Blood Elf Monarch

The sun shone brightly in the calm, cloudless sky, a contrast to the situation Tristan and the orcs were currently in. The hills of the east, the grassy lands of the south, and the barren land of the west, were all filled with hundreds of warriors all ready to unleash the fury of hell itself onto the Redstone Fort.

The shields they bear carry the color and symbol of each tribe.

On the eastern side, the hundreds of warriors with a symbol of a diving bird of prey on their shields. They are 'The Diving Crow' tribe one of the tribes well known for their swiftness in battle

On the western side, the warriors are all screaming and lifting their weapons, itching for battle. They kicked dust and sand everywhere, the heat of the noon sun did not affect them at all. On their shields, the symbol of a massive claw bathed in crimson red could be seen, these are 'the Red paw' tribe.

Last but not least, on the southern side, stood a crowd of warriors staring pensively at the ruined fort in the distance. Their shields bear a symbol of a deer in yellow complete with magnificent antlers, They are 'The Golden Horn' tribe.

Combining them all, there were around 2000 strong.

In front of the Golden Horn tribe, a few dozen men sitting atop horses had gathered.

It seems that the captain of the other two tribes had come to show their respect to someone in the Golden Horn tribe. A man with a double braided beard.

"Greetings to you, Jarl Sigurd. I am Akon, captain of the Diving Crow tribe, and I pledge my respect to you." Akon put his hand on his chest as a form of respect.

Another one, this time a man garbed in a magnificent red cloak, did the same thing. "I am Erik The Red, captain of the Red Paw tribe."

"Greetings to you too, brave captains." said The Jarl with the golden cloak.

The two were quite surprised to see the Jarl himself had come to join the battle. Not only did he come, he also brought almost a thousand of his personal warriors. Among them, a man clad in gold-plated armor could be seen giving instructions.

"This must be Scrall the Tall."

Indeed, as his name implied, the bald man with a tattoo across his face was about one head taller than the others. The height, combined with his muscles, bald head, and scarred face, made the man look extremely intimidating.

"The Jarl has come to claim back the tribe's honor that was lost in yesterday's defeat. I extend my gratitude to you two for the assistance."

The bald man put his hand on his chest as a form of respect, and the other two did the same. In accordance with the law, when an Jarl deigns to come to the battlefield, he will be given the honor to act as the supreme commander of the battle, and the two captains must follow his command. If they refuse to follow, they will not be allowed to join the battle.

In total, there was an army of two thousand battle ready warriors, half in yellow symbols while the rest were either blue or red. Despite their differences, they were all ready to decimate the fort.

Jarl Sigurd pulled out his extravagant sword and raised it up high in the air, allowing the blade to catch the light of the sun.

"Sound the horn!"

Tooooeeeeeettthhhhh!

The warriors moved as their discussed tactics said. Those bearing a shield marched together in a rhythm while occasionally hitting their shields together.

Thump! Thump! Thump! Thump!

Two thousand warriors, each making the same noise, should be enough to attract the attention of the orcs hiding inside. They kept on sounding their shields for a few minutes, but when nobody came out, the Jarl turned wary.

The tall warrior declared "My Lord, let me lead the warriors to destroy the fort. We shall kill anyone who dares to stand in our way!"

In a war, that would be the best decision. No matter how one looks at it, two thousand warriors are a huge force, too big for such a small fort to handle without a miracle. If they all charged at the same time, victory would be in the earl's grasp within hours.

But, Jarl Sigurd was a cautious man. He is the type who always follows the way of the battle as it should be.

"No! You will have your time Scrall" He said "Men! Bring out the archers!"

Such a simple order, but all the archers from the tribes marched to the front, followed by the warriors walking right behind them for protection should the need arise

But, Right as they arrived in the firing range, the main gate of the fort swung open.

"Halt!" The jarl ordered, and the men stopped in their tracks.

Instead of an army, only three figures marched out of the main gate. One was a huge orc that everyone could recognize as a champion orc. One was a man with white hair he seem to be an elf, and lastly, a woman who looked very familiar.

The Jarl looked at the woman in confusion.

"Scrall… Tell me, is that Astrid."

"Indeed, my lord." Scrall nodded. "She did return from yesterday defeat, but then she suddenly missing for today's fight"

The Jarl squinted and tried to get a better look at her. "Ah, I see she was captured by the enemy, then?"

"It seems to be the case, my Lord. However, I'm afraid I can't deny the worst possibility, that perhaps she has betrayed us."

The three figures walked out into the middle ground between the fort and the crowd of warriors. From the way It looks, they intended to speak.

The cautious Jarl decided to send his captain instead to approach the group, a few of the men followed him to ensure his safety.

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Written and Directed by Avans, Published by W.e.b.n.o.v.e.l,