—SKULL LORD—

“Keep on fighting, let’s kill these pathetic bastards who keep thinking that they can kill us!”

I shouted as I swung my club, pulverizing the head of a cheeky orc that thought he could face me. I had not the time to face these small fry but the two Lords refused to step out onto battle, fucking cowards the two of ‘em. They aren’t worthy of the title of Lord if they are too afraid to step out onto battle. In a bad mood, I swung my club harder than usual, the club flying out of my hand as I failed to keep a good grip, killing whatever orc happened to be in its way.

“Oh for fuck’s sake!”

I growled, irritated as more enemy orcs surged, thinking that I was helpless without my weapon. My fists proved them wrong, although I had a lot of my work cut out for me as my guards immediately rushed to my defense, giving me some room to breathe as I walked towards where my club lay. I then used it to crush a few more heads, the feeling of satisfaction slightly alleviating my bad mood.

Suddenly, off in the distance, I noticed orc bodies being tossed into the air as if by an enraged mountain bear, although I couldn’t see what was responsible. But when I felt the earth tremble slightly and finally saw what appeared to be a piece of stone as large as a log smash a few more orcs to death, I smiled, Yargul had come.

“Final-fucking-ly, the bastard arrived!”

I shouted to my soldiers next, “Guess who finally joined the fucking party, it’s Yargul! Come on lads, let’s go meet him so we can teach him a lesson for being late!”

With an affirming roar of reply, I took my club and charged out from the gate, the orcs inside following my lead.

———

The two armies, Yargul’s and the Skull Lord’s, attempted to meet, however, the force of enemies between them were simply too many in number. Realizing that to meet each other was a futile effort, the Sull Lord was the first to withdraw, Yargul soon following suit, keeping slightly hilly area to make his camp. While a few hundred thousand of his orcs surged forth to gain more territory on the small plain which surrounded the Skull Lord’s city, Yargul ordered the remaining orcs to set up camp, the orcs creating large fire pits in preparation for tonight’s dinner, a lot of fire would be needed to cook the amount of meat the orcs would devour.

Much of the daylight was spent gaining as much land as possible, inching their way towards the city although each inch was paid for dearly in orcish blood. After the basic foundation of an orcish encampment was made, Yargul then led his personal unit out to battle, numbering four thousand in number. And while all the orcs itched for battle, Yargul did not allow them to go out just yet, this was a battle that had a lot more at stake than just a win or a loss, this would decide his very fate, he wasn’t going to have his life fucked over just because he couldn’t control his army.

But he did allow for rotations, the number of orcs fighting on the perpetually changing frontline would rotate as fresher units from the back would reinforce and replace those already at the front. This was something else he had learned from his various battles with the Orc Commander, for he found that the Commander would never dedicate all of his forces right away, rather he would keep some of them hidden only to appear at the most irritating moments.

Of course, he couldn’t replicate the Commander exactly but he could still do this to create some sort of system where all of his orcs could be satisfied with fighting while keeping his camp safe. Some clan leaders opposed to this idea but to them Yargul gave a simple answer, follow his orders or die, he didn’t care which. After all, if the leaders followed his orders that would be nice but if they died, he could absorb them into the Ulgar Clan. It was a win-win for Yargul, that and the fact that more clan leaders were loyal to him than those who dared to question his authority. He had the advantage if the chieftains dared to rebel against him.

After this had been decided on, Yargul decided to stay put for the moment, he found battle itself to be rather boring and besides, night was falling. As night fell, the fighting continued, the orcs using their moderately better eyesight to fight in the dark. And as one might expect, the fighting became far more vicious as orcs swung out without hesitation, killing allies and enemies alike, only recognizing moving shapes rather than fellows and enemies.

Meanwhile, the rest of the orcs either slept or ate, a couple thousand orcs sent out to retrieve the corpses of the dead to cook. Yargul himself had gone out to select his food for himself, using his authority and power to gain the choicest corpses for consumption. With that done, he yawned and promptly fell asleep, having nothing else to do. His personal unit comprised of only Ulgar warriors kept watch over him, assassinations were not too common as most orcs looked down on the practice but it was not unheard of.

Morning came and the sun shone once more on the orcish battlefield, fresh clans, whom Yargul had given permission, marching out to replace the fighters that had fought all night long. These fighters gladly retreated, they weren’t too tired but they were definitely hungry. They took back with them the corpses of other orcs to feed on while the fresh clans continued the battle. And joining them was Yargul himself, followed by his personal unit of Ulgar Warriors. They numbered only forty thousand but with Yargul at their head, they managed to pierce deep into the enemy’s ranks, the other clan warriors in Yargul’s army following, appearing as a large wedge which was being forced deep into the enemy.

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At the head of this was Yargul himself, several tens of feet ahead of his soldiers as he had two rules on the battlefield for his soldiers to follow, to kill their enemies without faltering and to not get in his way. This was for their safety as Yargul did not differentiate from enemy and friend when he was fighting, he just attacked with the intent to kill.

It was a fighting style that befitted an orc such as him, for unlike most others he could afford to fight alone. After all, being covered in four-inch thick stone armor and weighing over four tons, he didn’t exactly have the time to carefully choose where his attacks were going. It was far easier to pulverize enemies with a wide swing and stomp on any who managed to survive. It was a mechanical way of fighting but it was one that worked, allowing Yargul to kill many small fry with ease.

Virtually invincible in this form of his, Yargul was able to wreak havoc among the enemy with impunity, although this form was far more taxing than the others. Even with his near limitless stamina, he was running out of energy and when the sun was high in the sky, he was unable to keep using his earth magic to aid in moving this unwieldy form of his, forcing him to use his ice magic. As the stone armor fell from his body, sharp, clear and white ice soon covered his form, slicing through enemies rather than bludgeoning them to death. He began to dual wield a blade of ice and his great axe, wielding his axe with his left while he would stab and slash with his sword, creating a new one every time it broke.

In this more safe form, his orcs fought by his side once more, giving him some breathing room which he did not refuse. Normally he would have berated them for helping him but, as much as he hated to admit it, he did need their help. And so side by side by his orcs, most of which were the surviving warriors of the Ulgar Clan, those that he would trust unhesitatingly with his life. During their years of fighting together, they grew to know almost instinctively how to work together, the Ulgar Warriors supporting him whenever he needed it and keeping their distance whenever he was in his stone armor.

When the sun was three-fourths its journey through the sky, Yargul shouted, “Keep fighting for me, I’ve just gotten pretty fucking bored so I’ll take a break! I expect you to have pushed deeper into enemy lines when I return!”

The Ulgar Warriors shouted in affirmation, making some space for Yargul to slip through while the rest of them closed the gap at the tip and continued to push forward. The wedge was still driving deep into the enemy but noticeably slower, Yargul making his way back to the camp to eat and regain the energy he lost. He needed to reach the gates of the Skull Lord’s city as soon as possible and to do that, he would have to lead the wedge.

Of course, this wasn’t the entirety of Yargul’s army, there were only seven million or so. These were the fastest of the orcs while more were on their way, numbering fifteen million. Of course, this coupled with the Skull Lord’s own army which numbered eleven million would give them a force that would be able to contend with the enemy’s forty-three million, the numbers on both sides having been whittled down from their original numbers.

But still, a force of thirty-three million was still vastly outnumbered by forty-three million, it would be better if the Trident Lord would arrive but if she didn’t then they’d just have to make do. After all, it was better to plan with what you have to work with rather than with what you don’t have. The plan was just to defend until the enemy’s forces are drained and then make one final push to defeat them once and for all. It was a good plan but plans often do not go as desired, there are variables that mortals cannot account for and as such, these plans often need space for flexibility or else it would meet failure.

In this case, Yargul was also thinking of an escape plan, he had no qualms with abandoning the Skull Lord if it meant his survival, he was just staying with him because if he did, the outcome of success would be most beneficial. However the moment it turned for the worse he would leave, using the Skull Lord as a sacrificial lamb.

But now, now was the time to rest. The battle was not yet done and the war was not yet decided. There was still a chance for him to keep his freedom. As he rested, nursing a few wounds which he had suffered: multiple shallow cuts which covered mostly his arms but also his upper chest, a stab wound in his lower rib cage which also happened to possess a few broken ribs, as well as multiple bruises. He had really pushed himself this time, he needed to become more aware of his limits, otherwise, he may actually die. Luck was smiling down on him but it wasn’t wise to rely on such a mercurial thing, one moment Luck smiles and the other she frowns upon you.

Meanwhile, from the shadows the Surveyor watched, wondering if Yargul was strong enough to survive this battle. Yargul’s performance earlier today seemed to suggest that he would die, he may find himself to be stranded deep within the enemy with nowhere else to go. He wouldn’t have the strength to fight himself out as his stamina, while impressive, wasn’t infinite. But fortunately, it seemed that Yargul was not entirely devoid of sense, making sure never to stray too far from his soldiers.

Indeed, Yargul seemed to possess a good head on his shoulders, having created a system in which to keep his orcs in peak fighting condition, displaying cleverness that was a degree higher than most orcs. He wasn’t a genius but he was above average. This didn’t provide any new data but it did certainly make for an interesting battle, albeit only slightly.

Speaking of data, the Surveyor noticed the movement of the Orc King, suggesting the fact that he too will join in on the battle. The Surveyor was quite interested in this turn of events, how was Yargul to survive this? It sat back and prepared to record the events that were to pass.