MERCS:

Leonard ‘Cap’ Babler | Wilson ‘Twerk’ Turk | Usain ‘Usa’ Bizra | Izildra ‘Izil’ Bizra | Bletcher

Georg ‘The Hoffmeister’ Hoffman | Victor ‘Pecs’ Balinski | Eddie ‘Fortune’ Rich | The Baron

Ashlyn ‘Greenblade’ Sawrey | Liudmila ‘Mila’ Stradenko | Christoph ‘The Bowman’ Gerd

Jaelin ‘The Explorer’ Topolski | Murder | Magnus ‘Mags’ Nold | Jurgen ‘Stricken’ Stricker

There wasn’t much upside to an army of orcs and goblins coming to kill you. But it did concentrate minds.

For a start, Lothar decided the battle would happen in Eisenberg. There was a case for taking the hillfort, and holding Brid’s army off there. But taking such a fortification would be time consuming. The queen’s army would likely arrive mid siege, and The Apples, defenceless, would be annihilated.

So Eisenberg it was. Mayor Steben worked with him on the evacuation. All non-combatants were sent into the mine, where they’d be relatively safe. Those who remained in the town were told to barricade their houses, and not emerge unless it looked like there was a chance of victory.

Most of The Apples were stationed in The Pig and Iron. Cap had command there, and Lothar had to hope that self-preservation would dissuade Babler from trying to get rid of him until after the orc threat was gone.

Not that he had any illusions about their chances of defeating Brid. Hence, he’d decided to play his wild cards.

Wade and Femke had dropped off his letters on their way through Avolo. Stricken was the first of his two wild cards to arrive in Eisenberg.

He came up behind Lothar, a sneer on his face. ‘Wade told me you’d pay me as soon as I got here.’

‘That was the deal,’ Lothar agreed, handing over a shilling.

‘Wade said two shillings.’

‘No he didn’t.’

Stricken grinned.

‘He will have told you that you get a shilling now, and two shillings for each orc or goblin you kill.’

‘Two shillings a kill? You must be desperate.’

‘Not really. I have sixteen mercs here. Enough to see off the attack. But this mission is all about killing, and despite your other traits, you’re a natural killer. It’s simple common sense to hire you. Just keep our terms to yourself.’

‘Don’t worry. I have nothing to say to anyone else.’

‘Good. Come to the smithy, I can fit you out with pretty much any weapon you choose.’

Stricken took his cleaver in hand. ‘You don’t have anything better than this.’

‘Alright. Armour, then.’

Stricken followed Lothar to the smithy. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up to have the man behind him, and he realised this wild card was a risk probably not worth taking. But Stricken was here now, and he might as well roll the dice.

He got the thief into a good fitting suit of leather armour, then took him into Henrik’s forge. Before Stricken knew it, Lothar and Henrik had a hold of him, and metal cuffs were placed around each wrist.

‘Henrik will release you as soon as the orcs get here,’ Lothar told him.

‘You bastard! I’ll kill you!’ Stricken shrieked at him.

‘You’ll have to be quick,’ Lothar said as he left, ‘to get me before the orcs do.’

***

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From his hiding place on the roof of The Pig and Iron, Jaelin watched as the orcs strolled into the village. They think they already own the place, he noted, as he observed their swagger. As well they might, since there were around one hundred, powerfully built warriors. Their armour and weapons were rudimentary, for the most part. But their strength and size negated that shortcoming. Meanwhile, they had the numbers to overwhelm Eisenberg, even without their goblin allies.

Those creatures, and their warg mounts, he couldn’t yet see. Given their greater mobility, there was a good chance they would enter Eisenberg from a different direction, trapping its defenders.

He put his face to the tiled roof of the inn as they walked past him, from the rear to the front. The first of them reached the street that ran through the centre of the village. They looked about, wondering where the expected opposition was.

An arrow, shot from the roof of the church, struck one of the orcs. Jaelin was pleased for The Bowman that his arrow hit home—it was far more satisfying.

Naturally, the attention of the orcs was drawn to the church. Next to Christoph, Stiff appeared. Redblade shone in his grip.

‘Is Queen Brid amongst you?’

The queen stepped forward, but she wasn’t stupid. Shield bearing orcs surrounded her. ‘You must be Stiff. I’ve heard a little about you. I thought you might have left before I got here, with your tail between your legs. I admire your balls, if not your brains.’

Stiff held the sword aloft. ‘You’ll soon regret coming here. Redblade will spill your blood before long.’

The orcs growled at this threat.

‘Ha. If you’re so brave, why don’t you come down here and fight me, instead of hiding up there?’

‘Maybe I will. In the meantime, I’ll let my archer thin your ranks a little while you mill about down there like the witless brutes you are.’

Christoph shot again. He targeted Brid, but her guards stopped the arrow with their shields.

Still, The Bowman’s attack on her, combined with Stiff’s words, prompted an angry response. The queen yelled in her orcish tongue, and other orcs shouted orders. A great number, about half of them, charged at the church. They crashed into the doors that were barred against them. But the great press of numbers was too much, and the doors buckled inwards.

The orcs poured into the building.

***

The smith unlocked Stricken’s cuffs, stepped back, then slid his cleaver across the floor to him.

Stricken took some pride in the care the big man took over releasing him. He also had four accomplices, armed with clubs, to back him up.

His anger had gotten the better of Stricken at first, but that had cooled now. He was here to kill, and make money doing it. The fear Stiff and these peasants had demonstrated in handling him was justified. I’m a killer, after all. He picked up his precious cleaver and left the smithy, without a word or a backwards glance.

The main street of the village was swarming with orcs. He moved around the side of the building so he was no longer in the open. Here he waited awhile, attuning himself to his environment. It was a few hours from dusk still, which made hiding and stalking more difficult. But the orcs who had invaded the village were loud, which would cover the sound of his movement.

He moved around to the rear of the smithy, then slithered between the houses on this side of the village. Many were boarded up from the inside, suggesting their residents hid there. The urge to break in and murder came upon him. But Stiff would only pay him for orc or goblin kills.

A few orcs had been posted at points along the edge of the village. They looked out from Eisenberg, perhaps guarding against a surprise attack. Stricken didn’t really care why they were here. He just cared that they were isolated enough for him to target individuals.

He fixed on the orc who stood at the end of this line. Only one other orc was within sight, making him the most vulnerable. He crept up behind him, along the wall of a house.

ACTION ROUND

Orc Warrior

Orc

Warrior

Action Stats

EXP Level

3

Action Points

5

Hit Points

23

Stricken used his stealth to get closer to his victim. He didn’t panic, like some newborn calf. He was patient. In some ways, the stalking was the best bit. Why rush it?

Within range, he sliced into the back of his prey’s neck, taking thirteen hit points. His second blow took the orc in the same place, severing its artery.

His victim slumped to the ground, the attack too fast for it to cry out. But Stricken would leave the body there, for its brethren to discover. That would lead to panic and confusion.

He grinned, putting his fingers to his face, where the blood had spattered him. Panic and confusion were the friends of a killer.