In the present, we work!...
It took eight days to advance eight miles and hold the ground. The Camp actually did not move, the formal base staying near the Silver Worm to have access to water and secure the trail of supplies and new bodies arriving from behind. Sure, they could labor up along The Ring, but why?
Better to have a fortified base for rest and resupply, before going out to fight again.
The Warped naturally enough mustered and marched over to have a great fun time assaulting The Camp. Since it was a fortification, however crude, they actually massed up to attack.
Instead of fighting from The Camp, they were met out on the field by just about everyone, and were completely annihilated. A set of Greater Demons from each of the Warp Gods was slaughtered, and the True and Lesser Demons butchered on the field by Void Brothers hunting Karma. Combat magic from the elves swept the field, legions of dwarven longspears boxed them up like hedgewalls, and heavy cavalry smashed into them left and right while lancers and mounted bowmen harried the edges.
Flying monsters were unable to take to the skies, and died on the ground. The Shadowknife hunted Casters like a wraith, severing them from their own lifelines. Commanders and officers of the Warped went up against grim men with a trembling Song thundering in their hearts and minds, and died.
The array of Healing magic saved many lives. Multiple Healing Traps meant more Casters with Healing magic could operate near the lines as combat medics, pouncing on those who fell and saving them before they died, to be hauled off by other men using Disks, back to the Traps to recover and form a wounded reserve and relief force.
After seeing the efficacy of the Healers at work and the lives saved by them, all those fighting were very much in favor of more Healing magic and Disks being allocated to move the wounded. There were only two Healing Harps at work, but a Minstrel or Bard was manning them 24/7, and any wounded who could listen were allowed to stay close long enough to be Healed further.
The Warped lost twice their number of troops to the combined forces, tens of thousands of Warped humans, tauren, anthros, monsters, and demons.
A similar amount marched out of the Rift that very night, forming up for more battles.
The attackers didn’t wait for a massed attack. Marching forward quickly, the elves, the swiftest of the attackers, quickly swept through the first warband of anthros to come braying out of the Rift, and then retreated into reserve to support the others.
The Kaldens crushed the next group before falling back, and then a joint force of several knightly Orders had their way, cycle-charging their way through the savage armored troops of the Warped as ranks of spearmen in support kept them boxed.
The dwarves went up next, longspears burning Bane to the Warped, and fairly marched all over the anthros and tauren who tried to deal with them. Autobows and Autoballistae drove death at those who tried to use ranged attacks on them, the volume of fire murderous and heavy, their advance unstoppable.
The Ironblood smashed into the Warped camp proper, clearing out the craftsmen and non-combat troops there with merciless efficiency, operating together with a fluid ease that impressed even the dwarves.
Behind them, walls were built, pits dug, spikes of stone put in place, pathways formed. The ground was stained white by vivus, yet slowly reverting as the energy was leeched away by the Land, and the blue sky slowly expanded in the direction of the Rift.
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The pattern repeated, showing no signs of letting up.
The Warped would flood out of the Rift; beast-men, humans, and/or demons, coming in units of warband size, occasionally with monstrous add-ons. A force of defenders would muster to meet them in series, giving them no chance to accumulate numbers. Battle would erupt, and white fires would stain the dark land.
Every mile behind them, another wall went up. More terrain was prepared, more hedges for mass assault. Companies fought, disengaged, and others moved up to do their duty.
On the seventh day, the first iteration of a road arrived at The Camp.
Behind them, the full force of the Rockborn of Klintskun had swung into effect, outraged by the damage done to their kin. Thousands of dwarves had begun laboring as soon as The Camp started forward in the Badlands and the threat of the invading Warpbands had been dealt with.
From the slopes of the mountains, a ceaseless line of wagons rumbled along quickly-reinforced trails, bringing with them supplies, food... and stone. Thousands of tons of stone.
From the skirts of the great mountains, where the great apocalypse had come up against their Earthpower and finally faded away, a road had taken form. It was made of stone that had not been subjected to the power of the tragedy that had destroyed Yle Tyorm, but from pure stone of the mountain’s roots, forming a metaphysical connection to the outer world, a conduit of strength reinforced by the vivus from the many deaths of Interlopers on the way.
Nobody worked stone like the Rockborn, nor worked so hard and steadily. They were joined by Gnomish lairds who occupied the smaller hills of the dwarvish domain, handling the extra magic and some of the fine details of what was being built. Precise blocks of stone went down on solid foundations, the wagons rolled farther and faster, and the road extended by miles every day as they labored, driving the Earthpower into the Badlands, along a winding course near the Silver Worm and across the Dichromatic Plains, and into the Ring at The Camp.
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Overnight, The Camp turned into a fortress, walls wrought from the distant mountains rose with speed and surety, digging into and over The Ring. Along both its base and its peak, trails began to extend out, the layers of low walls were reinforced and further built up by this vengeance-fueled force of Rockborn builders and makers, following the Ring along its arc towards the Rift.
Behind them, wagons bearing dark rock brought from the depths of the mountains, carved by Rockborn artisans and craft-priests, waited to be assembled into the first of the Obelisks, while other loads slowly brought more stone to reinforce and widen the Road.
Despite all their oaths of vengeance, most of these Rockborn never set foot on the battlefield, save to replace those who had fallen. They had been told of the crazy rules this place existed under, and if they massed into an army and advanced, they would only encourage the Warped to do the same, and in greater numbers. As long as they did not take up arms, they could not be used as an excuse for the Warped to flood this place with endless foes, which limited them to mustering forces comparable to those coming to beat them.
Even the forces fighting camped out on the field, coming back to The Camp only to heal and resupply. They were here to fight, not provide convenient excuses to the Warped.
To get stronger. To Grind!
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The Grind.
Briggs crashed Endure against the flaming Sword of a Carnage Demon, sending it spinning away, cracks racing across the Tainted metal. Endure smashed into the demon’s hip, crushing the bone, and it fell, screaming at him.
He stepped past it, and Estemar’s Sword Angfar relieved it of its head smoothly.
The two of them made a devastating combination as they mowed through the battlefield. There was no holding back here, seeing if some of their men could kill more powerful troops and gain more Karma. No, the time for blooding was past.
If the men wanted to kill the more powerful foes and gain more Karma, they needed to kill the weaker ones faster. They needed to minimize casualties, preserve their lives and health, and endure until the next fight.
Endure beat like a powerful drum, Courageous thrummed out through it. His Charisma had reached 28, and being a Source, his mind had split in two. He could now run his mixed-arms Company of Ancients, humans, Rockborn, gnomes, and dhatun while simultaneously engaging in combat.
It was a good feeling. After all, he wanted to Grind, too.
Endure caught a burning Sword on its haft and powered right through the blow to smash into the Carnegi’s skull, smashing it to the ground. Estemar took another flaming Sword on his Shield, shocking the burning Carnegi wielding it when it didn’t slice right on through, and smashed the Sword down and into the ground before ducking.
Endure came around full circle, screaming above his head, and went in the demon’s right ear and out the left, bringing along everything in between in an explosion of vivus.
Estemar hastily leapt backwards and sliced off the head of the demon on the ground, and was back in position as Briggs let go of Endure. It left a white trail behind it as it slammed into the skinny chest of another Carnegi highstepping this way, taking it down as if clotheslined as a ball of unwhite fire erupted on its collapsing chest.
Steel skirled, and the crimson edge of Estemar’s white Blade glowed silver as it met another sweeping burning Sword before it could hit Briggs’ head.
Briggs reached out, grabbed the flaming hand on the Sword, and pulled as he stepped in. A knee cracked under a boot like steel, the leg going the wrong way, and the Carnegi and its overlong arms were pulled forwards, screaming into his face as it clawed at him... and he caught its other hand without missing a beat, also crouching down.
The lunging Carnegi blinked as Angfar thrust straight into its mouth and up into its skull, popping out the far side and holding there for a second.
Briggs let go of its sword hand and backfisted it across the skull. Its head went off to its left, Angfar ripping it open, and the Sword met his gauntleted forearm with a polite ting! of mithral.
Endure roared back to that hand, equally politely beat greetings to the Sword, and Briggs let the corpse drop, Estemar spinning to his backside.
“One officer!” Estemar called out, but Briggs didn’t even look around. There was a crack and thrum as the ballistae let go, and said fellow in overly-done dire harness suddenly had four glowing javelin-sized bolts in his spiked chest. As he dropped to his knees, two snipers finished him off with a bolt in each visor-slit eye after a gnome Wizard laid hands on them to give them True Seeking.
Briggs contemplated piling into a big mass of armored Warped off to the sides, big fellows reeking with Warped power trying to reach the solid line of dwarven Spears which were starting to wrap them. He heard the protests from those involved, grinned, and trotted behind them, spinning Endure and heaving it as he did.
Two armored brutes were slammed forward into the third, and with perfect timing six Spears lunged. The man in front was impaled, and his death turned instantly into a wedge, breaking the line. Before the off-balance men could regain their balance, they were bowled over from the front, as short, squat, and strong Rockborn plunged forwards and split the line of elite Warped fighters.
The gnomes flowed through between the dwarves like released water, picks in hand and striking with cruel blows to groins and knees, below the eye level of the Warped men. Around the advancing wedge, Warped were shaken and began to drop. The spear line surged and circled to follow, finding throats with rock-steady hands and gleaming eyes.
Endure slapped back into Briggs’ hand, and he threw it again and again. Within thirty seconds, the line of Warped was torn apart and they began to flee, only to pause when a line of lancers rode calmly up behind them, sealing their way out, with Briggs and Estemar and their burning Weapons right in front, waiting for them.
Hissing autobow bolts buzzed in, punching into the invaders’ armor, and dropped almost half of them. The lancers shouted and charged in, leveling their burning Lances... and plowed to a halt not ten yards from the tensed survivors bracing their axes for the impact.
The men laughed, and the startled Warped looked back just in time for a wave of gnomes to hit their legs, upend them with the hooked ends of their picks, and grimly bearded Rockborn with suddenly short Spears plunged them down and killed them.
-CALL IT!- Briggs /ordered, spinning around and looking.
Officers called out the all-clear, with the snipers pausing a moment to punch quarrels through some fleeing Warped near a hundred yards away with perfect neck shots before doing the same.
-Scan, loot, burn, clean! Wounded, hit the Traps!-
Vivic Weapons materialized and thrust into the dead, setting them on unwhite fire. Grim hands heaped bodies on top of bodies, the Weapons chopped and stabbed, and bonfires of burning dead began to rise around the battlefield.