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Posted By: Trey Jul 25, 2003 - 06:38 am

Naram Sin walked into the Orc city. He walked in the middle of the dirt road and entered the city through the gap in the walls of logs with sharpened tips. It was a large city by Orc standards and the walls were patrolled by armored Orcs that walked a raised platform on the inside of the walls. Several Orcs stood near the gap, watching as the human walked into their city. Orc archers held their bows with arrows nocked but did not draw. They were confident that this lone human was not an immediate threat. If they had known just who it was that so confidently entered their walls, they would have been much more nervous.

Naram Sin did not look at the mud brick buildings that flanked the road as he strode purposefully toward the center of the city. The Orcs that saw him stopped to stare at the human who casually walked amongst them. Human slaves who toiled amongst their brutish masters looked to Naram Sin with hope but they might as well have looked to the Gods for help.

At the center of the Orc city stood the Huaca, a large stepped pyramid of mud bricks. The top of the Huaca was flat rather than pointed and situated near the center was the sacrificial stone. Two earthen ramps offered access to the top starting at opposite sides and meeting in the middle. A large arena, ringed with stone blocks, lay at the base of the Huaca. Naram Sin entered the arena finally stopping when he reached the base of the Huaca, facing the ramps. There he waited, neither looking to the side nor speaking.

Many Orcs had gathered now, some quite close to Naram Sin. Most humans believed that all Orcs looked alike and indeed, the slightly protruding snout with its piggish nose and snaggletooth jaw was a universal trait. But for those like Naram Sin, who had spent time with Orcs in close quarters, they knew that Orcs where as individual as any of the other races. Each had it’s own skin tones, some solid and some mottled. Ears came in a wide variety of shapes and sizes. Even the tusks growing out of the Orcs powerful jaws were unique to the individual.

A quiet descended on the murmuring crowd of Orcs as a door in the base of the pyramid opened and two Orcs stepped out and to the side. These warriors were dressed in the finest Orcish armor of hardened leather with overlapping bronze plates. Their helms nearly covered their faces and were made to look like serpents heads. In their hands were the large bronze sickle swords with their dog leg shape that were so deadly in battle. At their sides hung Orcish battle axes, a weapon that looked more like a bronze ball with a short curved spike protruding on one side, mounted on a wooden shaft. It was very good a puncturing armor and then peeling it back.

From the open door between the two warriors an old Orc came out of the Huaca and made his way toward Naram Sin. The distance between them was no more than fifty feet it took some time for the Orc to close the distance, though Naram Sin could not tell if the reason was the advanced age of the Orc or simple the weight of his clothing. This Orc was obviously their spiritual leader. On his head was a tremendous fan of gold, standing almost two feet itself. Two more of the fans hung at his sides, starting at his hips and gradually fanning out as it reached his knees. His cloths were leather that had been dyed a deep crimson. Naram Sin suspected this garment was made of human skin and died with the blood of sacrifices. Bright feathers and bits of gold hung from the leather in various places.

Once the old Orc was within a few paces of Naram Sin he stopped. “What is your business here human?” The Orc spoke in the human language and the lisp caused by its tusks was barely noticeable.

“I am Naram Sin and I bring you greetings from Adamah.”

The old Orcs eyes narrowed as he looked a Naram Sin. “What do I care if the great Adamah should send his greetings or not,” he asked.

“Adamah asks you to remember the last time your people were called to the Warriors Geste. That time has come again.”

“The Warriors Geste,” the Orc said incredulously, “the last Warriors Geste was more than a millennium ago.”

“You are still bound by oath to answer the call. Does cowardice now rule the Orcs?”

A murmur ran through the crowd of Orcs and Naram Sin wondered if he had perhaps taken things to far. But the old Orc shrugged off the insult, either not caring or not wishing to insult Adamah by beheading his emissary.

“I am Atltepetl,” the old Orc finally said, “it means black mountain in your tongue. Tonight you will stay and celebrate with us. Then you may run back to your master and tell him that the Orcs will sing the Warriors Geste for him once again.”

Naram Sin bowed his head to Atltepetl in acceptance of his words. The last thing he wanted to do was celebrate anything with the Orcs but he knew better than to try and resist. Besides, it wouldn’t be the first time he had drank blood.

Posted By: Trey Jul 25, 2003 - 06:39 am

Warrior's Geste, Part II

Naram Sin sat on a cushion to the left of Atltepetl’s chair on top of the Huaca. Directly behind the Orc shaman ruler were the two warrior bodyguards, one of which kept a close eye on the human. It had not taken the Orcs long to get in the celebratory mood and within the hour Naram Sin was perched with Atltepetl on the Huaca while the arena below was cleared for the Orcish ceremonies. Orcs lined the sides of the arena, standing or sitting on the stone blocks that ringed the large open space

First up was the dancers, several Orcs of indeterminate sex leaped about in bizarre outfits of brightly colored cloth and feathers to the beating of invisible drums. Each had a mask that represented an animal though some were hard to distinguish. Atltepetl seemed pleased enough with the performance and Naram applauded whenever the old Orc showed his pleasure.

After the dancers came the midday meal. Naram Sin was surprised to find that all of the dishes were vegetables. This being the case he was able to eat his fill without hesitation. And now, with a full belly he sat on his cushion and waited the next ceremony and he did not have long to wait. The drums once again started, but very slow, almost like a dirge.

Across the arena the crowd parted and a procession appeared, making its way to the arena in time with the drum. At the head of the Orcish column came six warriors two abreast and wearing their finest armor and weapons. Behind the three pairs came two priests looking like younger versions of Atltepetl himself. Then came the litters, two of them carried by four Orcs each, came side by side. On each litter was an Orcish warrior, dressed for battle.

Following the litters was what Naram Sin could only guess was Orcish maidens, though in his mind there was nothing maidenly about the creatures that danced and skipped behind the warriors. He sincerely hoped he would not have to protect himself from one of the creatures during the night. He had heard that Orcish women were often curious and took lovers of other races, the key word being took.

The small parade split once it reached the two ramps, each side stepping to the beat of the drum until it had reached the bottom of the ramp. The three warriors each ascended the ramp until the priest had reached the ramps beginning and then all stopped. The litter bearers set their burdens down on the arena floor next to the ramp. The girls all sat down in the arena at the foot of the Huaca. The two warriors stood and stepped off the litter and into the arena. They made their way to the center, stopped and then turned to face one another.

As if by some unseen command, the two warriors began to fight. The long dog legged sickle sword in each of their hands flashing through the air to ring off of the other. At first, Naram Sin thought this to be a ritual battle, carefully choreographed and rehearsed. The two were very good with the sword and each attack was parried and each counter attack blocked. Naram Sin thought that these two warriors would rival the Elves themselves.

The battle went on for nearly an hour with neither of the two gaining an edge on the other. Naram Sin’s trained warriors eye saw that they were not following a planned display of martial feats as he had first thought but neither were they attempting to kill each other. The desired result was to best the other was his final answer to the mystery and that appeared the case when one of the warriors faltered, just a step, but enough to have his helm removed from his head. Suddenly the battle was over with both warriors kneeling, first to each other, then in the direction of the Huaca and Atltepetl.

Atltepetl stood and raised his hands, silence reigned as he lifted his head to the sky, the afternoon sun shining off the gold fans he wore. Then suddenly his hands and face came down and the drums started up again. Naram Sin looked down to see the six warriors moving down the ramp and to the Orc who had lost the battle. The stood him up, pulled his hands behind his back and wrapped them with a leather thong. Naram Sin was sure this bit of string would not hold the massive Orc if he decided he did want to be held but he submitted meekly and followed the warriors to the Huaca.

While the loser was being bound, the winner was brought to his feet by the maidens who had rushed to his side. Each of them did their best to touch or kiss him as the group made its way to the Huaca. At the ramps each warrior ascended to the top on the ramp that his litter had been placed next to, one with his sword in hand and the other with his hands bound behind him.

Atltepetl beckoned for Naram Sin to follow him and they moved towards the center of the Huaca’s flat top, to where the sacrifice stone was. From a ramp on the back side of the Huaca another type of procession arrived, this one in chains. Five slaves were half lead, half dragged to the top of the Huaca where they stood without hope and stared at Naram Sin with an accusatory eye.

Naram Sin stared back without guilt for he had no conscious and cared not what happened to these strangers, human or not. He watched as they dragged the first unfortunate over to the stone, forced his head down till his neck sat on the stone. One Orcish warrior pressed down on the slaves back while another pulled on his hair to keep him in position.

Atltepetl stepped up to the sacrifice and with a small steel knife, the first steel that Naram Sin had seen amongst the Orcs, he opened the veins of the neck on both sides. Quickly the blood rushed out and onto the stone, following the runnels down to fall into the clay pots waiting. The process was repeated with the other four slaves, two men, a women and a child, almost filling the two large pots.

Atltepetl then began to chant over the blood of the slaves. Naram Sin knew very little of the language of the Orcs but he could tell the ritual had something to do with purification. Atltepetl was asking the Gods to accept a final offering to purify the blood. It was then that the loser in the Orc battle stepped up, knelt down and placed his neck firmly on the stone. Atltepetl swiftly made the two cuts and the life began to drain from the Orc to mingle with the human blood in the pots. The Orc did not struggle or cry out as the human sacrifices did. Even after his life had fled and only the empty husk remained the body did not move.

Atltepetl pulled a wooden bowl from out of his robes and dipped it into the blood of one of the pots. He held the bowl of thick liquid up to the sky and cried out something that Naram Sin did not understand. He then placed the bowl to his lips and drank deeply. This was repeated with the blood from the second pot.

Atltepetl, his lips and teeth red with blood, then offered a bowl to Naram Sin. Naram Sin took the bowl and drained it. Atltepetl was very pleased and slapped the man on the back while crying out something in Orcish. The crowd below cheered and began to make their way up the ramps in orderly lines to receive their share of the sacrifice, each with his own wooden bowl.

After the ceremonies was a feast with dancing to the drums. Naram Sin was careful not to eat any of the meat that was served, knowing full well where it came from. There were enough vegetable dishes served that he did not go hungry. He also took care not to drink too much of the alcoholic beverage favored by the Orcs, a fermented mix of mare’s milk and blood. The Orcs drank and ate far into the night many falling in place, too drunk to return to their homes.

Naram Sin sat across a fire from Atltepetl each considering the other. “How do you serve Adamah,” the Orc finally asked.

“I am his Field Marshal,” Naram Sin responded simply.

Atltepetl nodded in respect, he knew that the rank of Field Marshall was the highest in the humans society. “What does Adamah expect from the Orcs?”

“Adamah expects all your warriors and in payment, you will receive all the blood you can drink.”

Atltepetl laughed at this, “It is to be the same as the last Warriors Geste, so be it. Tell Adamah that the Orcs will be ready in three weeks time.” With that, Atltepetl stood and faded into the darkness. Naram Sin stared at the fire for a long time. He noticed that the dancing drums no longer beat and had been replaced by the deep bellows of the Orcish War Drums and their message cut through the jungle night.

Posted By: Trey Jul 25, 2003 - 06:45 am

The Warrior's Geste is an excerpt from a novel I am in the middle of writing and I would love to hear some feed back from you. Feel free to be heartless and cruel or pleasant and friendly as the mood strikes you.

Many thanks.

Posted By: Rogue Jul 25, 2003 - 02:51 pm

Excellent writing, Trey!! Your descriptions were fantastic and I never had a problem following the action. Very, very good.

I only have some very minor criticism for you and nothing that can't be remedied quickly:

1) Count have many times you use the word or a derivitive of the word "walk" in the first two paragraphs. You might find a synonym or two to replace some of them.

2) This is a run-on sentence. The distance between them was no more than fifty feet it took some time for the Orc to close the distance, though Naram Sin could not tell if the reason was the advanced age of the Orc or simple the weight of his clothing. You should either break it up into two sentences or put in a conjunction between "feet" and "it".

3) You had some very minor probs, like missing words, throughout the manuscript. I won't point those out individually because I'm sure that you'll spot them and fix them when you read through it again later.

Like I said, very minor corrections. The writing is excellent and I enjoyed reading it. At first I thought that Naram Sin was going to be your protagonist, but after reading it all, I'm guessing that he's the bad guy. I guess I should have guessed that all along based on his name. LOL! Great start and I look forward to reading more!

Posted By: Trey Jul 25, 2003 - 03:34 pm

Hey Rogue,

Thanks for the comments especially the run-on catch. Those who edit me always complain that I make sentences too long. This one was real bad as I even used the word distance twice in the same sentence, a real no no. Here is the adjusted version.

"Though the distance between them was no more than fifty feet it took some time for the Orc to make the journey. Naram Sin could not tell if the reason was the advanced age of the Orc or simple the weight of his clothing."

Naram Sin was an actual King of Akkad 2291-2255BC. Akkad was near Babylon. When I saw it I knew it was a great bad guy name.

Posted By: Trey Jul 30, 2003 - 09:34 am

Anyone else want to offer an opinion?

Posted By: thegreentick Jul 30, 2003 - 10:21 am

There was one thing that bothered me in particular. In the first section for example, the word orc was used 30 times. that is waaaaaay too many. I would usggest giving them names or using other words. As soon as we know the fort is inhabited by orcs, we don't need to know that everything else in the fort is orcish too. The same goes for some other words as well. I would suggest reading through, and whenever you see a word that gets repetetive, find another way of saying it so that the word is left out or replaced.

The story shows some promise though. Keep up the good work.

Posted By: Trey Aug 17, 2003 - 04:05 pm

Very good point Green Tick, after rereading I can't agree more.

Anybody else care to offer comments?

Posted By: Aldan Aug 18, 2003 - 10:00 am

Having been an english major (I changed it to journalism), I noticed that you used "conscious" instead of "conscience".

You did a nice job of getting right into the story without having to "set the story." This is not easy to do, I have found. However, you were able to set the scene, introduce the character, and get an idea of the flavor of the world.

As I said before... Nice Job!

(p.s. I didn't include in my editorial comment the previously noted comments because they were already covered.)

Posted By: Trey Aug 22, 2003 - 09:33 am

Ooooo, I do that a lot. •••• spell checker should put know what I meant, not what I said.

Thanks for the post.

Posted By: Trey Aug 22, 2003 - 09:35 am

Cool, automated censorship. I like it!!

Posted By: jodyjuice03 Aug 31, 2003 - 12:28 pm

Dude, it was awesome! Naram Sin seems like a real bad-ass! I loved how you had the sacrificial ritual of the human slaves and Naram Sin was thinkin, "Dont look at me. I didnt come to help you." Anywho, the orc ceremonies were described really well. Just what is the Warriors Geste? A Fighting Tournament? Keep going, dude!

Posted By: Trey Oct 04, 2003 - 10:00 am

Sorry for being absent so long but work is a bear at the moment. I have been able to work on some of my novel and I have a piece that relates to the Warriors Geste. Have a read and let me know what you think.

Aurvandil stood on the bridge several paces from the entrance. The stone stretched across the gorge and disappeared into the mist. He knew that the bridged connected to another world and that world was drawing closer. He could hear the Orcish war drums beating there monotonous dirge somewhere in the mist.

The bridge was wide enough now that four could stand abreast on it and Aurvandil suspected that the enemy would soon be ready to cross. And so he waited, for Aurvandil would hold the bridge as Adam and the rest fled to the south. There they would regroup and organize a defense against the evil that would pour across this bridge.

Aurvandil knew he would not be able to hold the bridge for long but every minute saved would be of help.

From out of the mist Aurvandil saw figures start to take shape. The Orcs came three abreast and in full battle dress. Bronze armor and weapons gleamed as they emerged from the mist and into the morning sunshine. The marched in perfect unison until they were but fifty paces from Aurvandil where they stopped. There they stood at attention, regarding Aurvandil as he regarded them.

A figure worked its way to the front rank and separated from the Orcs. Naram Sin approached the large barbarian with the brightly shining sword. He could tell that the weapon was enchanted and so he kept well out of range.

“Leave this place and you may live.” There was no generosity in Naram Sin’s offer, he knew the man would not move and even if he had, the Orc’s would have killed him as soon as he turned his back. Still, it was polite to offer.

“I am Aurvandil, a son of the Aesir, and you shall not pass.”

“Well said,” replied Naram Sin, “your kind are so predictable. Kill him.” With that the Orcs surged forward. They were unable to engage barbarian, who was easily their equal in size and strength, in numbers greater than three. Aurvandil stood ready to meet the charge with the sword Hjordis in his right hand and the spear Alfarr in his left.

The first rank of Orcs rushed in thinking to overwhelm the puny human standing in the middle of the bridge. Aurvandil speared the middle Orc through the neck with Alfarr while Hjordis neatly removed the head from the Orc on the right before swinging under Alfarr to suddenly appear in the third Orcs belly. In mere seconds the first three Orcs were down and Aurvandil still stood, the grin on his face even more bestial than that of the Orcs themselves.

The next three Orcs approached a little more cautiously. The middle Orc lunged but drew back as Alfarr came forward. The flanking Orcs thought to take the warrior while he was off balance but Hjordis and its magical energy was quick to block and one Orc went down.

Now more Orcs were pressing the attacks, crowding each other and nearly falling from the bridge. Still Aurvandil fought on, Hjordis became a blur as it leapt from Orc to Orc, sometimes blocking blows but mostly sending Orcish blood across the stones. Soon the bridge was slick with blood and it ran over the sides to fall into the mist. Seeing a large clump of Orcs trying to get around him and attack from the rear, Aurvandil lunged against them with his shoulder, sending several over the edge, screaming as they fell.

How long the battle raged is unknown, to Aurvandil it seemed as though it had been hours but still he fought on. The bridge continued to widen and eventually an Orc slipped past the warrior and was able to come at him from behind. Aurvandil was hit in the left shoulder, but the Orc was instantly decapitated by Hjordis.

Aurvandil was suddenly fighting on all sides and taking as many hits as he gave out. Soon the barbarian tired and he knew his life was fast draining from his body to join the river of blood that already flowed across the bridge.

“In the name of Heimdall,” Aurvandil called upon his god and raised mighty Hjordis above his head with the point facing down and with the last of his strength he drove the sword deep into the bridge itself. Fully half the blade was buried deep into the stone and Aurvandil had fallen to one knee beside it with his hands still around the hilt. Orcs continued to strike at the barbarian but there weapons did no damage and it took them a moment to realize that the man had become one with the bridge.

Aurvandil and his weapons had merged with the bridge as though they were statues that had been carved out of the same stone. Naram Sin came forward to see what magic had befallen the barbarian. It was he that saw the cracks in the stone, cracks that were in the same places as the barbarian’s wounds from the battle. Cracks that wept blood. The blood flowed freely from these cracks and flowed to either side of the bridge before falling into the mist.

This turn of events terrified the Orcs who considered it a bad omen and none would drink the blood of the barbarian. As Naram Sin marched the army of Adamah across the bridge and onto foreign soil, each soldier passed the stone man and tread through his blood. Each of these soldiers would wake up in the morning to find his feet had been stained a dark crimson all the way up to the ankle.

Posted By: thegreentick Oct 04, 2003 - 11:18 am

Ooh. Interesting. I liked that last part. You say the word Aurvandil a LOT and there were some other small grammer errors but other than that, I liked it.

Posted By: jodyjuice03 Oct 04, 2003 - 09:24 pm

It was pretty good. Very interesting. Though I had a little trouble deciphering Naram Sin and Aurvandil from friend or foe. Other than that, the piece was great. Do I smell a war?

Posted By: Trey Oct 05, 2003 - 07:16 am

JodyJuice03,

It is probably hard to get the context when only presented with exerpts of a whole. I am working on a novel and these are just pieces of it. There will indeed be a war between Orcs and a Roman style army. The Orcs culture is being based on Inca and Mochica culture from South America. Here is a link to the historical Warrior's Geste.

http://museolarco.perucultural.org.pe/english/ceremony.doc

Posted By: Trey Oct 18, 2003 - 12:31 pm

More of the story. This is a draft of a battle between the Orcs and a Roman style legion.


Brennus looked out over the field. He was amazed at the site before him. Never had he seen so many Orcs in one place and never so organized. Three units of heavy infantry flanked by light cavalry. Brennus noted that the Orcs were arranged in an archaic pattern not seen on a battlefield in more than a thousand years.

Legatus Cicero had sent two more cohorts to strengthen Brennus’ position. There were three passes through the Dark Peaks and Brennus was at the entrance to the middle one. Legatus Cicero had merged his Cohortes in to three groups of three. Each guarded a pass. The last Cohort of the legion was to the south of Brennus’ Cohort in the small town of Pisidia.

The cavalry worried him a bit. All Brennus had was two Turmae of cavalry and as good as they were, they would not be a match for chariots.

The horse under Brennus shifted nervously, he could smell the Orcs across the field. What were they waiting for, Brennus thought to himself. He had expected the Orcs to attack at dawn but that had been three hours before and not a single movement from the creatures across the field. They stood like statues, stone sentinels watching their human adversaries.

Brennus knew that the Orcs were trying to make him and his men nervous, it was a tactic he had used himself. What really made him nervous was that they were using tactics at all. Orcs wearing armor, forming units and using battle strategy, Brennus would have never imagined it was possible.

Suddenly a deep throated rumbled began behind the Orcs lines. The war drums had started. Brennus stood his ground at the front of his men, tall and proud on his war horse. The men behind him were all seasoned veterans who had fought Orcs before and they were confident that armor and weapons may make Orcs look good, but that would not necessarily make them fight good.

The war drums reached a crescendo and fell silent, but the silence did not last. A low cry floated across the field rising as voice after voice joined it. The Orcish infantry were brandishing their weapons and screaming their war cries. Finally, thought Brennus, the standoff was over.

The front lines of the Orcish infantry leaped forward, trotting toward the awaiting Rhaetian phalanxes. The cavalry moved outward in an obvious attempt to flank Brennus’ forces. It was an old strategy that Brennus recognized. The Orcs were using the Bull’s Head tactic. The infantry was the head of the bull and the cavalry was the horns.

The Galatians had made the maneuver famous many thousands of years ago. If this was the best that the Orcs could do then things may not be as close as Brennus had thought. The Centurion nodded to the left and right, the signal to his cavalry commanders. Each saluted and moved to block the Orcish cavalry.

Brennus wished that Adam and his friends were still with him to help. The only men he had skilled in the arts were his surgeons and their knowledge was specialized. Adam’s mission was just as important as his. With luck, the entire matter could be resolved here on this battlefield.

The Rhaetian cavalry trotted into position to oppose the Orcs. The humans looked tiny on their ponies compared to the Orcs on their tremendous black warhorses. The Orcs had bred them for size and they larger than the largest draft horse Brennus had ever seen.

As the two forces of cavalry neared each other Brennus offered a prayer to Mars for their success.

* * *

Gallus Norbanus Matho held his men in tight formation. His cavalry unit had traveled all night to reach this battle in time. He and his men had little time to rest but he knew they would perform well. All were seasoned veterans who had fought in Epirus Wars with Galatia. They were not afraid of Orcs, no matter how organized they were.

Matho held up his hand with his short spear held high and with a yell lowered it like the lances of the northern kingdoms and kicked his horse into a gallop. Two hundred men did the same, each calling the name Matho as their battle cry. Many expected the Orcs to route just from the sight of the professional charge.

But the Orcs did not route, they charged to meet the oncoming human cavalry with every bit of professionalism shown by the humans and within seconds the field itself trembled with the pounding of horse’s hooves as cavalry rushed to meet cavalry.

The Orcs gleamed in their bronze armor. The spears they carried were twice the length of a human, tipped with a barbed head of bronze. As they neared, Matho saw the infantry charge forward but he was only able to give it the briefest thought and then he was among the Orcs.

The two cavalry units came together with a crash that was heard for miles in every direction. Mathos left his spear in the belly of a Orc and drew his sword. For the next few minutes everything was a bloody blur. Matho’s sword swung left and right, Orc heads flew with every swing.

Then they were through the Orcish cavalry and turning to make another pass. Mathos looked to see if the infantry had been engaged and was pleased to see that the infantry line had been halted when it meet the three phalanxes under the Brennus’ direction. Fighting was fierce but it looked as though the human defense would hold.

Then he was pulling around to the right and once again charging with his men into the Orcish cavalry. He was amazed that they had held their ranks so well. He had never seen Orcs so organized. But organized or not, their weapons and armor were bronze, a technology centuries old. It also seemed that their tactics were from the same era. The Rhaetians had been using steel for centuries now and the Bull’s Head strategy was something taught in a students first year military history class.

And so it was with great confidence that Mathos charged the Orcish cavalry, with his steel blade brandished high. Not that he would have done anything different if he had known of the mistake he was making. His path was set and fore knowledge would not have been able to change anything.

Posted By: Trey Oct 18, 2003 - 12:37 pm

Sorry for that double post, please ignore that. Maybe BMAT will do me a favor and delete that second one.

This is the second part of the battle.


Centurion Brennus paused to look around. His infantry had hit the Orcs mid field and that was where he still stood. The Orcs were fighting well but the superior armor and weapons of the Rhaetians was winning the day. Brennus allowed himself to be optimistic about the outcome of the battle.

Suddenly a huge Orc found his way through the line and appeared in front of him. With a high pitched yell and sword held high, he threw himself at Brennus. When the sword came down on his shield Brennus thought the impact would jar his teeth out. But he didn’t hesitate to thrust his sword into the chest of the surprised Orc. With a savage growl he ripped his sword free and as the Orc fell dieing at his feet he cried out a victory yell that was taken up by all the men surrounding him and they surged forward, confident that they would win the day.

* * *

Axayacatl smiled from his vantage point near the forest edge. The battle laid out before him on the field below was going just as he had planned it. The humans were fighting well and were probably now starting to believe that they would win the day. Adamah was right, these people were weak and easily fooled.

Silently he watched the human cavalry ravage the small force of Orcish cavalry that he had sacrificed to test the humans abilities. Good though they were, Axayacatl also saw that they were prideful and over confident. He would enjoy seeing them brought down personally.

“Tizoc, Maxtla,” Axayacatl called out to his lieutenants, “It is time, I will move to the left, Tizoc will take the right and Maxtla you will hold them so that they can not escape. Sound the signal.”

The two Orcs who had been standing at a respectful distance nodded at their commander and moved to follow his orders. Axayacatl walked to where his war chariot was waiting along with the one hundred others, each manned with a driver and archer. Without a word he stepped into the chariot that was little more than a wooden frame with rawhide floors. His bow was waiting for him and when he strung it, a hundred others also strung theirs. Axayacatl smiled to himself, thinking of the looks on the humans face when his forces erupted from the forest. Patiently he waited for the signal.

Maxtla stood with his shook troops and held up the globe of mist. Adamah himself had given them the globe and explained its use. Thrown into the air it would rise to a hundred feet and explode with the brilliance of the sun itself. When that happened the troops on the field would retreat, running full out back to the forest line where Maxtla waited.

Maxtla held the globe in one hand and raised to till it was at eye level. For a moment he gazed into it’s murky depths. Then with a jerk he tossed it into the air. Up and up it rose until it reached the prescribed height of one hundred feet. There it paused before igniting the battlefield in a flash of white light.

The Orcs reacted immediately, breaking off whatever battle they were involved in to run back towards their lines. To the surprised humans it appeared as though the Orcs had routed and without a thought they gave chase, filling the air with their war cries. Maxtla smiled as he watched them come.

* * *

Mathos was suspicious when the Orcs turned and fled back towards the forest and when his men moved to follow he stopped them. There was something wrong with the situation, something that he just didn’t like. The whole thing smelled like a trap, but Orcs never set traps. Then again, Orcs never rode horses and marched in lines either.

Quickly he gathered his men and took up a rear position behind the rushing infantry. The Orcs were almost to the timberline when the chariots leapt from the trees. Each chariot was drawn by two of the large black warhorses of the Orcs. On the chariot was a driver and an archer. From the left and right they swept down to flank the surprise humans.

Arrows began to fall like rain into the legionaries. They held up their shields but since they had not maintained formation while following the routed Orcs, they were unable to create the turtle’s shell as proof against the Orcs arrows.

Mathos saw at once what was about to happen. They had no defense against the chariots and the phalanxes were nothing more than a rabble now. Nearly half the legionaries fell in the first volley. Mathos reigned in his men, still outside the closing horns of the Orcish cavalry.

Mathos did not know what to do. He and his men watched in shock as the horns closed in and surrounded the legionaries, circling them with the chariots and firing arrows into the mass of humanity.

* * *

Axayacatl saw the human cavalry unit and motioned for his driver to pull away from the circling chariots. Two others saw him and did the same and the three of them charged the humans on their tiny ponies.

Axayacatl nocked an arrow and drew it back. The humans had decided to fight, good, he thought, he wouldn’t have to chase them too far. Sighting down the length of his arrow he released grinning as he watched a human knocked out of his saddle by the impact alone. Another arrow and another human down, then they were among them and Axayacatl drew his sword.

One swipe of the huge sickle sword sent a human head flying from its body and another spilt the guts of a human over the neck of his horse. Once through the human cavalry Axayacatl and the two other chariots had to turn around and before charging again. When the heavy chariot finally swung about nothing but the dead remained.

Cowards, thought Axayacatl as he watched the remnants of the human cavalry gallop away. He counted only four horses with riders though several without kept pace. Without a word he turned his chariot around and sped back to where the human infantry were being picked off by the circling chariots. Let the few escapees spread the word of what was to come.

Posted By: Trey Oct 18, 2003 - 12:38 pm

And now, the final part of the Battle.


Mathos looked back to see the Orcish commander turning back towards the massacre. He knew there was nothing left to do but run as fast as he could and bring warning of what had happened. Never would he have believed that Orcs could posses such cunning and strategy. It was indeed a cold day for the empire, for the very earth itself.

He turned his horse and galloped toward the garrison. He had just caught up to the other three men of his unit when they reached the gates.

“Don’t bother closing the gates,” he said swinging down from his horse. The men at the gate stopped and looked at the exhausted cavalry leader, covered in dirt and blood. Then they continued closing the gates as the man hurried over to the commander.

The commander had come out to meet Mathos and was shocked at the mans appearance. “What news,” he asked as he reached to help Mathos steady himself.

“Call the men,” Mathos said, “everyone still in the garrison need to be here.”

The commander gazed into Mathos eyes for a moment and then nodded his head. He called to a nearby legionnaire and had him sound the call to assemble. As they waited for the men to assemble the old commander patiently regarded the young cavalry leader. He was impressed that the man still had his wits about him though it was obvious that he had been through a harrowing experience. The three men who rode in with him were all sitting or leaning on comrades.

Once all the men were assembled Mathos looked them over. All were either older veterans or young recruits. “The battle has been lost,” Mathos called out in a loud carrying voice, “the field is held by the Orcs and soon they will hold this garrison as well.”

Some of the older men made to deny the statement or announce their willingness to fight to the death but Mathos was quick to move on. “Comrades, we can not defeat these beasts and to throw our lives away would be meaningless. Besides, we have a more important job to do than sacrifice our lives.”

This caught their attention and many cast hopeful gazes at Mathos. “We must warn the Legatus. The Orcs will be swarming through these mountains and into the populated regions to the south. We must get the people out of there and the Empire must rush to meet this deadly plague. We are the only hope for the people in the Orcs path. Each of us must scatter towards the small settlements. Many who have been warned to evacuate have choosen to remain. We must bare witness to them of the foe that comes.

“Commander, select two of your fastest men and send them straight to the Pisidia with news of what has happened here and what we are attempting. Then pick four good riders to join me and my men. We will do our best to slow the Orcs down on the road.

“Quickly now, we must set fire to the garrison, leave nothing for the Orcs to use against us.” With that Mathos hurried off to collect a new horse, some rations and a water skin, his men followed. The commander hurriedly assigned tasks to each of his men and then personally started the first fire. Each of the men moved amongst the buildings, setting fire to the wooden beams of the roof on each. Soon the garrison was fully ablaze and men streamed to the south both on foot and horseback. Luckily the way south was lightly wooded and there was plenty of cover. Mathos and his men covered the retreat and watched for the Orcs. They knew that the burning buildings would alert the Orcs as to what was happening, and they would not be happy.

* * *

Axayacatl looked to the south at the rising smoke and cursed himself for not thinking of the mischief the escaping humans might do. Not wishing to dwell on his own mistakes he turned his attention back to the man being dragged before him, heavy chains hanging from his ankles and wrists.

“You are the leader of these humans,” Axayacatl asked.

Centurion Brennus looked up at his captor, his weapons had been stripped from him but he had been allowed to retain his armor. “I am Centurion Brennus,” he said simply.

“You fought well, Centurion,” Axayacatl said with some admiration. “Your men died bravely and we honor them along with our own dead. You and the other survivors will also be honored in our most sacred ritual of all.” Axayacatl smiled at this, showing his teeth to the chained human. Brennus did not feel honored at all.

Posted By: jodyjuice03 Oct 23, 2003 - 12:29 pm

Trey, that was •••••• great!! Whenever you get that published, I have to get a copy. I am planning a war in my peice, and you just answer any description problems that I have. One thing though, where is Naram Sin? Is he apart of this war? Please post more!! If you don't mind, that is.