Attack on the Orc Fort
As I ink my quill, and begin to write…my thoughts bring to me…memories of the events that have transpired this eve. I find myself at Clann Marrach Faol Castle, along with other fellow guildmates and friends. One of our Ducal Guards, Ashma, had called upon us to raid the Orc Fort, and deal a devastating blow to their forces. Being very fond of swinging huge pieces of metal around with the intent to do bodily damage, I was more than willing to participate.
In the chaos and confusion, Ashma began to organize us into lances. For the life of me, I do not know how he managed to stay calm with someone bickering about not having a horse. As it turns out, Beck and I were appointed Lance Leaders, charged with the responsibility of commanding our own lance. As the confusion dwindled for a bit, I found myself in charge of Martin Longbow, Screaming Silence, and the Reaper. I have ventured with Martin a time or two, and knew him to be a person of great honor and courage. Although I did not know Screaming Silence or The Reaper that well, I was glad to have a full lance of battle hardened warriors at my side.
Impatience was setting in, and beginning to take hold. But, as if on cue, Justice managed to create a magical portal giving us transport to the town of Cove. In all my adventures, I have never seen so many warriors fight each other to get through a portal. Upon arriving on the other side of the magical gate, I found Cove to be quiet, a little too…and as my thoughts were interrupted, I heard a familiar voice saying that the first thing they’re going to do, is take a nearby Nobleman outside the gates and run him through. *chuckles* Laughter did ensue, as it was just Beck cutting a little tension to ease the troops’ minds.
After the laughter subsided, we made our way outside the gates….and it was quiet as well, much to my disliking. I was glad that Cove was safe, for the moment as it were….but I had high hopes of painting my armor that only my sword knows how. So, without delaying, I ordered my party to immediately make their way to the Orc Fort, as I knew that my painting skills would be of much use to me there.
Along the twisted path that winds around the mountain, we had the pleasure of meeting a couple of foul ettins. Wanting to test the mettle of my lance, I quickly set upon them as my party followed suit. And to my liking, we made waste to them in no time at all. At that moment, I knew we would be a force to be reckoned with, and I muttered, “May these foul creatures pray to whatever god they hold dear, for I will spare no quarter.”
We came into a clearing, and from what my eyes could glean, the orcish armies were in full force. My party and I made good progress through the dense clusters of orc enemies. Slaying every orcish creature that dared take us on. Somehow, during the confusion of battle, Beck’s lance managed to get ahead of us. Without hesitation, my lance gave aid to our fellow comrades, helping to kill whatever they were fighting. As more orcish bodies began to litter the ground and wave after wave began attacking, I lost track of our allies. But fear I did not. I knew them to be virtuous warriors, and they could take care of their own.
Through the mayhem of combat, and countless bodies we left strewn about, we managed to find ourselves at the gate of the Orc Fort. As the bodies of orcs began to pile up, we had to climb up over the dead to meet fresh foes. In time, Malek’s Marauders, a nickname Martin gave our lance before we left for Cove, secured the gate. I found ourselves looking at each other, with sighs of relief as we collected our strength. Silence was only threatened by the hovering of flies over the masses of dead bodies. I remember Martin making the comment that his armor has been forever turned red with the sticky blood of those left lying about, not to mention that smell.
At that point in time, I received an ethereal message from Ashma, apparently the damned orc menace had taken one of our own. He requested that we fall back, but not wanting to back away from the gates, I set Martin in charge. As much as I hated to leave my lance, other people needed me at this second, and I knew that Martin was more than capable of leadership in my absence. As I galloped towards the mountains, weaving in and out of the throes of combat taking place, I would occasionally encounter an orc chump blocking my path. With one good whack of my double axe, I continued on my way to save my fallen brethren.
Alas, I finally made it to the mountain range, but no one was there. Or at least I thought, and out of the blue…Ashma’s spirit showed itself. As I aided his spirit with my magical bandage, and allowed him to draw breath once again, I found myself in combat with a couple of foul ettins threatening to endanger my comrade’s life. It took a little time, but I finally made waste to ‘em. As the last ettin fell to the ground with a horrible groan, I received another ethereal message. But this time it was from Martin, he was just making sure that my spirit hadn’t vacated my body as well…
I found everything to be taken care of where I was, so I made my way back through the orc masses to my Lance. Arriving I found my lance mates ganging up on an orc shmuck, the only one I could see alive. For the most part, everything was calm. My lance did outstandingly well in my absence. A couple of cretins followed me back to the gates, but they were dealt with swiftly. Just as the last one fell, one of our guildmates came riding full bore past us….and then a parade of ettins and other orcish kin following pursuit. I figured there was about twenty to thirty of them. I hacked and chopped as the walked past, but alas I could not keep up with them, there was just too many….
At that point, I found myself and my lance bogged down with the shear numbers that we faced. I knew we couldn’t last forever against this orcish mob, so I called to take the tower, and the tower we did take. With righteous fervor and zealous intent, we stood fast slaying anything that dared to come up the ramp at us. The bodies began piling so high, that we began fighting on top of them, through them. We began kicking the dead things off our tower, but soon there was no more ground to kick them to. I received orders to fallback to the mountain range, and as our supplies grew dangerously short, I did agree with the decision. With a fierce charge down the ramp, I commanded my Lance through the remaining orc forces to our evacuation point. Once there, we regrouped and headed home.
Malek’s Marauders, along with the other lances combined, had done the damage that we were called upon to make, and then some. We decimated their forces and crushed their leaders beneath our blades. They no doubt will feel the carnage that we left behind that day, even if it is for a short time.
I find myself with good memories of this raid, and perhaps better friendships. I think of myself as privileged to have been given the pleasure to fight along side of Screaming Silence, The Reaper and Martin Longbow. I look forward to questing with them in the future.
Long live Clann Marrach Faol,
Malek of the Ducal Guard