The following morning, arguing and some shouting came from the meeting. Not all the platoon leaders liked the plan, they thought the risk too high. Others thought it’d be best to play it safe. When it came for Ruckgevir to ask if anyone had any better bright ideas, no one had any. Ruckgevir sighed, he didn’t want to use this plan either, but it was the best solution they had.
“Prepare the trap immediately. 44Th, 96th, 15th, 33rd, and 67th platoons shall be in charge of preparing and ‘springing’ the trap. 18Th, 52nd, 10th, 27Th, 1st, 9th, 99th, 43rd, and 21st platoons shall follow me so we can lead the enemy into the canyon. All other platoons shall lie in ambush nearby so we can box them in. Let us go return a wonderful favor they have given us.” he paused for a minute “Let’s do this for the general.”
The last statement got a few cries of ‘hoorah’ and the platoon leaders went and informed their groups. Ruckgevir scratched his head, now all he had to do was pray orcish scouts wouldn’t notice them entering the canyon to prepare the rocks, and get into an optimal position to pelt the unlucky warriors with arrows. He donned his helm set off to make sure preparations on his end went well enough
Setting out from the main camp, Fallion hadn’t seen any fighting but from afar, as the orcs and beast-men had refused to come forward at all. Reaching the canyon after running awhile, they found a hidden path mentioned in the dwarven maps of the area, they uncovered the small cave entrance, and lit torches before heading into it, closing the path behind them with a large boulder. The path was very straight forward, no side tunnels appeared once, and ten minutes after they had gone in, they found themselves on the shelf Ruckgevir wanted them to prepare the trap on. Immediately the 44th and 15th took out pickaxes, mining the walls to create large boulders to crush the unsuspecting foes. The 67th had two mages who set about placing ‘detonator’ rune traps all over the ground. These runes would only activate if the caster willed them to, making them ambush material perfection.
The 33rd and 96th on the other had, feathered arrows, and laid quivers all around. Each member had a bow, they would loose arrows like Ruckgevir wanted. “I’m sort of excited.” Hadvarr, spoke a wide smile was growing on his face as he worked.
“Once you are finished with your task, back into the cave. We can’t risk notice until it is too late for those bastards.” Gruff responses came all around, and the 96th platoons leader headed inside.
Preparations took the better half of the morning and weren’t complete till early afternoon. The platoons were cramped in the cave, with only one of them outside the cave, laying flat on the ground, holding a pair of binoculars and searching for the Lt. General and company. Nervous whispers echoed in the cave, and on occasion a leader would shush them. Everyone was nervous, they knew the risk if this plan failed.
Hours passed, and then their scout finally ran back into the cave “Its the Lt. General! He has the enemy army at his heels!”
Neumien nodded and gave out orders. The other platoon leaders followed suite. They waited around 10 minutes before crawling out of the cave, the orcish army was nearly in position. Fallion notched an arrow and crouched near one of the many quivers strung about.
They allowed the first few ranks of hostile warriors to pass before someone screamed ‘now’ and they kicked the supports from under the rocks, causing them to roll into the canyon. Scream of pain erupted, and suddenly magic exploded, the runes going off one by one. Immediately following suite, everyone had grabbed a bow and were firing arrow after arrow, volley after volley into crying and bellowing army. Not a single arrow flew back at them, for 20 minutes they kept this barrage up, and when the smoke cleared, only men and dwarves stood in the canyon. The trap had been far more successful than originally planned. The enemy force that had followed was at least 4,000 strong. The orcs had lost around 2,000 the day before as well. Their loses were now over 6,000, more than half their initial number.
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Next was the secondary phase. If they did per chance defeat whatever force ran into the canyon, it was time to strike at the main force once again. Ruckgevir shouted orders, and the ‘trap’ platoons descended from the shelf, conforming back into the main force
“Send a runner to have the rest of the force meet in the middle, its time we end this fight.” The confidence came from the fact they still had around 10,000 troops, even with yesterdays losses. The orcish army would be crushed in their next charge, he could feel it. It took several hours before the main army returned. Far in the distance, the orcish and beast-men forces appeared, ready to make a last stand.
Ruckgevir eyed the enemy, and turned to his forces. This battle was going well, and he had the talented warriors under his command to thank for that. “Men! Women! Dwarf! Human! Today we may end this battle, if not then we shall do so the following day! For tomorrow is the ancient respite enforced by the Treaty of Yort! Neither you or I wish to give those bastards a second to rest! Not after they slew General Denos!” Several angry cries rose out “Today we will give those invaders there just desserts! Upon my name, upon my honor, on the glory of our joint kingdoms, today is the day they regret attempting to take our lands! For honor, for glory, for your homes and families!” He raised his great sword “CHARGE!” A bellowing cry that shook the ground roared life into the army. Not even General Denos was a capable of such an inspiring speech. There was no order to the army this time. Platoons were wherever they wanted to stand. The 33rd stood at the forefront, bows and blades high, and blood thirsty faces all. The orcish and beast-men forces didn’t stay defensive this time, and also charged forward. The two meaty masses collided and bodies flew. Screams and anguished cries once more covered the Hurrden Plains as warriors took their final breath. During the fighting an arrow had pierced Condek, he turned turned and stared at Drusis as he fell to the ground, his heart taking their last beats.
“Condek!” Drusis tried to approach his dying friend, but in turn received an ax to his neck by the opponent he turned his back on, a foolhardy mistake for a warrior. Eleven of the 33rd remained. Fallion knew they had died, he knew when everyone had finally passed on. He wished their souls eternal rest and peace.
The fighting dragged on, neither side winning. The sun had long set, and marks suddenly appeared on the foreheads of all. All sides found themselves unable to swing their blade. The respite had come. Angry looks and spiteful comments were slung back and forth as the two groups returned to their camps. Until midnight the next day, neither group could in any way attack the other. Of course cursing wasn’t considered an attack unless you also used the ‘swearing’ skill as well.
Ruckgevirs face grew grim. He had wanted to end the battle right then and there, but he had no choice but to adhere to the ancient treaty. He sighed, and his gut twisted into knots, he had a bad feeling for the day after.