Rhatheth, Daggerfall,
Three Minutes Earlier.
A few orcs from Ragelock’s tribe patrolled the village’s perimeter alongside Rhatheth’s orcs while engaging in animated chatter. The groups argued over whether the negotiations’ outcome would be war or not and how large the potential conflict could get. However, the orcs’ boisterous arguments were unceremoniously cut short by a massive explosion that echoed out from the village’s center.
Rhatheth’s orcs paled as they collectively turned to see a massive column of smoke rise from the village center. Frantic shouts exploded throughout the village as the orcs made to rush to the village center.
Schlick! Schlick!
However, at this exact moment, dozens of orcs cried out in pain and disbelief as they were either ran through or decapitated by their Ragelock brothers. One such orc spun around and glared at the Ragelock tribesman who had backstabbed him.
“Why!? What are you doing!?” The injured orc questioned with reluctant rage burning in his eyes. Although they had suspected this meeting might be a trap, they never thought it would be their fellow orcs who would betray them.
The Ragelock tribesman did not say a word in reply. He instead brandished his ax above his head and struck at the injured orc. The injured orc cried out and hastily crossed his arms over his head.
Thud!
The ax heavily impacted against the orc’s arms. The injured orc’s right arm was cut clean off while the blade buried itself halfway through the left. The orc, already accepting its demise, glared at the traitor with red eyes. “You’ll pay for this!”
BAM!
The injured orc suddenly kicked out and successfully drove his foot into the traitor’s stomach. The traitor blanched and doubled over as the air was knocked out of his lungs. Rather than use the opportunity to escape, the injured orc fished out a skullbone horn from his belt. He weakly placed the horn against his lips and heavily blew on it.
Vrwoooo!
The horn blared across the village, powerful, mournful, and powered by an unrelenting rage. As if answering this one horn’s call, several horns wailed over the town, sending a message only the Rhatheth orcs understood.
The orc who started the call let out a weak, triumphant grin as he watched the traitor rush at him with reddened, rage-filled eyes. He laughed as the traitor’s ax descended on his head. “See You Soon!”
Crack!
“ Schcuck!” The traitor cursed as he pulled out his ax from the crushed skull. He glared at the village, wondering what the message was. He could not shake off the feeling that something was wrong. The Rhatheth orc’s first instinct when ambushed was not to fight back in anger but buy enough time to blow that bugle. If he did not know better, he would have thought the orc was expecting the ambush and was given clear instructions on what to do.
Unfortunately for the traitor, it turned out his instincts were on point.
Within the village, the Rhatheth orcs stopped on their way to inspect the explosion. The Rhatheth orcs cast unwilling, guilt-filled gazes toward the village center but then formed small groups of three to five and charged out of the village.
These groups slaughtered their way out of the village, not even hesitating when faced with the Ragelock clan members.
Unfortunately for the Ragelock clan, most of their clan members were hidden in an elephant grass field a few hundred meters from the village. This had been the ‘agreement’ with Rhatheth, as ‘insurance’ against a possible dwarven ambush. Of course, recent events proved this to be false. These Ragelock ‘insurance’ was the real ambush force.
In the original plan, the Ragelock tribesmen in the village would gain the Rhatheth clan members’ ire through their betrayal. The prideful and angry nature of orcs would force the Rhateth clan to seek out and battle the Ragelock clan to the death and seek to protect their chief. This would buy enough time for the Ragelock clan hidden in the bushes to surround the village and wipe them out.
But what was this!? The Rhateth were not following the script! In perhaps the most cowardly event in all of orcish history, the Rhatheh clan members abandoned their leader and their revenge to flee the town.
By the time the Ragelock clan reached the village, the Rhatheth clan members had broken out of the town and further scattered into the wind.
What was worse, all the boars had been slaughtered by the Rhateth before they ran, forcing any would-be search party to search on foot. The Ragelock clan was enraged by these despicable methods and frantically chased down the escaping orcs.
The Rhatheth orcs were not the only ones to experience the distaste of betrayal. Among the dwarven guards, those from Nuxvar suddenly stabbed Rudega’s guards amongst the commotion. The attacks were so quick and ruthless that the massacre was over in less than a few dozen seconds. The Nuxvar dwarfs packed up their things and marched to the city center after committing this murder.
Strangely, the Ragelock clan members pretended not to see the bloodstained dwarfs, almost like they had come to some form of prior agreement. The Ragelock clan members who did not join the chase followed the dwarfs to the city center. They gathered at the intersections leading to the center, with the dwarfs in front of the orcs, and closely monitored the smoke, patiently awaiting the results.
Their timing proved to be perfect as the dust from the explosion cleared to reveal the current situation.
Surprisingly, it was not as the orcs had expected.
Mokern and Ungund’s bombs had indeed caused massive damage, a fact attested by Durst’s missing arm, Rudega’s missing ear, and the large cavity in both warriors’ stomachs.
Strangely, however, both men were somehow still alive, holding on to life through sheer stubborn will. However, the most shocking sight was not that these two warriors were still among the world of the living, but that they were both held in Ragnaf’s arms.
Ragnaf had Durst slung over his left shoulder and carried Rudega like a sack under his right arm.
Mokern and Undung were safely tucked away in their little mana shield, while the orc shaman, Guvern, lay in a pool of green blood on the ground. The poor shaman had been Renark’s first target. It was the bloodlust that leaked when Renark cut down the shaman that triggered Durst and bought enough time to dodge the first blow.
Indeed, if it were not for that momentary leak, Durst would have been the one lying on the ground. This was a testament to how well Renark had hidden his bloodlust this entire time.
The man of the hour, Renark Ragelock, glared at the orc opposing his final charge with disgust and rage. “Get out of my way!”
“Make Me Traitorous Cur!” Grovitch cursed as he brandished his ax and glared at Renark while positioning himself between Renark and Ragnaf. Grovitch looked over his shoulder and roared at Ragnaf. “What are you waiting for!? Run!”
“But!” Ragnaf shouted as he looked worriedly at Grovitch then surrounding orcs. If he left, there was no way Grovitch would survive this situation.
“Don’t worry about me,” Grovitch soothed the young orc. “I might not be as smart as Durst, but I’m just as strong as him. These punks can’t take me down.” He cast a gaze at the orcs and dwarfs surrounding the village. “Listen, Durst’s tactics bought us a small window. Don’t waste it!”
“Hehe, don’t shout at the child, Grovitch,” an old, haunting, weak voice joked.
Renark paled and whirled around in shock to see the supposedly dead Guvern Dreamstone seated upright on the ground. Despite the fact there were two bowl-sized holes in his chest, the old shaman looked as healthy as ever, eyes sharp, piercing, and filled with vitality.
“Impossible!” Renark shouted as he stared at the old man. “This can’t be! You’re dead!” Renark’s shock and fear were understandable. The core of his plan hinged on this old man’s death!
Renark personally punched out Guvern’s heart and lungs, so he was confident of the older man’s demise! Not even the orcs’ impressive regeneration abilities could heal a wound of that magnitude so quickly. So, how should he explain the phenomenon before him?
Wait, now that he thought about it…
“Hahahahaha!” Renark burst out in laughter as he recalled a particular phenomenon.
[Overdraw] occurred when some factors coincided at the end of a person’s life. It allowed them to pull together their entire lifeforce for one final attack or action. The most telling sign of this phenomenon was the fact that its user would, for a moment, adopt a strangely healthy appearance, sometimes even getting younger. However, once a minute had elapsed, or the attack had been used, the user would immediately pass away.
It was a rare skill that was deadly when it caught the enemy unawares. However, since Renark knew what it could do, he had no reason to be so cautious. All he had to do was be on guard for the next minute. Oh, wait, make that fifty seconds, and this dangerous bag of bones would collapse all on his own.
“Hehe, Ragelock,” Guvern snarled. “I hope you’ve prepared yourself for the consequences.” Dense, green mana swirled around the shaman’s right hand as he pointed his palm at Renark.
The traitor’s eyes hardened, and he immediately braced himself for the incoming attack. ‘Hmph! I still have that! It can at least block one attack.’
To the shock of everyone present, a malicious grin spread on Guvern’s face as his palm suddenly swiveled to Ragnaf. “Run! You fool!” Guvern ordered as a mandala suddenly appeared underneath Ragnaf’s feet.
Ragnaf’s eyes went wide as a torrential amount of power flooded into his bones and muscles. He did not know what had happened, but he understood the severity of Guvern’s sacrifice. The orc nodded and immediately charged out of the village center.
“No!” Renark roared in rage as he realized Guvern had fooled him. He made to chase after the fleeing Ragnaf, but the hated Grovitch blocked his path with a shit-eating grin.
“You’re not going anywhere!” Grovitch roared as he clashed against Renark’s ax.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
The earth trembled as these colossal men battled, each angrier than the other. Renark pressed the injured Grovitch with numerous fast-paced attacks, angrily forcing the orc to succumb to his injuries. Grovitch, for his part, played the role of a mighty bulwark. He was steady and robust, weathering Renark’s attacks with both ax and body.
“Stop that bastard!” Seeing he would not be able to catch up in a short amount of time, Renark called out to his men.
Surprisingly, Ragnaf did not hesitate even as he faced the onrushing enemies. He sprinted at full speed until he was only a few meters away from the closest enemy. At which point, he stomped on the ground, buckled his knees, and then jumped!
“WHAT!?”
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The Ragelock clan members gawked in shock as Ragnaf sailed over their heads. The young champion’s leap took him several meters behind the army, in a feat of athleticism that did not belong to someone as heavy as an orc.
Ragnaf landed on the ground with a loud thud then took off running out of the village. Some of the Ragelock clan members immediately gave chase, but an even more significant number remained as if waiting for something else.
Renark watched Ragnaf’s escape with a complicated expression. He turned to the injured Grovitch and said, “Incredible. To think you would willingly throw your life away for that weakling.”
“I won’t let you insult Durst,” Grovitch spat. “That orc is stronger and smarter than you and I combined. He’s only stuck in this small town ‘cause he’s not interested in ruling.”
“And that’s exactly why I said he’s weak,” Renark spat in disgust. He did not wait for Grovitch’s reply but instead turned to Guvern. Uncharacteristically, he bowed his head and said, “I will not apologize, Guvern Dreamstone. My ambition does not allow me to remain in a small town.”
Guvern smiled and shook his head. “The future belongs to the young. Forgive this old man for stepping in.” With those words, the shaman shut his eyes and breathed his last.
Renark turned to Grovitch and let out a loud sigh. “Put down your ax Grovitch. You’ve completed your mission. You’ll lose your life if you fight any longer...”
Grovitch snorted as he glared at Renark. “You speak like you won’t cut me down the moment I drop my ax. Don’t joke with me.” The disgruntled general brandished his ax at the traitor. “Come, Ragelock! I challenge you!”
Renark shook his head and replied, “I refuse.” He ignored Grovitch’s stunned expression and walked over to the Mokern and Ungund, who had just put down their mana shield. A dark light danced in his eyes as he looked at the dwarfs. “I’m guessing the wisben put you up to this?”
Mokern’s gaze hardened, but his son, Ungund, answered before he could speak. “Yes, but I cannot believe we had to work with a mere orc.” Ungund frowned as he gave the sized up Renark with his eyes. “Unbelievable. All that power and no brains to go with it. You chose wisely to work with us, or you wouldn’t even be fit to carry our shoes in the future.”
Renark’s lips curled up in a smile, seemingly unoffended by the dwarf’s insults. “Why? What’s happening in the future?”
Ungund opened his mouth to gloat, but Mokern hastily clamped his hand over his son’s lips.
Mokern looked at Renark and chuckled as he said, “Do not mind my son. He has delusions of grandeur. Our partnership was a success. We must focus on ridding ourselves of the external variables rather than worrying about the future.”
“Oh? That’s too bad. I am an orc of the future,” Renark lamented, but although the words were apologetic, the smile remained. “I often wonder about the future before making any decisions. For example: what will come of our relationship, and what’s the goal of the wisbens that forged this partnership?”
Mokern’s brows furrowed. “What are you talking about?”
“What happens after we return with news of the betrayal? Both sides go to war. We both become the respective leaders of our races after the competition ‘dies’ in the war.” Renark’s smile intensified as a dangerous glint shone in his eyes. “But what comes after that?”
Mokern’s gaze narrowed. “A mountain cannot contain two tigers. When the time comes, we’ll battle it out for the winner.”
“I see.” Renark’s expression fell as disappointment colored his eyes. “You’re stupider than I thought. You still haven’t realized that no matter who wins, the wisbens will be the ones to win in the end.”
Monerk’s eyes widened in shock. “What are you talking about!?”
“Go ask Durst,” Renark spat and suddenly swung down his ax.
“What are you doing!?” Mokern cried as he hastily set up a mana shield. Crack! Unfortunately, his efforts proved utterly useless as the shield smashed to pieces under the orc’s strength.
“Father!” Ungund cried out in shock and reached for his sword. Thud! However, he never got to complete the motion as an arrow suddenly burst his head to pieces.
“Ungund!” Mokern’s desperate cried out, but Renark’s ax split him in twain before he could process his loss.
Mokern’s guards met a similar end at the end of the orcs behind them. Within a few seconds, no living dwarfs remained in the town.
Grovitch’s eyelids twitched as he stared at the massacre. Even though he hated the dwarfs, something did not sit right with him. He warily looked at Renark and questioned, “What’re you planning?”
Renark leaked a grin as he looked at Grovitch. “You’ll soon enough. Now, drop your ax.”
Grovitch shook his head, and his gaze hardened. “You need me alive for some reason, don’t you?” The orc snorted and pulled out a short dagger. “Good luck with that.” The orc strengthened his resolve, shut his eyes, and drove the blade to his neck.
“Watch out!”
Grovitch instinctively reacted to the shout by opening his eyes, where he was met with the sight of a thrown handaxe inches away from his head. Despite wanting to die a moment ago, his body instinctively reacted, and he ducked below the thrown ax.
BAM!
Before Grovitch could recover, a pair of strong hands grasped the back of his head and crushed his face against a sturdy kneecap. Blood burst out of Grovitch’s nose, but his attacker did not stop there.
Renark drove his knee two more times into Grovitch’s face, then tackled the disoriented orc onto the ground. He then proceeded to pummel Grovitch with terrible torrents of punches that left Grovitch bloodied and unconscious by the time he was done. He instructed a group of orcs to tie Grovitch and take him to a previously discussed location.
Renark then looked toward the east, which was the direction Ragnaf had fled in. He assigned a few orcs to arrange the scenes to make it look like the dwarfs had launched an ambush and were killed in retaliation, then took a small contingent of one hundred orcs with him to chase after the only loose ends left in his plan: Ragnaf, but most importantly, Durst.
Ragnaf would never rest easy without confirmation of Durst’s death.
Tulpar Tribelands, Kirkcour Woods.
5:56 pm. 14 th Banem 1092.
The Tulpar tribe differed from most other tribes in that their entire village was located inside a massive cave. A giant wooden gate blocking the cave entrance was the only entry point to the town.
Massive tall trees shrouded most of the cave area, save for a grassland patch near the entrance.
At this time, the wooden gate lay broken on the ground, and corpses littered the area, bearing testament to the terrible battle that was fought there. But, if one had been expecting the fight to have ended in the Tulpar Tribe’s loss, then they would have been sorely mistaken as a peculiar sight was unfolding on the grassland surrounding the Tulpar Tribe.
It seemed the Tulpar tribes-centaurs had somehow managed to trap the monsters in a tight circle.
Because of how bunched together the monsters were, it allowed the centaur army to slaughter them with little to no retaliation. Looking at the overall damage, such a situation made no sense, a sentiment shared by many warriors as they mercilessly cut down the monsters.
“Kill them all!” Darian shouted in excitement as he stabbed his way through the monster horde that previously surrounded the Tulpar tribe. Even as he hacked down the monsters, he could not believe how smooth this rescue operation had been. The centaur recalled how pensive they had initially been when they first arrived at Tulpar.
An hour earlier, when they arrived at Tulpar, they had paled at the massive number of monsters attacking the fort – they almost doubled the amount sent to attack the Lymar tribe. It seemed that the mastermind paid particular attention to this town and wanted it taken down at all costs.
Kashi, at the time, surveyed the terrain then suggested a couple of unconventional strategies that, at the time, did not make any sense. If it were not for the incredible strength the daeben displayed in Lymar, they might have laughed him off or looked down on him as a glory chaser.
However, as it stood, the centaurs did adopt the daeben’s crazy strategy. The first step was to split their forces into three units. The first unit, led by Shadow and Darian, had 300 men and attacked from the north-west, while the second unit, led by Larsial and a commander under Gelarios called Casetes, led a similar number of men but attacked from the south-west. Shadow and Larsial’s main jobs were to act as real-time communicators between Kashi and the two armies.
The final unit of 400 centaurs remained with Kashi at a location several hundreds of meters down the road, out of eyesight. As per Kashi’s orders, Shadow and Larsial’s troops interchangeably charged at the edges of the monster horde, shaving off at least a few hundred monsters with each attack.
Notably, the charging parties never struck into the heart of the monster army but patiently whittled away at the monsters at the rear guard.
Initially, the monsters did not care about their companions’ loss because they could see the gates were about to come crashing down, but irritation began to grow amongst the monsters with every pass.
Darian and Casetes’ forces began to experience more resistance during their raids, as increasingly more monsters chose to continue to chase after them even after they had disengaged. Despite this, Kashi only instructed them to keep doing the same.
Eventually, a loud crash echoed throughout the forest, causing a visible stir within the monsters. The gate had finally fallen! The monsters excitedly charged at the soldiers behind the gate, managing to slaughter a few dozen within the short span of a second.
However, as if predicting this exact moment, Kashi and 300 soldiers suddenly appeared behind the monsters. He immediately emptied his mana to unleash [Gilgamesh], disguised within several volleys of arrows shot by the accompanying soldiers into the heart of the monster army .
BOOM!
Terrible wails poured out amongst the monsters as several thousand were instantly routed in one second! This was the most significant loss they had suffered in the entire day, and it needed to be avenged!
Kashi, however, did not seem to care for their vengeance. He immediately turned around and fled down the road with his troops. As they fled the scene, the monsters instantly ‘made the connection.’ This army was the same one that had been harassing them all this time. They had ignored these 300 warriors because they counted for nothing in the grand scheme of things, but if the centaurs had enough firepower to wipe out thousands at once, then they could not be allowed to live!
Rooar!
The enraged monsters ignored their original target and chased after the fleeing daeben down the road.
However, the centaurs in the village, enraged at losing their brethren, charged after the monsters, attempting to cut down as many as they could in this critical juncture. And so, a weird scene played out, with Kashi and his three hundred troops running ahead being chased by a horde of monsters, who were in turn, pursued by the Tulpar tribe warriors.
At some point down the road, Kashi’s troops suddenly split in half, revealing 100 centaurs charging down the path. The monsters could not stop in time and could only miserably cry out as the centaurs crashed into them and destroyed their momentum like a brick wall.
The monsters panicked and tried to dodge to the left and right, but 300 centaurs suddenly came charging in from both sides and boxed them in. Finally, the monsters attempted to turn back the way they came after realizing it was a trap, but they had even worse luck as they were faced with the sturdy Tulpar tribe.
The Tulpar tribe was a reclusive, defensive tribe, seen by their remote dwellings within a cave. This trait of theirs translated to their primary choice of weaponry, which consisted of massive heater shields as tall as they were and a spear or halberd.
The shields proved handy, as the Tulpar tribesmen formed a wooden wall at the back and halted the monsters’ advance. Recognizing the golden opportunity, several Tulpar tribesmen spread out and began to replace the Lymar tribe at the frontline, using their shields to block the desperate strikes.
Meanwhile, the Lymar tribesmen fired arrows into the trapped monster army or stabbed through gaps in the formation, slowly but surely whittling down the monsters.
Eventually, due to the centaurs’ constant pressing, the monsters were bunched so tight they could not even find space to move, let alone attack. It was at this point the try massacre began.
Kashi, Shadow, and Larsial jumped into the mess and began harvesting lives like they were wheat. Thirty minutes later, the final monster lay dead on the floor, allowing the centaur warriors to catch their breath finally.
After a few moments of rest and respite, Kashi was taken to the tribe’s chief. Kashi explained his mission plan to the leader, who, thankfully, did not kick up much of a fuss. He willingly handed a medallion to the daeben and contributed 1000 shield warriors to the cause.
Kashi thanked the chief, then once again set off with the new force. It was bound to be a wild night for the daeben.