit as much. As I considered their culture of combat I was snapped out of my own head when the orc’s army started to shift around the middle.
The sea of large green bodies started to move, starting further back in the formation and slowly coming to the front. With the movement came a cacophony of noise as the army started to pound their weapons against either the ground, or their shields. Eventually a breach was formed, and from this breach emerged a familiar orc that was at least a head taller than any other. He marched with confident and powerful strides to the front of his forces while his soldiers were worked up into a frenzy.
I could see clearly his attire now, and it was a mixed bag of dizzying proportions. His right arm was covered in plate armor, segmented into bands that stretched from his hand to his shoulder. Chainmail was covering his chest, though it was strange as the metal appeared in a variety of different hues. Underneath the chainmail was a patchwork collection of hides sewn together that covered most of his upper body. His upper thighs were protected by another set of metal plates while his lower calves were covered by tough leather that ended at a pair of thick boots. All in all, it wasn’t a pretty combination, but that wasn’t what it was meant to be. It was a testament to his skill and victories
Once he had a few meters of distance between himself and the front row of his army, he planted his feet solidly on the ground. This was apparently a silent signal as his forces behind him stopped banging their weapons, casting the field into an uneasy stillness. I saw the champions hands move to either side of his waist, and from there he removed a pair of weapons. A set of hand axes, slightly larger than normal, made an appearance and were hoisted into the air.
A bellowing roar loud enough to cross the field came from the champion, and this was quickly followed by gouts of fire erupting from behind him, creating an infernal backdrop that was rather intimidating. This display was met with the cheers and roars of his army in support. The sound must have been near deafening from their side because it was loud even at the distance we were from them.
My own army fidgeted nervously at the display, none of them particularly eager to face a wall of magical flames. Luckily for them, and unluckily for me, they wouldn’t have to, and the orcish champion made that clear just a moment later. With the flames he conjured still dancing behind him and the voices of his army fading out, he called out across the empty expanse in a powerful voice.
“Champion of the dark one! Face me in combat and let our blood and strength decide the victor of today!” The message was clear, and I had to wonder if he was somehow magically enhancing his voice so it would reach us, or if it was just naturally that strong. Whatever the case was, he had called me out, so I had to at least answer him in person.
I had already made all the preparations beforehand, so there was no excuse I could use to delay this meeting, and eventual battle. Modifications to my armor and weapons were complete, and the volunteers that offered their assistance were ready to go. With the last check done, I dismounted and made my way out into the field.
My approach was noticed, and the orc champion started to walk towards me as well, flames dying down behind him as he moved away. The tension in the air slowly increased as the distance between us shrank. There was a part of me that thought he might simply jump me as soon as I got in attacking range, and I readied myself for that just in case. It did not come to that, and in fact, he stopped several meters away from me, weapons still held, but in a relaxed manner. Even at a distance, he still loomed over me.
He made a gesture with the head of his axe at me. “Let me see the face of the man I'm to fight.”
I considered the wisdom of taking off my helmet. What do you think? Would he try to kill me?
It is unlikely. He has called you out for a duel, and to strike in such an underhanded manner would tarnish his reputation. I’ll leave the decision up to you.
There wasn’t much time to think, but I came to decision quickly. I removed the helmet, keeping it under my arm for the duration of this conversation. The orc gave me a tilt of his head, observing me.
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“You know, I thought you’d be a little older at least. Not much glory in breaking a child.”
I felt mildly insulted by that, but I didn’t let it get to me even as I shot back at him. “Not much glory in defending the murder of innocents either.”
He pointed a very direct finger at me. “I’m not defending shit! I don’t know, nor do I care for your reason for all of this. The only reason I am here is because I thought the master of the dead would be a worthy opponent.”
“And I take it you don’t think I am?”
A belly laugh escaped him. “You have five swords!”
It was true, I had taken with me a frankly uncomfortable number of weapons. “Does it really matter? I just need to know how to use them correctly.”
His chuckling tappered off a little bit, but it was clear that he was still amused. “Sure kid. Use them all! Perhaps one of them may be able to hit me.”
He was underestimating me, which was good. “So, you want to decide the outcome of this battle with a duel? How will this be enforced?”
“Simple, if you win, my army will go home and not bother you for the rest of this war. Though if I win, I’m keeping your armor, those bones too, and my men will have some fun with the rest of your forces afterwards.”
So, even if they win they still want to fight? I guess that tracks with what I know. “I hope you don’t expect them to just roll over and die.”
“Ha! I hope they won’t. That would take all the glory out of it. Besides, I may want to add a few more links to my armor other than yours.” He gave his chest a tap with the flat of his axe which cause the chainmail to jingle a little. I suppose that explained why the links looked so different, each one was apparently created from someone else's armor, which showed the ridiculous number of fights that he had won before now. The new knowledge certainly wasn’t helping my nervousness.
“Very well, I suppose those are acceptable terms.” I tried my best to keep my voice steady as I talked. This was a high-risk engagement, but if I could pull through then it would save us time, resources, and most importantly, lives.
“So we have a fight then?” My nod to his question was the last bit of confirmation he needed. Reaching around behind him, he removed a large metal ring big enough for his hand to fit through and held it high. The sight of the ring caused his forces to cheer behind him.
“Then I, Darlou, champion of the Father of Flames, declare this duel under the eyes of the gods.” He proclaimed loudly. “The fight will begin when this ring hits the ground. Show me what you got, champion.”
With that, he pulled back and threw the ring up into the air as hard as he could. Immediately he dropped down into a combat stance, ready to spring forth at a moment notice. I followed his lead and donned my helmet again before drawing my sword.
“Just the one?” Darlou needled me, though didn’t drop his guard.
“For now.”
The brief exchange was all we had time for as the ring was dropping back to the earth very quickly. I had barely even cast a glance upwards, but the glint of the metal in the sunlight marked its rapid approach. My heart was hammering in my chest as the anticipation seemed worse than the inevitable clash. Our gazes were locked on one another, unflinching, unwavering. Then it finally happened.
With a loud ping sound the ring struck the ground, and things exploded into motion. With a mighty bellow Darlou charged, axes poised to strike. There was a distinct lack of fire flowing from him, which led me to believe he thought he could kill me without it. He would probably have been right, if I had no time to prepare for this.
Darlou’s opening attack came in strong with a right handed swing coming in diagonally at my shoulder. While I would have loved to avoid the strike entirely if possible, I was carrying a lot of extra weight right now, and that was slowing down my movement. I stepped to the side and put up a defense, causing his axe head to hit off my weapon and then glance against my armor.
The second blow I was not as prepared for as he did an unexpected thrust with his other axe, driving the metal head of it into my gut. My armor absorbed most of the blow, but the raw strength behind it was enough to bruise and shove me backwards. He continued to pressure me, swinging away with the intent to follow through but not in a wild way. Every strike was measured and calculated; controlled fury being steadily released by this giant of an orc.
This dance lasted a while, and I was firmly on the back foot for its duration. Without this armor I probably would have been dead twice over as it deflected and absorbed several hits for me, leaving me in pain but still very much alive. I needed to get one good situation to start my plan, but I might not live to execute it at this rate.
That was when I saw a chance. Darlou made an attack with both axes from the same direction, and I took the chance by stepping into the attack and catching the blow with my weapon halfway down the axe haft which mitigated much of its force and locked our weapons together. Darlou didn’t seem too troubled by this, and in fact took the opportunity to speak.
“I’ll give you credit, you lasted longer than I thought you might, but is this all a champion of the dark one can do?”
“No, I was just waiting for the right moment.”
With a silent command a bone on my pointer finger started to glow. From within the small space that existed on my chest armor emerged an undead serpent of particularly notable toxicity. It crawled out of the gap underneath my arm and quickly shot out towards the enemy, sinking its fangs into the exposed flesh of his hand.
A pained growl escaped the champion as he gave a shove to separate us. I stumbled backwards and Darlou created space for himself as well while the snake continued to pump venom into him. With a quick grasp of a meaty hand, he yanked the serpent off his flesh and glared at it, then me, balefully.
With no prompt, the snake caught fire and started to writh before falling still as its flesh was seared off. Fire apparently did not bother the champion, which was no big surprise given his patron. The snake was discarded, but the flames remained, burning in his hand.
“So you like your tricks huh? Very well, then let us see if they can save you.” When he took up his axes again, the heads of the weapons erupted into fire. It seemed he wasn’t going to hold back as much anymore. That was fine, because now that he had the venom in his body, neither was I.
The changes I had made to my armor with the assistance of a few volunteers would now come into play. I had attached four rune carved skulls of volunteers with advanced levels of decay to my back, and each of those skulls was connected to a similarly skeletal arm with which they had control over. They had been keeping still for the duration of the fight thus far, acting as part of the collection of bones that I had attached to me, but now that the signal was given, they began to move, each arm grasping for one of the extra swords I had with me.
These weapons that had been a detriment to me were now being properly used as Darlou had five swords being brandished at him. The goal was to get his heart racing now that he had venom in his veins. It was toxic enough that even an orc his size would be beyond saving if he went thirty minutes without healing or antivenom. So now was the time to press the attack, and I rushed to close the distance between us again and expedite the toxins movement.
Even as I swung my blade the volunteers riding upon my back acted independently with their own slashes, stabs and general attacks. Darlou was now looking a lot more concerned and taking the fight extremely seriously as he was forced to dodge, block and weave around the various strikes heading his way. The tables had turned, and it was his turn to be on the backfoot.
He wasn’t able to make much use of his newly alight weapons as he was placed firmly on the defensive due to me suddenly sprouting four extra weapon ready arms. His skill was impressive, because even while being attacked at several different angles at the same time he managed to avoid a solid hit. There were small blows landing, little cuts here and there, but nothing serious.
I could see him getting frustrated as he continued to be forced back. Eventually he snapped, and with a savage roar flames burst up around him, sending a heat wave that made me wince and unconsciously step back. The fires seemed to be almost alive as they turned and writhed in the air. Then Darlou made a gesture, and the flames rushed towards me in an infernal tidal wave.
The only thing that could be done in the face of that was run. I sprinted along perpendicular to him as fire bit at my heels while I zigged and zagged across the field. My armor was able to protect me somewhat from the flames, but if the metal got too hot or I was bathed in the fire, the heat would prove too much, and I would be burned.
Looking over at Darlou, I noticed that he was panting and seemed to be unsteady on his feet. The venom must have been working. He was keeping me at bay with the fire he was conjuring, and while the venom might eventually put him out of the fight, I could not keep running like this forever. Eventually I would tire, and then he would hit me directly with a fireball that would do significant damage if not kill me. I had to make a move before that happened, but anything I could do involved a risky move.
Well, it was either guaranteed death, or possible death. I went with the latter, and after another torrent of fire landed where I had been a half second ago, I pivoted quickly, and charged directly at Darlou. If he was surprised by my change of target, he didn’t show it, and instead just launched another fireball at me.
I dodged the first one, narrowly ducking under it as it passed me by. The second one managed to hit me as I attempted to avoid, splashing against my arm and heating me up to the point of scalding. Ignoring the pain, I continued to push closer, and as I neared him the third attack landed that I knew I wouldn’t be able to dodge.
He threw up a hand and from his palm emerged a constant stream of fire directly into my body. I shielded my eyes and leapt straight at him through the raging flames. It hurt, by the gods did it hurt as the fire found its way into every crevice of my armor that was quickly turning red with heat. I couldn’t see anything, so I was relying almost solely on my passengers who were ready to strike.
Maybe he would have been able to dodge it if he wasn’t himself blinded by the flames he threw, or if his mind wasn’t addled by the venom that was surely taking its toll on his abilities. Whatever may have been, what happened was that one skelatal arm stabbed him in the hand that was shooting the flames, directing it away from us, another got him in the shoulder, one in the leg, and the fourth in the gut. Without the fire I was able to drop my guard over my eyes and focus on this final attack. I let out a roar of my own as I channeled all the pain, fear, and desperation into a thrust that broke through his chainmail and embedded a few inches of steel into his chest.
An eerie calm fell over the field. The only sound to be heard was groans of pain broken up by a choking cough. Darlou looked like he was struggling to stand as blood was ejected from his mouth with every cough. His eyes were foggy, out of focus, and his teeth were gnashed together in painful concentration. He looked me in the eyes, and his axe dropped from his other hand that rose towards me.
For a second I thought that he was still trying to fight, but then he placed the weak hand on my shoulder. A half smile found its way onto his face that looked like something between resignation and satisfaction.
“You’re crazy, kid.” He said between rasping breaths. “I like you.” He chuckled a very pained laugh that forced out another few bloody coughs.
Then Darlou seemed to lose his balance, and began to fall forward. I moved without thinking and caught him, keeping him propped up on his feet. There we stood, a giant of an orc leaning on me, my glowing armor still cooling from his attack, but the heat did not bother him, and in fact, he seemed almost comforted by it.
He spoke only once more, his last request in a voice that was quiet and fading fast. “Take my armor. You... earned... it...”
His body went limp, and I was forced to put him down lest the both of us fall over. A moment later, his soul, bright and unweighted, left his body before gently disappearing into the air. I had done it, I had won. Just about everything hurt every time I moved, but I won.
The sight of me standing over the body of the orc champion caused my army to burst into cheers in celebration of my victory. I did not share in their joy. As the rush of battle left me, and all the emotions that came with it died out, I felt a strange combination of accomplishment, and melancholy.
Eventually, I just shook my head and cleared my mind of those feelings. Darlou had wanted this, some might have said it was all that he was looking for. He was a great warrior, that much was an unassailable fact. I had knowledge of how he fights, how he acts, and a willingness to take an insane risk to win. Without that, I may have lost this fight.
Despite it not being a part of my own religion, I decided to honor his request, at least in part. Removing the chainmail from him took some time, but I eventually slipped it off him. The damage to it wasn’t all that bad, and it could probably be repaired if I had the desire to do so.
Once I stood up again, I looked now to the orc army to see how they reacted to my victory over their champion. They stood in stoic silence, looking at me, though not with anger or disgust, but seemingly quiet respect. Then they did something that I didn’t expect.
The first row of their army kneeled and bowed their heads. After that, each row behind them did the same, one at a time until the whole army was kneeled. It was surreal to witness, and I didn’t know if I was supposed to respond to it or what I would even say if I did. With no ideas on how to handle it, I simply nodded in their direction, turned around, and hobbled my way back to my army, gritting my teeth all the way. This was one major obstacle out of our path, and now only a few more remained. The final stretch of this long road was in sight.