Rise of the Horde

The Ereian army's siege on the town took the horde by surprise, and the power of their magical weapons became evident. Khao'khen, who had believed the enemy would not dare attempt such a tactic, now witnessed the formidable might of the Ereians.

The sentries on the walls, devoid of the Trot'thar's keen eyes, allowed the Ereian army to creep closer undetected. From their position, the Ereian soldiers launched their attack. Two flashes of light streaked from their ranks, silent and swift, impacting the town walls with devastating force.

A section of the wall crumbled, the sentries left reeling from the unexpected blow. The Ereian army's strategy, guided by Rakabis' confident leadership, proved effective. The magical weapon, though untested, performed beyond their expectations, and the first two magic crystals was spent well with devastating precision.

The young mages, despite their nerves, rose to the challenge, their magic guiding the weapon's power.

The ground trembled with the cacophony of war drums. The thundering rhythm reverberated through the orcish ranks, a primal call to arms that pulsed in the very marrow of their bones. The air crackled with the anticipation of blood and chaos. The sudden attack, a bolt from the blue, had shattered the orcs' complacency. They were unprepared, taken by surprise.

Yet, their instincts were sharp, honed by their harsh training and previous battles. The warbands rallied, their battle cries echoing through the dusk-shrouded streets.

"Form ranks!" roared Gur'kan, one of the two War Chiefs of the horde who was present in all the previous battles. His voice was a guttural growl, commanding respect and obedience. He gripped his sharp blade, the metal catching the last sliver of sunlight, gleaming menacingly. "Prepare for the attack!"

As Gur'kan spoke, a figure strode through the throng. An orc of slightly taller stature than others, his skin a shade of obsidian, his eyes blazing with excitement and fury. This was Dhug'mhar, the leader of the Rhakaddon Cavalry, a warrior renowned for his narcissistic comments. He stopped before Gur'kan, his gaze piercing the seasoned warrior.

"The Ereians have dared to strike!" he bellowed, his voice a rumble that sent tremors through the earth. "Let this perfect warrior lead the charge. I will slaughter them all with my perfection!" he then proceeded to flex his muscles.

Gur'kan and the orcs nearby ignored the flexing Dhug'mhar and treated him like he doesn't exist.

Meanwhile, on the Ereian side, a different kind of energy surged. Hope, tinged with a healthy dose of trepidation. The arrival of the mages and the powerful weapon, had instilled a newfound confidence in the Ereian soldiers.

The Ereian army surged forward, their battle cries echoing across the plains. The warriors' faces were grim, their eyes determined. They might have lost the previous battle against the orcs, but now, they had a weapon that promised to even the odds.

The wind howled, a mournful echo of the fallen wall. "Trot'thar!" he bellowed, his voice hoarse with rage, "Go to the breach. Find out what manner of weapon wrought this destruction. We must know if it was a thing of man or something...else."

Trot'thar, his face a mask of grim determination, didn't need to be told twice. He sprinted towards the jagged edge of the wall, his heart pounding in his chest. The sheer scale of the destruction was overwhelming. It was as if a giant hand had ripped through the stone, leaving gaping wounds that stretched for a hundred paces.

Trot'thar found himself staring at the gaping hole, a yawning void filled with the eerie whisper of the wind. He saw no traces of a traditional siege weapon, no battering rams, no catapults. The destruction was too precise, too clean. It was as if the wall had been cleaved by an unseen blade, a blade of pure, unyielding energy.

He raced back to Khao'khen, his mind racing. He stumbled to his knees before the chieftain, gasping for breath. "Chieftain... there is no sign of a conventional weapon. The wall... it was as if...

it was sliced apart by a blade of light."

Trot'thar then proceeded to report what he had seen at the rear of the enemy army, "There is something at the rear of the enemy army that I haven't seen before. It is metallic tube by appearance as it gleamed in the sunlight. There are two of those things and a group of humans who seems to be mages are directing it."

Khao'khen's brow furrowed. He turned to Adhalia and Faynah, "Adhalia, Faynah, have you ever heard of such a weapon?"

Adhalia and Faynah exchanged a glance, their eyes widening with a mixture of awe and concern. "Chieftain, I knew of such weapons," Adhalia spoke, her voice steady despite the unnerving revelation. "They are called 'cannons', 'magic cannons' to be exact, and they harness the power of explosive magic.

It is said that the previous king had four of them, mounted on the walls of the capital, one in each direction. The mages you speak of, they must be controlling and guiding the cannons' destructive force."

Khao'khen's gaze darkened, his mind in distraught. "This changes everything. We must adapt our strategies and find a way to counter their new weapons."

He didn't expect that the enemy army would such a weapon upon the battlefield.

This was an oversight on the side of Adhalia, who didn't expect that those magic canons would be removed from the walls of the capital, and be sent out on the battlefield. She had planned to inform Khao'khen about them when they reach the capital.

Khao'khen's mind raced as he processed this new information. "We must act quickly," he said, his voice steady despite the urgency of the situation. "Send word to find mages, I need someone to scry and discover all they can about these 'cannons'. Their range, their limitations, and any vulnerabilities they may have. Trot'thar, gather our best scouts.

We need to know the exact location and movement of these weapons. The enemy have caught us off guard, but we will not be defeated so easily."

As the scouts and mages set to their tasks, Khao'khen's thoughts turned to the upcoming battle. He knew that the horde's strength lay in their disciplined formations and their fierce hand-to-hand combat skills. But how could they hope to counter such devastating long-range weaponry? The answer eluded him, but he was determined to find a solution.

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting an orange hue over the plains. The air grew colder, and a chill ran down Khao'khen's spine. He knew that this battle would be unlike any other they had faced. The Ereians had brought a new level of technology and magic to the field, and it was up to him to ensure that the horde adapted and prevailed.

The scouts and the mages scurried to execute Khao'khen's orders, their sense of urgency heightened by the knowledge that their survival depended on their ability to adapt to this new threat. The horizon swallowed the last rays of sunlight, casting an ominous shadow over the plains.

Khao'khen's mind, usually as sharp as a warrior's blade, was clouded with uncertainty. He knew that the horde's prowess in hand-to-hand combat and their disciplined tactics might not be enough to counter the Ereians' magical cannons.

A chill wind whispered across the battlefield, carrying with it the weight of their daunting task. Khao'khen's gaze fell upon the ruins of the wall, a stark reminder of the power they faced. He wondered if their scouts and mages would uncover the secrets of these weapons in time. The Ereians, emboldened by their initial success, were sure to strike again, and the horde needed to be ready.

The sun, a fiery orb sinking towards the horizon, cast long, jagged shadows across the encampment. Within the towering walls of the stronghold, the horde was restless, their war cries hushed. The air crackled with suppressed energy, a potent mix of anticipation and frustration. Khao'khen, their chieftain, stood tall, his weathered face grim.

He surveyed his warriors, their eyes burning with a hunger for battle.

"The enemy possesses a weapon of immense power," Khao'khen announced, his voice booming across the gathering. "They are called magic canons, and it can unleash destruction upon our ranks," he pointed towards the fallen portion of the walls.

A murmur of apprehension rippled through the crowd. The warriors, accustomed to the thrill of close combat, felt a sense of unease. Their leader, renowned for his courage and strategic acumen, had never spoken of retreat.

"We will not engage them head-on," Khao'khen continued, his voice unwavering. "We will wait. We will outlast them. We will use the walls to our advantage."

A seasoned warrior, his face creased with battle scars, stepped forward, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "Chieftain, what if they attack within the walls? How can we defend against their magic canons'?"

Khao'khen fixed his gaze on the warrior, his eyes unwavering. "Then we will gladly drive them out if they dare to climb the walls. I doubt that they would fire upon the walls if their soldiers are on it."

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