Rise of the Horde



The Verakhs waited patiently as the sun set over the horizon, giving way to the darkness of night. It was time to make their move. Darkness was the orc's old friend.

They made their move towards the fortress, moving in absolute silence. They moved like shadows in the night, blending perfectly into the surrounding darkness. The Verakhs were so quiet that even their breathing was barely audible.

As they drew closer to the fortress, they could see the guards walking along the walls, their torches casting flickering shadows on the ground below. The Verakhs knew they had to be careful not to be detected.

Quickly and quietly, they climbed up the wall and over the edge, landing silently on the other side. They moved towards the nearest guard, their movements almost too fast to see. Before the guard could sound the alarm, a dagger from a Verakh found its way into his throat.

The rest of the guards were taken out in the same manner, one by one, without making a sound. The Verakhs were like ghosts, slipping through the fortress unnoticed.

"Don't you find their gear odd?" Bakrah was the first to notice the gears of the guards that they had taken out. "Something doesn't feel right." he felt that something was amiss but he can't point his finger at it.

"Cautious bastards," an annoyed voice from one of the nearby towers sounded. A huge man wearing the same armor as the guards that they had taken out showed up. Right behind him were dozens of soldiers with weapons at the ready.

"It's a trap! Retreat!" Bakrah shouted. The Verakhs quickly responded to the situation and started showering their foes with bolts of iron.

Barika, who was at the forefront, took a few shots, but he was lucky that the bolts just graze him. He was the first one to react after seeing that the orcs were pointing something at them. His instinct screamed danger and so he quickly got on the ground and rolled away.

The Verakhs continued to fire their crossbows, their bolts piercing through the armor of the enemy soldiers. But they were outnumbered, and soon enough, the enemy soldiers began closing in on them.

The Verakhs quickly realized that they were trapped and their only way out was to scale down the wall. They fought fiercely, taking down as many enemies as they could. The fierceness of the Verakhs planted a seed of fear in the hearts of their enemies.

"Bakrah, grab the wounded and fall back first." Kroth shouted at his brother. "We will hold them off!"

Bakrah and the wounded Verakhs were able to get off the wall. The sound of battle continued on the walls. Kroth and the remaining Verakhs demolished anyone that came too close to them.

Although they were powerful and more durable than their foes, Kroth and the remaining Verakhs who were with him on the walls got exhausted. Their surroundings were littered with blood, body parts and corpses of the fallen.

The screams of pain of those who were wounded echoed through the night. Fear engulfed the walls.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, an iron bolt came whistling by and nailed two of the Verakhs to the walls. "Ballista..." Kroth turned his gaze towards the direction where the bolt came from. There, he saw a few ballistas line up and aimed at them.

Seeing that two of their opponents were quickly dealt with, the Ereians who were on the walls fought again with renewed vigor. Kroth and his remaining comrades fought with everything that they had.

"Captain go! We will hold them back for as long as we can," one of the Verakhs shouted at him.

"I will not leave you guys behind. We will get through this together or we'll all die here to— "his words were cut short as he was thrown out of the wall. A bolt had impaled him on the shoulder.

Kroth's eyes widened as he felt the pain shoot through his body. He landed hard on the ground, his vision temporarily blurred from the impact. He looked around and realized that he was far from the fortress walls. His Verakh companions were nowhere to be seen, probably still fighting for their lives up there.

Blood gushed from the wound, but he refused to let it slow him down. Ignoring the pain in his shoulder, Kroth managed to get up and stumble forward. He quickly made his way towards Bakrah and the wounded Verakhs, his heart heavy with the loss of his comrades.

"We have to retreat," Kroth said grimly, catching his breath. "The fortress was a trap."

Bakrah nodded in agreement, his face tense with worry. "We need to go back to our camp and inform the chief. The enemies had been waiting for us."

Upon hearing the news about the ambush, Khao'khen ordered the orcs and Drakhars to fall back to their camp, their hearts heavy with loss but still determined to win this war. The ambush at the fortress was only the beginning of their long journey towards victory.

"It looks like they won't let us take the fortress easily," Khao'khen muttered. He didn't expect that their foes to set up an ambush so quick. "Get the siege engines ready! We will rain down hell upon them."

The orcs and Drakhars worked quickly to prepare the siege engines before their enemies would launch a counter-attack. They loaded the onagers with massive rocks and boulders, ready to unleash their fury on the fortress.

Khao'khen watched as the siege machines were loaded and aimed at the fortress walls. With a signal from him, they were launched, hurtling through the air towards the enemy stronghold.

The sound of rocks hitting stone echoed through the air as the boulders destroyed parts of the wall. Those who were unlucky among the defenders got squashed by the rocks. The First Kanikarr Corps rained down rocks upon the enemy for half an hour.

The once mighty walls of the fortress were now riddled with cracks. Some parts of its battlements thoroughly destroyed.