As you get closer to him, you arc your sword over your head, aiming for his neck.  The Imperial soldier slams it away with the flat of his blade and, mid-push, brings his blade back down.  The sword cuts through your thick leather armor, biting into your shoulder.

You wince and grunt as he pulls his sword, the both of you passing each other and turning in preparation to charge again.  Behind him, you see that the orcs seem to have pushed the Imperial horsemen back a bit, and the orcs on the hill have wounded several archers in each column.

The battle is going well enough for the orcs.

As you charge the Imperial knight again, you consider your next move.
> You run him through
The horses charge forward, the Imperial knight holds his sword out in front of him, ready for whatever may come next.  You arc your sword around your head, and you see his arm flex to deflect the strike.

As you near striking range, you whip the sword around counter clockwise, pulling your elbow back and plunging forward.  The knight manages to knock your sword aside, flicking his wrist and stabbing the tip of his blade into your chest.  The momentum causes the tip of the blade to just come out through your back.

Pain shoots through your body and you gasp.  The force of the sword pushing into you causes you to fall back, but you manage to catch onto your horse, stopping you from falling off.  You clutch the wound as the horses circle back around.

Looking back you can see the Imperials are starting to overwhelm the orcs.  How can this be?  There are far more orcs than those human scum.

White hot pain shoots through your chest again, and you clutch the wound.  Blood sticks to your hand as you pull it away.

"Damn it," you say.

The Imperial knight twirls his sword, daring you to come at him again.  Such arrogance.

You decide to oblige him, charging forward.  He prepares his sword, expecting you to strike again.

This time you pull up your axe, but hold it down behind the horse.  You strike with the sword, and he predictably parries it.  This time you slam your axe blade into his side, and as you circle back around you smirk as you see that…..

There's no blood?

You see the spot on his side where you swung the axe, but the robe is just ripped, the silver coat gleaming in the sunlight.

Is this some kind of magic coat? Or maybe it is some kind of metal. You've never seen anyone wear metal to avoid battle injuries.  You've also never actually seen a human before either.

As the knight prepares to charge again, your body begins to feel weak.  You're losing blood fast, so you are going to have to finish this or he will.  The knight charges towards you…

> You throw your axe at the Knight (W)
You sit there panting, and for a moment you see that the orcs on the hill have finally come down, and helped turn the fight around for the orcs.

The soldier readies his sword, and you lift your axe, hefting it forward.

It flies, whipping through the air.  The blade buries into the horses forehead, it lets out a pained neigh and drops forward.  The knight flies forward and off the horse, crying out as he does.

You hear a crunch as he hits the ground, and he rolls to a stop.  Trotting forward, you prepare your sword to finish him.

The knight grunts and feebly tries to stand up, but one of his arms is horribly bent.  He loses his balance and falls before he can get up.

You feel dizzy as you raise your sword, pain shooting through your arm.

Before you can strike him down, you hear a loud cry emanating out from behind you.

> You for the Emperor! (W)
You turn your horse, clutching your wounds.  From out of the trees, an enormous group of humans comes rushing out, screaming and yelling.  You notice they are quite different from the knights. While some of them have the silver coats, most of them just have some kind of padding and the Imperial soldier robes.  Their boots, gloves, and helmets don’t look anywhere near as nice as the knights'.

These must be the lowly soldiers of the Empire, but there sure are a lot of them.  Wincing, you turn as you see the lawless orcs bring up a cry, charging towards the humans.  You watch as your comrades also charge the humans, so you decide you should as well.

Galloping forward, you prepare your axe.  A battle of strength versus numbers, you decide that Gigalak will decide the winner today.

You trample a couple of humans, their cries ringing out.  The axe bites into another, and as he dies his sword nicks your arm.  You slash, hack, batter, and even punch one.  A dying soldier cries out, digging his dagger into your side.  You gasp and slam your axe handle into his eye, a squishing sound resounds as blood squirts out and onto your leg.  He lets out a blood-curdling scream as he flails, soon going limp and falling to the ground.

With the dagger still in your side, you circle back, needing to fight through a few more soldiers to do so.  Panting, you see that the battle is being lost for the orcs, but some still fight on, despite their injuries and overwhelming odds.

Chief Greusim charges into the middle of it, laying waste to soldier after soldier.  His mighty club denting helmets and cracking skulls, breaking arms and busting jaws.

You watch as he cries out, someone plunging their sword into his side.  Gasping, you ride forward to save him.  But there are too many soldiers to fight through, and before you can reach him the grunts pull Greusim from his horse, stabbing, slashing, punching, and beating.  You see his own club being raised to be used against him.

All the other orcs in your tribe watch as the chief goes down, along with the other orcs he had around him.

There's just too many, you'll never fight through them all.

"Fall back! Fall back!" some orc cries out.

As you all do so, the lawless orcs seem shocked as to why.  Before they can get away, the Imperial troops have swept them up and begin to butcher most of them.  Few escape, and you even swing one onto your horse as you ride away.  You trample and hack several Imperial soldiers on your way out.

You all ride into the forest, lucky to have escaped death on this day.  The same cannot be said for many others.

You exchange glances with Rolomag, who nods and pokes his chin to the valley.  Although you don't like the idea, you all will have to go there to recover and make plans….
> You new Problems
You sit there by the fire.  Rolomag sits across from you, taking  a swig from a flask of orcish whiskey before handing it to you.  You gladly accept, the bitter substance burning your throat as it goes down.

The camp is silent except for the tribeless orcs squabbling over something.

"We're gonna have to go back," Rolomag says.

"What? Back where?" you ask.

"The village.  We need more orcs.  We have to get these Imperials out of our lands."

"I don't think it's going to work so well," you say, "there's so many of them."

"What's wrong with you?" Rolomag says, "I used to hear stories about you from returning orcs in our village."

"That was years ago.  This is now.  Greusim was right.  We can't fight them."

"Yeah, well those animals tore him apart.  It's our job to get vengeance."

You sit and stare into the fire, realizing the Imperials are probably already marching further into Orcin.  Grunting as you stand, you walk over to the wild group of lawless orcs.

"Who of you is your leader?" you ask.

"I am!" one orc cries as he stands.

"No, I am!" another yells.

They both start brawling, savagely punching and wrestling each other.  You shake your head and look to the rest.  A tall orc stands, one tooth protruding up from his underbite, the other chipped, warpaint in the shape of a red handprint on his face.  His raven black hair runs wild along his head, the sides shaved as is popular with warring orcs.

"I am Grolik," he says, "leader of the Red Handed orcs band."

You extend your hand and shake his in the traditional orc handshake.

"I am grateful for your assistance," Grolik says. "We probably wouldn't have made it out of there."

"We orcs need to stick together," you say, "but I wonder.  How did this all start?"

Grolik looks to the side and shuffles his feet.

"We….uhh, we thought they were invading and tried to stop them."

You squint your eyes at him.

"You weren't raiding Imperial villages on their side of the border?" you ask.

"Well…uh….no?" he says.

"You realize you've put Orcin in jeopardy," you say.

"We can probably work something out with the Empire," Grolik says. "Hell, they probably think they've won."

"I have half a mind to turn you over to them," you say, "but I just want to get this all settled, and go back home."

Grolik laughs hard at this.

"What? Have you gotten soft?" he asks, "what kind of orc are you?"

Before he can react, your slam your fist into his face, bowling him over.  Some Red Hands grab their nearest weapons and stand up.  Several of your tribesmen prepare for a fight as well.

"No, no.  It's alright," Grolik says. "Don't worry about him.  He's just a fool."

Grolik snarls as he stands.

"But if you ever do that again," he says, "it won't end well for you."

You just watch as he goes back to his spot next to the fire and guzzles some alcohol.

Grunting, you walk back over to Rolomag.

"Just as I thought," you say.  "We shouldn't even be involved.  They started this mess."

Rolomag's eyes widen for a moment before going back to staring sleepily at the fire.

"We still lost good friends there," he says. "We need to right this."

The next day, Dekard and three other orcs ride back to the village to get some help.  You're sure some of the orcs will be happy to have some fighting to do.  Although you can't be sure where this will lead, you will be happy to keep the Imperials away.

You sit back, closing your eyes to rest.
> Two Months Later...
The wind plays along your hair, the warm morning sunshine gracing your face.  The rocky outcrop you lay upon offering you a complete view of the Imperial camp ahead.

The past two months had been spent watching and tracking the Imperials.  Their move into Orcin has been slow, and, other than a few minor fights with other random lawless bands, they have not done much.

You watch soldiers milling about, their purple and black standards dotting the camp.  Stern officers watch younger soldiers and recruits train, practice, and do drills.  Oddly, it looks much like an orcish war band preparing for battle.  Only, the humans have a lot more wagons and crates of supplies than orcs, who mostly live off the land as they go.

The camp of soldiers still outnumbers your group, even with back up from the camp and some more tribeless orcs rallying to the Red Handed cause.  Grolik's band are even more impatient and bloodthirsty than regular orcs.

Grolik sits behind you, mumbling something as he sharpens his axe blade.  His plan is just to march in and start slaughtering people, but you know you'll only be overwhelmed and killed.  These soldiers are too numerous and too skilled for those tactics.

You're going to have to go with another plan, somewhat against your nature, but maybe it'll help win this fight.

Almost on cue, a column of soldiers marches onto the road running through the camp.  They all have their helmets and silver coats, as well as varying degree of light weapons.

"Humans sure do dress strangely for battle," you say.

Leading the column is a knight on a horse, looking very similar to the knights you first encountered.

You signal the orcs around you, slowly making your way down the rocky hill.

"Come on," Grolik complains. "Let's charge 'em!"

"No, we must wait."

Putting your finger to your lips, you follow the Imperials as they move through the forest.  They move quite slowly, and some don't really seem to even be paying attention.
> You circle
Your orcs faithfully carry out your plan, most moving ahead and some around the Imperial soldiers, until you have created a c-shape around them.

Every orc has the same tools for fighting these humans.  As they march forward, you prepare to throw one of your spears.  Lifting it, you watch as the knight stops and looks to his right.  As you chuck the spear, he looks ahead.  Somehow he manages to duck and slip off the horse, hitting the ground and rolling before the spear can hit him.

You watch as it harmlessly bounces off a soldiers helmet.  Once an eerie silence, the area now erupts with men and orcs shouting, as orcs fire arrows relentlessly at the soldiers.  As you notch an arrow, the knight lays down behind his fallen horse.

You observe the arrows and most spears bouncing off the silver coats they wear.  Although some are killed when they are hit in spots the coat doesn't cover, such as arms, legs, and their faces.  You are surprised to see one spear actually pierce the armor, but it can't have gone too deep as the soldier is still standing.

The soldiers hide behind their shields and armor, most of the projectiles becoming useless.  The orcs get sick of all this shooting and decide to charge the Imperials.  As you draw your axe and run forth, you see the Imperials making a line of shields with other Imperials standing between them and firing arrows through.

The orcs are pierced by arrows as their axes and swords bounce uselessly off the shields.  Getting closer, you watch an Imperial bash an orc with his shield before slicing through his padded leather shirt with his sword.

You rush in, throwing your shoulder into one of them.  The human doesn't quite fall, but you ram your axe head's spike into his face.  He cries out in pain and falls, and you barely have time to react before other soldiers close the gap.  You leap back as three blades are swung and jabbed at you.
> You break
While some Imperials have been killed, they are quickly whittling down your numbers.  To your left, you see the knight caught out of the line, trying to rally his soldiers.  You watch as an orc chops at his head with an axe, but it bounces off his helmet.  The knight rams his sword blade through the orc's armpit, pushing the dying orc off.

Another orc slashes, the blade harmlessly skidding across the helmet.  Before the orc is cut down, he slams the flat of the axe on the soldier's helm, slightly denting it.

You look to the Imperial with the protruding spear from his silver coat, and the knights dented helmet.  You get an idea…
> You smash a rock on the knight
You run up to the knight, parrying a jab, tackling him and throwing his sword to the ground.  The knight rolls to the side, slamming his fist into your stomach as he comes up to a crouch.  It barely affects you, but he reaches his sword.

As he grabs it, he stumbles and, seeing your moment, you grab a large rock.  The knight twirls around, crying out and trying to take your head.  You duck, the blade swooshing over your head.  With a mighty roar, you stand, slamming the rock onto his helmet.

The sound of metal crashing attacks your ears.  The Empire's knight crumples to the ground, a large dent in his helm.  You kneel down, slamming the rock into his helmet again and again.  The helmet crushing inward unnaturally and the man's body spasming as blood seeps out from under his helmet.
> You retreat
The orcs give a cry as the knight dies, and the Imperials try to execute a controlled retreat.  Some orcs mimic you in using force to crush the helmets and pierce the silver coats.  You notice though, that most of the weapons used seem heavily damaged after.

Picking up an Imperial shield, you catch up to some unfortunate and ram the shield into his helmet, denting it.  You slam the point of the shield into his face until it is a pink, bloody, unrecognizable mass of flesh.

At this point, the soldiers are in full flight, attempting to reach the safety of the camp.  It is not too much longer before all of the Imperials lay butchered on the ground.

Panting and covered in sweat and blood, you lean against a tree.  You watch as the orcs loot the corpses, taking Imperial weapons.

Curious, you walk over to one of the bodies, removing his silver coat.  It clanks together as you move it about and is heavier than you thought.  Peering closely, it appears as though it is made up of many little rings of metal.  You fold it up and stash it inside an Imperial soldiers satchel, which you also take.

You assist the orcs with collecting the dead and wounded, intent on better preparing for your next encounter...
> Two Years Later...
The past two years have been successful in repelling the Empire.  While you wish it didn't have to come to this, you know that these humans can't freely move their army around Orcin without consequence.

Shortly after ambushing that patrol two years ago, you led the orcs into a nighttime raid on the camp.  Your warriors cut throats, burned tents and supplies, and left few survivors.  Since then, the human generals have sent more and more troops to try to contain the situation.

Once this had happened, you enlisted the help of a couple of the other surrounding orc tribes.  Using your newfound guerilla tactics, you managed to keep the skirmishes to the forests at the borders of Orcin.

In the meantime, your fellows had created some advancements to cracking the metal shells of the Imperials.  Heavy tipped arrows and spears for piercing the chainmail armor, as you have since learned was the name for their "silver coats".  You had also taken the heavy wooden clubs and trimmed down the large wooden portion for a couple metal rings wrapped around the tip.  This would make them easier to swing, and it is easier to dent Imperial helmets, as well as bruise and break limbs.

Also, having taken some of the chainmail, you and the others have learned how to make your own in recent months.  Although you were not able to make steel, you used iron to make chain rings and studs woven into your leather padded clothing.

This had decreased the chances of death for your orcs, forcing the Imperials to get more creative with their killing methods as you have had to.  For a while, you had the upper hand until they developed heavier weapons that could easily pierce mail.

Neither the orc tribes nor the Imperials have made any attempts at establishing peace or any sort of treaty.  It just seems as though these fights have become normal for both sides by now, although the council has sent you several messages asking to make a treaty.  You always send the messenger back, telling them to come do it if they are worried about it.  It isn't that you do not want peace, but the Imperials have become pretty skittish at the sight of orcs, each side shoots first and asks questions later.
> You interruption
Two loud voices shout just outside of your tent.  Pushing the flaps aside you step out and are not surprised to see that Rolomag and Grolik are arguing again.  While Grolik was a problem for a while, he seemed to warm up after you unknowingly saved his cousin's life a few months ago.

You watch as the two bicker like some old married couple.

"Grolik, you're a fool if you think we can push into Imperial territory," Rolomag shouts.

"My orcs haven't looted anything in weeks. We're getting restless."

"See, I can agree on invading soldier camps," Rolomag replies, "but actually going into their home villages and towns is asking for more than we can handle."

"It's only a matter of time before they start attacking ours," Grolik says. "Once they realize we've been trading with the surrounding neutral villages, they'll start wiping them out.  And there are innocent people in those villages too."

"Why do you care?  You're worried the Empire is going to steal your victims?"

"Of course I care, they're fellow orcs damn it!  Besides, we only raid fellow bands of 'tribeless orcs', like ourselves."

"So you've never raided a village?"

"Well….maybe we've stolen crops and cattle here and there.  But that's survival, and we usually don't murder anyone.  Besides, we wouldn't want to bring the wrath of the council on us."

"But you have no problem stirring up the Empire?" Rolomag asks.

"It was the same thing with them.  We stole crops and cattle when we needed.  I thought if anything they would just bolster their defenses, not send a damn legion in here."

Grolik seems to realize he has stepped too close to Rolomag and sighs as he takes a step back.

"Besides," he says, "they're not completely innocent.  They've made dozens of trespasses in years past."

You stand and watch, a scowl on your face.  They both are right to some degree.  It seems that you can either escalate the conflict or remain in this little stalemate.

You have also been made aware that the goblins living in the Southwest of Orcin, who have always been rivals with the lawless, have become bolder.  After years of constant skirmishing with the lawless orc bands, the goblins have gotten more organized, made better equipment, and even have moved further into Orcin.

This is an issue for everyone as the lawless orcish tribes and the goblins have usually kept too many dwarves, humans, and more adventurous ogres and other invasive creatures from coming too far in from there.  While you are sure there are smaller pockets of goblins and other creatures in the orc lands, these goblins have only increased in number.

Now, with the lawless focused on the Mannate Empire, and the goblins moving away from the Southwestern border, you've heard of dwarves making a steady advance into the lands.  They mostly just mine for raw materials, the only military presence being small teams to protect the miners.  You are aware that many of the dwarves have a partnership with the Empire, and, at any moment, they could push into the hills and plains and into the heart of Orcin.
> You issues at hand
Stopping your thoughts, you decide to intervene before Rolomag and Grolik come to blows.

"Enough," you say. "We will figure all of this out."

It seems that you have become the unofficial chief of your tribe since Greusim's doom, and even his son Galik hasn't tried to challenge this.  It has its benefits, but also its own headaches.

"Well, Nolazir," Rolomag says, "what will it be?"

"Neither for now," you say.  "We need to amass strength before we do anything else.  We can probably keep them in this stalemate for a while."

"You need to act now," Grolik says. "I think you've become complacent, and that never ends well in these situations."

"Grolik," you say, "while we have many orcs, I don't think we have enough to keep this up for too much longer.  All the humans need to do is galvanize a couple of legions, and they could wipe these mountains with our corpses."

You grunt and spread your arms out for a moment.

"We can't risk escalating right now," you say, "but we also need to keep up the appearance of being a larger force, and we know this won't keep up for long."

You gesture for the two to enter your tent, where you have a large map of Orcin pinned to a wooden table.

"See here?"  You point on the map. "The goblins started out here.  The lawless orcs drove them way out over here."

Grolik grunts in surprise, apparently unaware that they had covered so much ground.

"We need to either wipe them out," you say, "or make a treaty, which I like better."

"What?" Grolik says.  "They're filth, scavengers, and cowards."

"They're organized," you say, "and like you and your lawless tribes, they have kept the dwarves away.  If we can make a treaty between them and the lawless tribes, you all should be able to live close enough, back where they originally were."

You point back to where the goblins originally lived.

"Once we have made peace with them," you say, "your orcs can enjoy whatever spoils they take from the Imperials.  We'll even help you establish farms and trade with the rest of the orcs."

"Why would we want that?" Grolik asks.

"No more hungry winters.  Besides, don't think I don't know what you all do for food when you're desperate."

Grolik's eyes dart to the ground, his face wincing for a brief moment.

"What are you talking about?" he says, not so much asking.

"You know damn well.  It's against Gigalak."

"It was just survival…" Grolik says.

"Yeah, well we're not animals… or wendigos."

There is a silence as Grolik shifts uncomfortably.  Rolomag just pretends he is not paying attention as he studies the map.

"Now," you say, "while I deal with the goblins, can you gather some of the lawless tribes?"

Grolik still looks ashamed, but he nods.

"If I promise them some loot, food, and some autonomy… then yeah, I can."

"Good, now can you and your best go handle that?"

Grolik nods and walks out of the tent.  After a few moments, Rolomag speaks.

"Damn," he says, "didn't know things were that desperate for them.  Now I guess I can see why they loot."

"Yeah, well we will put an end to that soon enough."

You sigh and grab a pack of supplies.

"Rolomag, stay here and watch over the camp," you say.

"Where are you going?" he asks.

"I'm taking a group, we're going to go take care of the goblins, one way or another."

With this you exit the tent, gathering some trusted orcs for the trip.
> One Month Later...
The last several weeks have yielded little results.  After reaching the deserted camp of the goblins, you can only assume they had moved deeper into Orcin.  At this point, you're wondering if going total war on them wouldn't be a bad idea.

While orcs do not always completely waste their enemies, conflict can get messy and shit happens.  This might become one of those instances if the goblins keep pissing you off.

As you travel deeper into the hills, the light drizzle overhead turns into a heavy pelting.  At first, you see one, then two dim fires in the distance.  The fields and hills slowly turning to marsh and then swamp as the trees in the outskirts give heed to many mysteries and dangers.

Since the beginning, the orcs have always stayed well enough away from the swamps of their own homeland.  Except for some light traveling on the outskirts, there has always been some common knowledge that something terrifying resides deep within.  It would seem that, perhaps, the goblins welcome the unknown fear that the swamplands bring.

You look to your orcs, signaling them to travel through the swamps and towards what might be the goblin's camp.  At first, you just see some lamps tacked onto the trees, but soon you see the campfires ahead.

After some time, you finally reach the camp.  It consists of wooden huts, bridges, and walkways to evade the murky waters.  Several goblins sound a horn as they see you, all preparing to defend themselves.  You raise your hands, signaling you are not a threat.

The goblins seem to be reluctant until one comes forward.

"Hey, stop!" it cries. "I recognize you… aren't you the orc chieftain?"

"Yes." you say.  "Where is your chief?"

The goblins all look at each other, seemingly whispering amongst themselves.  You slowly reach down to your side, clutching your axe.  After what seems like a long time, one of the goblins finally steps down and around to the closest walkway.

This one seems to be wearing some sort of fur shawl, the skulls of various animals and other races adorning his belt.  What appears to be a large snake tooth hangs from a necklace on his neck.  His black hair is tied up into a messy knot which seems common for goblin shamans.

"Chief Gru'zikular is not taking guests right now," the goblin says as he starts to turn around.

"Yeah, well you're encroaching on our territory," you say.  "I'm here to ask you to go back to where you came from."

The goblin turns, his yellow eyes appear to be gleaming.  A sick smile spreads across his face.

You frown, knowing that something isn't right about this particular goblin.  This one seems different from the rest.

"What? Go back to those hellholes you call caves?" he asks.

"I don't care if you go into the caves or not.  The dwarves are creeping into that area, as well as other things.  You used to keep them away, and your presence would probably slowly force them to back off."

The goblin just stares at you.

"If you go back, it can be beneficial for all of us," you continue.  "I can even get the tribeless orcs to leave you all alone.  You can build proper houses such as the ones you have here."

"You see, orc," the goblin says, "these swamps had always been the homes of the goblin people.  We were never supposed to be cave dwellers as everyone seems to think."

The goblin raises his hand as the other goblins start to join in.  They immediately go silent.

"I demand to see your leader," you say.  "I will not listen to this foolishness."

The strange look on the goblin's face intensifies.  His teeth showing as his sick smile widens.

"As you have asked, so shall it be," he says.  "Just East, further in, you can find our leader."

The goblin gestures, showing the way.

"I advise you though, green one, the Master's work is best not interfered with."

You furrow your brow, wondering at the meaning.  You look at the whole group of goblins, who, compared to this one, seem like they are more even-minded.

Also, you seem pretty sure that this emissary for their chief may have been threatening you all.  But he is just a goblin, you could crush him if needed.

"Tell me, who are you?" you ask.

"I am the Shaman, Rozibu," he says, "speaker for Gru'zikular and humble servant of the Master."

You squint at him.  Perhaps it would be best to return and have the tribeless bands inhabit the lands the goblins used to live in.  It would accomplish a dual purpose; each group gets their own respective territory and stops fighting, and it is not like the goblins are using any land that you are not.  Also, the tribeless orcs could probably keep the dwarves out.

As you stare at the forest beyond, you get a feeling, not of immediate danger from the goblins standing before you, but a dark foreboding.

You and the goblin stare each other down, the whole time you think about what you should do.

[Add link for Reign of Amortia]
> You turn Back
Sensing that continuing on this mission would be foolish, you begin to leave.

"I don't think that will be necessary," you say as you nod your head.

Your orcs protest, but you hold up a hand to silence them.  The goblin just smirks and bids you farewell.

A sense of relief sweeps over you as the horse trots out of the marsh.  There was something weird going on there, and you don't want to know what it was.  You have more important things to worry about right now.

You hear a couple of the other orcs express their relief in getting out of there as well.  Soaking up all the little conversation, you are content to sit quietly and enjoy the trip back to your camp.

A couple weeks later, you have arrived, many orcs welcome you and your group back.  The journey back was much shorter, as you didn't have to spend any time searching; like you needed to do on the way to the goblin camp.

On the other side of the camp, there appears to be a large addition, namely dozens and dozens of tents and large groups of orcs.  You can tell from their tattoos, paints, clothing, and general demeanor that these are the lawless tribes that Grolik had gathered in the last month or so.

Going around the camp, you gather Rolomag, Grolik, Galik, Dekard, and a few other orcs.  Bringing them into the tent, you start to go through plans for fighting the Empire…
> One Year Later
Over the course of the last year, things have been going smoothly for you and your army.  Some of the lawless orcs have begun to push the dwarves out of Orcin.  As per your instructions, they haven't used methods that were too over the top.  You don't want to attract the might of the dwarven armies, and other than a few small skirmishes there has not been a whole lot of trouble for them.

The Imperial patrols and camps have increased, but they have not taken any ground.  In fact, they lost some serious distance a few months ago.  You led a large assault on a couple of the camps, then about a week later some of your scouts were overrun by a surprise Imperial patrol.  Among them was one of your best scouts, an orc named Ruzmar.  In retaliation for the dead scouts, you staged another large attack.

Unlike the last one, you managed to recover a lot of loot and supplies, while killing multiple Imperial soldiers.

In the meantime, you have not heard from the goblins.  They have not moved any further into Orcin, and they haven't moved back to the hills and plains.  There were reports of some minor earthquakes in the area, but nothing after that.

Several of the Council members visited your camp recently as well.  Some congratulated you, and others scorned and chastised you for fighting the Mannate Empire so doggedly.  In the last couple of months, the Council got the Empire to agree to stop the fighting.  While you didn't agree with this, you have respected the armistice.  From what your messenger has told you, the Council and Imperial ambassadors are at a stalemate in terms of negotiating a treaty.

You have just taken this time to better arm and train your orcs, for when the Empire continues the fight, you will be ready.  The peace has allowed many of the orcs to take an extended leave to return to their homes though.  Many have farms, cattle, families, and other important endeavors to watch over.  So until it is time to recall your orcs, a skeleton crew patrols the mountains and borderlands.
> You home Again
After a long day of taking care of household duties, you sit and watch your children.  Grovlar and Vokra have gotten big.  It seems they do so considerably every time you have taken a trip back during these last three years.  It has been a whole nine years since you finished fighting the Wister Elves, and since the last time you saw Valek.

While you do take care of home and village life, messengers bring regular reports to you on the state of the conflict with the Empire.  Not much has changed in the last few days, of course.  You are actually content with it being so, and, who knows, maybe the Council will come to an agreement with the Empire.

Gilikia, your wife, comes outside.  She kisses you before looking at the children at play.  Little Lagrik stumbles around, trying to keep up with the two older kids.

"When is this all going to end?" she asks.  "You know we need you here, Nolazir."

"I am doing what needs to be done," you say.  "When it is all over, I will return home, and I will stay here."

"They won't be small forever.  Don't you want to watch them grow up?  And what if you…."

She trails off, not able to say the obvious concern on her mind.  You turn, taking her hand in yours.

"I've been through too much for too long to let anyone or anything take you all away from me." You say as you stand up and embrace her, and, stepping back, you continue to hold her hands.

"I have been blessed with you, my beautiful wife, and these healthy, strong children," you say.  "If it weren't for you all those years ago… well, you pretty much saved me from what I would have become."

You step a little bit closer.

"If Gigalak didn't intend for us to be together," you say, "he would have never let me off those muddy fields in the Elven kingdom, but he did, and I am grateful to have you all.  I know he will return me to you every time."

"Well…how do you know?" she asks.

"Because, while I may be off fighting in the mountains and off finding the Imperials in the forests... my heart is here, with you all, and an orc always returns to where his heart is."

She leans into you, squeezing with all her might.

"I love you," she says.  "I know you'll always return to me."

You smile and hold her, as you turn and watch the children playing… and once in a while eating an insect on the ground…
> Six Months Pass
The last few months find you and your army in the forests by the border.  Reports had come of a legion of Imperials slowly making their way to the border.  In the meantime, you have amassed assistance from a few more orc tribes.  All the while, the Imperials wait, and your forces grow stronger and stronger.

You wait, while the rain pelts your face.  Every orc is silent as the ground starts to become muddy at the intensity of the precipitation.

You signal the orcs to move forward, a slow trod through the mud.  The Imperials are moving dozens of soldiers through, but if all goes to plan they'll never make it to the staging ground.  By the time you reach them, you are hoping their supply wagons will be stuck in the mud, and their horses antsy at every trick and sound of the forests.

When the time is right, you will strike, and make them pay.  If the Imperials seek to break their treaty, you will show them the consequences.  You all have your padded leather gambesons over your chainmail, extra leather straps tied around to reduce some of the clinking the chain tends to make.

Riding forward, you catch Grolik's eye, who nods at you.  Rolomag as well, who winks and pats his heart with his palm in a sign of respect.

Coming up to a ridge, you signal your forces to stop.  Creeping low through the foliage, you see the Imperial columns.  As suspected, their wagons seem to mostly be stuck in the mud.  At your signal, your archers start their painstaking crawl over to the ridgeline.

The other third, slowly bring their horses onto both sides of the columns, preparing their charge.  On the other side across from you, some of the lawless orcs should be preparing their attack on the Mannate soldiers.  The cavalry orcs should still be fighting their way through by the time the archers are done, and when that happens they will slide down the slope.  You don't want to run the risk of accidentally shooting your cavalry, so the archers will have to work fast, but by then the Imperials will be surrounded, and you should be able to crush them.

As the rain intensifies a bit, their horses get even antsier.  As the lightning strikes, the soldiers look into the dark forests, fear apparent.  When the thunder claps, their officers bark orders to hurry and move the wagons from the mud.
> You stay with the Archers
When the heavens are silent, the wind stops blowing for a moment, and the trees stop their near eternal sway, a single arrow soars.

The Imperial officer, in the middle of yelling his commands.  Lurches forward, his face curling up as the arrow pierces his chainmail, sticking through his heart.  Only a moment after, dozens of arrows are unleashed upon the hapless soldiers.

Their cries ring out, almost drowned out by the thunder of Gigalak's wrath.  Many soldiers lay wounded, and others lay fallen.  They try to hide behind their wagons, some even shooting back.  You lay low as some of their arrows pierce the foliage, a few lucky shots downing some of your comrades.

An Imperial crouches behind a wagon, your arrow ready to be released and show the Imperial his doom.  As the lawless fire their arrows, the Imperial screams as arrows slam into his back.  On both sides, Imperial and Orcish cavalry alike duel on, the clamor raging.

At your signal, you and the orcs charge down the slope.  You slide through the mud, running as you touch the bottom.  Some arrows happen to miss you, swept off course by Gigalak's hand, and you break into the soldiers.

The first one you slash with your sword, his blood oozing from his coat and covering the top of his hauberk.  A swooshing sound comes from up ahead, a soldier's sword clinking against your leather padding and chainmail as you dodge the blow.

With a roar you embed your axe into his shoulder.  His chain catches most of it, but you ram your sword pommel into his jaw.  His face being reduces to a broken jaw and a bloody face, you turn to deflect blows from his other comrades.

A spearman downs the orc next to you.  Noticeably, his armor covers his face, two slits over where his eyes are, and a grate over his mouth.  He spins and twirls, intent on tripping you up.  You are too experienced and would not fall for this trick.  With a hop you avoid this maneuver, charging towards him as he brings the spear up and around.

As your foe tries to bring the spear down, you catch it in the shoulder of your axe.  Pushing it away, you step forward and jab your sword.  He grunts as the tip pierces his armor, and he accidentally drops the spear.

Taking this moment, you charge and swing.  Two other Imperials rush in to his aid, one nearly beheading you.  You roar and charge forward, ramming the sword all the way through his gut.  The second Imperial nicks your arm, and you slam the hammer side of your axe into his head.

The spearman draws a dagger, jabbing at your side.  It bounces off the chainmail, and seeing this, he and the other soldier charge you.  With the axe you deflect a dagger blow, ramming your shoulder into the spearman.  The other Imperial tries to aim for your throat, but, with a quick parry, your axe lands in his face.  A gurgling cry comes out, stymied by the blade in his face.

A squelching sound comes from behind, and you swing around just in time.  The spearman lifted a sword from a fallen comrade and stepped into jam it through your back.  Luckily you sidestep this and, grabbing his wrists, you twist the sword from his grasp.  He grunts as you force him to drop it, and slam one hand into his face, exposing his throat.

With a mighty cry, you send your fist into his exposed throat.  A pained choke coming from behind the helmet, he steps back and grips his throat.  He falls to one knee, his windpipe crushed, and his adam's apple dislodged.  You turn your attention to other combatants as the spearman struggles with choking to death…
> You forward
The Imperials try to hold out, managing to down a few orcs, but, in the end, they are overwhelmed.  You stand, stabbing an Imperial with one of their own spears repeatedly.  His friend, clutching an injury, swipes his blade at you.  You step back to dodge and ram the spear into his throat.  Gurgling as he goes down he swings once more; his blade scratches your hand but not too deep.

Twisting and pulling the spear, you yank it from his corpse.  You run forward, seeing the orcs beating down a group of Imperials.  The last few men seem terrified, and one not older than seventeen trembles.  If you could hear over the sound of the fighting, you would be able to hear his knees causing his hauberk to clink together.

Before you can reach them, the rest of the orcs have stabbed and battered them into oblivion.  Some orcs ride into the forest to find the fleeing soldiers.

You pant, watching the massacre taking place all around.  Wounded men cry out, and some lay there dying quietly.

An orc approaches you, the frenzy of blood-shed just starting to wear off.

"What shall we do with the wounded?" he asks.

You sit there and think for a moment.  Orcs have never really taken prisoners, and you don't have the supplies to care for their wounded.  You are worried about having enough medical supplies for your own as it is.

Although it might help to take some of them ransom, there is not too much that you would need, so maybe just leaving them to die would be better.
> You finish them off
"Finish off the wounded," you cry.  "Leave no survivors!"

At this, the orcs seem to go into a frenzy again as they start clubbing, hacking, and slashing the wounded.  Some orcs even loot the dying men before slicing off their scalps.

Stepping forward to do your dirty work, you flip over an injured soldier with your foot.  Placing the sword tip to his throat, the man tries to talk but his voice seems hoarse.  He sputters as rainwater barrages his mouth, and he soon closes it to die quietly.

With your foot on his chest, he feebly grabs your calf.  Snarling, you push the sword down as the tip slowly pushes through.  Blood oozes out of the neck wound, the man sputtering and choking on his blood, and the blade penetrating through.  In a matter of moments, his hands stop feebly hitting your leg as they go limp.

In the large crowd of orcs, you see Grolik.  He pushes a spear tip into a dying human, his face twisting into a mixture of anger and shame.  As Grolik pulls the spear out, you catch his glance.  Guilt written all over his face.

You were not aware that an orc such as he could have such emotions.  It comes as a bit of a shock to you, but sometimes tough things must be done to preserve victory.  While killing the helpless is not a task for the faint of heart, it must take its toll on some.

Rolomag sits on a rock, using a rag to nurse a gash on his cheek.  He seems tired, and just sits and watches the other orcs.  A good amount of whom are helping your injured orcs.  Sighing you decide it is a job best fit for them, as you have other work to do.

You wander off to continue…
> You aftermath, Six Months Later
These past six months after the battle where you ambushed the soldiers in the mud have been brutal.  You continued to push through, fighting patrol after patrol.  It seems that after some time, the humans have wised up, laying counter traps and ambushes.  These did not work too favorably for them at first, but they soon developed their skills.

Unlike them, you don't have hundreds and hundreds of recruits.  You and your army are tired, theirs is often quite fresh.  These skirmishes have dragged out over the last four years, and while they are not as intense as the four years of war you experienced with the Wister Elves, it is taking its toll.

You need more troops, and you need them fast.  It may be time to unite all of the orc tribes, as this concerns them as well.  While they are not fully involved, they have not been entirely complacent.  Some have traveled far to join you and your warriors, believing it is in the best interest of Orcin.

You have heard of reports of other armies such as yours gathering up.  Having tried to correspond with them, there have been delays, or the messages never arrive.  The increased Imperial presence must be contributing to this.  It seems that every month brings more and more of them on your doorstep.  You know that soon, they will be ready for a giant push.  The ambush and sabotage missions can only hold them back for so long.

While you do technically have your troops on some kind of rotation, it hasn't been enough.  The only real reason for the rotation is that you and many other orcs have homes and families to take care of.  Many of them have family and children old enough to help out on their farms and their ways of living; which you believe should at least help them in their home efforts.  The winters have been especially brutal these last few years though.  The only consolation is that, as orcs, you all tend to live off the land when agriculture is not available, which has helped immensely.

Your recent decision to bring all of your warriors back into the fight has caused grumbling from many.  They do not rebel though, as they know they work for the good of all of orc-kind.

While there are some that don't agree with everything you are doing, such as Galik and sometimes Grolik, you suppose that is bound to happen in these situations.

Leaving your tent, you go to check up on things...
> You by the Border
Standing on a rocky ridge, you watch over a large clearing.  On the other side is a forest leading from Orcin and into the Imperial lands.  Behind you stands Galik, who seems to be lost in thought.

"Just a few miles out there," you say, "lies the Imperial homeland."

Galik raises an eyebrow and steps forward, standing at your side.

"Will we be waging war in their home? As they have done to us?"

"No," you say, "they have legions staged in those forests.  Going in now would be suicide."

"So what, we're just going to sit here and let them take back the land we just kicked them out of?"

"Yes… to a point.  See this field? They'll never cross it on our watch, but they will try."

You sigh and pat Galik's shoulder.

"I need you all to watch over everything for me."

"What? Are you leaving us?"

"Not for long," you say.  "I need to get some help.  Unite the tribes."

"That's impossible, they'll never agree to join us.  If the Empire kills us all, well, they don't want to be held responsible as well."

"No, they'll see reason," you say.  "This affects all of us."

"Nolazir," Galik says, "if you don't move us into their homeland soon, I will do it."

"Don't, you fool.  This would put all these past few years of fighting to an end, and it wouldn't be good for us."

You point to Rolomag who is standing nearby.

"Make sure he doesn't do anything stupid."

With that, you mount your horse and ride back into the lands of Orcin.  While you have left a few trusted orcs in charge, you hope not to take too long.  Galik's impatience could spell doom for the Orcish army.  Rolomag certainly will obey your orders.

You are not sure of Grolik though, he has been scarce the last couple of days.  He seems to be leading his orcs from inside his tent.

While you are not sure of the outcome, you know you will fight the Mannate Empire until the bitter end.

Breathing in, you take in the air of the forests as you make your way to the tribes.
> You rising Part Two
One Month Later…

The large wooden gates of the village creak open, the surrounding orcs casting suspicious glances your way.  A few even have their hands on some weapons nearby, and you do not blame them.

Riding in through the mist which veils dawn's light, you appear almost as a specter of death.  Lifting the hood, you give your brethren a weary nod.

A few of their eyes widen as they recognize you, some stand unsure of who you are, and some just shrug and go back to their business.

One orc approaches you.

"Who are you?"

"I am Nolazir, surrogate chief of the River Tribe in place of Chief Greusim."

The orc's eyes widen.

"It's been four years, and you have not found a replacement? Does he have any sons?"

You nod.

"One, but he is young and impatient.  I will stand in until he has learned how to do his duty with patience and wisdom."

The orc scoffs at the unthinkable act of leaving a tribe largely chief less.

"What is it that you seek?"

"I want to speak with your chief," you say.

The orc shrugs and gives you directions to the chief's hut.  That was a bit easier than you thought.

As you ride forward, the large hut comes into view.  You are impressed to see that it actually has two stories to it.  Most orcs chose to build one floor but with a wider house, although you are aware the council has at least three floors.

Pushing this useless information out of your mind, you hop off your horse.  Your legs are stiff from the long ride, and you take a moment to stretch them.

Muffled yelling comes out from within the doors of the chief's hut.  Splinters of wood fly as the door bursts open.  A hapless orc youth falls out and tumbles down the stairs.

A large, broad orc steps out.  His dark mane falling past his shoulders, two sharp teeth protrude from his bottom lip.  His right eye looks like it is perpetually swollen halfway shut, a series of scars emanating from the side of his eye and going all the way to his ear.  On his head rests a helmet with two bullhorns attached to it.

His tribal necklaces jingle as he bounds down the steps, his boot landing in the young orc's face.

"Fool, how could you be so incomprenent?" he says, not realizing he butchered the word.

The youth prepares to defend himself, but the chief is too fast.  He twists the orcs arm and lands several fists into his ribs.  As he continues to beat the orc, you wonder if he will kill him.

While you have the strong urge to step in, you also don't want to get into another tribe's affairs.  They could easily kill you for interfering, although it wouldn't be the first time you have pissed off an orc chief.
> You step In
You walk forward, prepared for anything.  The orc chief snorts as he stops wailing on the orc young for a moment.

"Who the hell are you?" he asks.

"Nolazir of the River Tribe," you say.  "I'm here to see the chief."

"I am Chief Gro'tesk," he snorts again.  "Nolazir, huh?  I've heard of you.  Getting soft for an orc, are ya?"

Your eyes narrow, some think you've gone soft, and others think it's just your age.

"I'm not sure what you're talking about."

"Pshhah, you let those under you argue and disagree with you all day long. The right way is to beat them into submission."

"Why don't you just leave him alone, he is already defeated."

The chief laughs and throws the young one to the ground, he cannot be any older than fifteen.  Gro'tesk lands a couple swift kicks to his ribs.

"You done beating him yet?" you ask.

Gro'tesk's eyes narrow, he straightens up and stares at you.

"No," he says, "and I don't think you'll do anything about it either"

"Oh yeah, and why is that?"

"Because you need me, and my allies," he says.  "You want us to help you fight the humans?"

"Yes."

"Well, I'm not gonna help you!" he snarls.  "You're nothing but a weakling!"

Taking a deep breath, and, tilting your chin down slightly, you frown.

"So are we going to do this the hard way?"

The chief grins and cracks his knuckles.  You slowly roll your neck and stretch your arms back.

"I have two conditions," you say.  "If I win, you join me, along with your allies, and you stop beating the kid."

"If I win… you screw off!" Gro'tesk screams.

By now, a large group of orcs has gathered around.  All of them cheering on Gro'tesk as he removes his tribal necklaces.  They make a circle around you as you prepare to fight…
> You fight!
Fists raised, you step to the side, constantly circling your foe.  Gro'tesk does likewise, a sadistic grin spread across his face.

With a huff you step forward, your fist twisting as the arm propels it forward.  Gro'tesk's cheek ripples and his head turns as he moves with the punch.  At the same time his fist flies, you manage to knock it away.

Ducking under, you slam your left fist into his ribs and come back up slamming into his jaw.

Gro'tesk staggers back, bewildered at your speed.  Although you are quite a large orc, he is bigger than you.

He throws a backhand, which hits your defending arm.  As he brings it back, he sends his other fist forward, which you manage to parry.  But, in your rush, you accidentally lower your right arm a bit too far…

As it connects a quick flash of dark splits through your vision, but only for a brief moment.  As you stagger back, a pain shoots through your jaw.  Managing to duck another blow, you push your opponent back, a move he was not expecting.

As you try to regain your ground, you feel a fuzziness spreading throughout your head.  Getting punched sucks.

As you step forward, you consider your next move…
> You feign a Kick
Lifting your knee, you hop forward and act as though you are about to kick Gro'tesk's shin.  He brings one hand down to push your leg away, and in this moment you slam your foot into the ground, lurching forward.

In the same movement, you reel your fist back and then bolt forward.  Your knuckles hit him straight in the forehead, this is followed by another swift hit right under his eye.

Gro'tesk grunts and staggers back.  With a mighty roar he charges you, slamming one punch into your chest.

"Oof!"

The blow knocks the wind out of you, throwing you to the ground.  Chief Gro'tesk savagely lands a quick kick to your face.  Reeling to the side you land face first in the dirt, the heavy pounding of his feet stopping as he lifts his foot again.
> You cheap Shot
Grunting and rolling, you dodge his right foot, stopping under and between both of his legs.  Pushing up on your forearm, your other hand curls into a fist, hitting him right in the sweet spot with a thud.  He hunches a bit as his face contorts into pain.

He screams as his knees buckle, but before he can fall forward you slam your foot into his stomach, toppling him another way.

You pant as you pull yourself up, looking at the large group of orcs standing around you.  Some look disapprovingly at your method of winning, others stand in awe, and some appear indifferent.  The chief grunts as he rolls around in pain.

"No fair!" he says, "that was cheating!"

"There is no such thing as cheating when you're about to get your face stomped in."

The chief manages to pull himself up.

"Fine!" he says," you win."

The chief pouts as he hobbles over to his hut, and you follow to give him your terms.
> You terms and Conditions
Gro'tesk sits on his large fur and leather chair, looking glum.  It's apparent he is used to getting his way, but so are you.

You grin as you finish explaining your terms.

"You would still largely be in command of your tribe and your allies," you say, "only I will have final say and make the larger battlefield and strategic decisions."

"Hmm, I don't like to be bossed around."

"You wouldn't be so much," you say.  "Think of yourself still as a chief and advisor, only I'm just supervising the rest of you."

Gro'tesk seems to mull this over and leans back.

"Well as long as I get some say in things…"

With that, you have Gro'tesk agree to go meet your army, along with the lesser tribes that follow him.

You go and mount your horse, intent on gathering some more tribes…
> Two Months Later....
You've traveled far the past three months total, gaining the support from large and small tribes alike.  It has been tough convincing some, but others are far more agreeable.  From the reports you've heard, it's put much less pressure on your army, for now.

On the downside, Galik and Grolik have managed to engage the Mannate Empire in some larger skirmishes than you would have liked.  Rolomag and the other more reliable orcs haven't been able to keep them in check as well as you had hoped.

As you ride on, one of the coastal villages comes into view.  The sun bearing down upon you, in the distance you see a number of orcs.  Some seem to be fishing with nets and spears, and some seem to be enjoying the sun.  A few unsurprisingly wrestle in circles made of seashells.

Several wooden boats float lazily among the waves.  One orc saunters over to you, his skin a much darker shade of green due to generations of living out here.  Yours is a much lighter shade of green.  The orc stops several feet away from you.

"Who are you?"

"Nolazir."

His eyebrows arch and his eyes widen a bit.  A small grin spreads across his face.

"I have heard of you, fighting off the humans.  Making your rounds to many of the villages and tribes.  That is why you are here?"

"Yes."

The orc chuckles as he leads you toward the village.

"I don't think we'll be able to help you, friend," he says.

"All of us are at stake," you say.  "We need all the people we can get."

"We're having our own issues.  We can't save everyone else when we can't even save ourselves."

You grunt, scanning the area.  Nothing seems to be happening.

"What's your name?" you ask.

"Silak," he says, "I just do the fishing around here.  The chief is inside."

He gestures into a small wooden hut.  You nod to him in thanks and step inside, the old wood steps creaking a bit.

Half of the hut is dark, the rest illuminated by the sunlight entering between the wooden beams above.  Some tarp seems to be covering the rest of it.

You stop short as a figure steps out of the shadows, an orc with several wrinkles on his face.  His raven dark hair contrasted by a multitude of grey hairs throughout.  His face turns up into a weary smile.  His dark green skin hiding him well, until he steps into the rays of light.

"Welcome, friend," he says.  "I am Chief Hidius."

"I am Nolazir."

It is just then that you notice the severe burn marks covering Hidius' body.  His face, from what you can see, is even a bit distorted.

"I know why you are here."

"Will you join me?" you ask.

"No."

"But-"

"Walk with me."

The chief puts his hand on your shoulder, slowly leading you outside.  As you step into the sunlight, you realize Hidius injuries are more severe than you thought.  It appears as though his nose has been smelted off of his face.  You're surprised that his hair is still growing though, which should not be possible.

"How... is your hair still growing?"

"A rude question to ask of my deformities."

"I'm sorr-"

"No.  It's alright, no one has asked in a long time, some around here know the story.  Others think it's crazed nonsense."

Hidius waves a hand to change the subject.  He stops and gestures to the village and the waters ahead.

"Gigalak gave us these lands and these waters so that we could live wild and free.  The Mannate Empire wants to take that from us."

"So help us stop them."

"We can't… I can't," Hidius says.  "I am dying and so is my village."

"What do you mean?"

"We've been cursed, you see, as made apparent by my condition."

"That's nonsense," you say.  "Taking heavy burn wounds isn't going to damn the rest of the village.  Besides, they look fine to me."

Hidius chuckles.

"It won't be today, or tomorrow, or even a decade from now, but we're all doomed.  I've seen it."

Hidius closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

"Whether or not we stop the Mannate Empire… something far worse is waiting to take us into a grip of fire."

"Stop this," you say, "and tell me what you mean."

"Nothing we really do this day matters anymore, I have seen it."

You take a deep breath and try to stop yourself from shaking the older orc in frustration.

"No matter what is going to happen, you can't just lay down and die."

You gently put a hand on his shoulder and turn him around to face you.

"We're orcs damn it, and we fight everything that gets in our way.  Living, dead, hell, Empire, whatever it may be.  We don't just lay down and die."

The chief smiles slowly.

"While that may be true of you and yours, I am old and tired of fighting.  I've seen enough horrors to last one thousand lifetimes.  Our time is useless."
> You say "Use that time for a greater purpose"
"If you think you're gonna die anyways, why don't you use whatever time you have left for something good?" you ask.

The chief shuts his eyes and seems to be contemplating your words.

"Whatever you think is coming to harm us all, we can deal with it when it comes.  In the meantime, we can't just sit around and let the Empire step on us."

Hidius does nothing.

"I need everyone that I can get," you say, "there are so many orcs doing their part.  Now you need to do yours.  Please….I'm asking for your help."

At this, Hidius opens his eyes and gives you a side wards look.

"Although your words will be ultimately futile…..I will help you."

Letting out a sigh of relief, you step to the side.

"One more thing," you say, "stop spreading this doom prophecy to your people.  They're really taking it to heart.  I'm not saying it's not true or whatever, but at least lift their spirits a little."

Hidius nods, and begins to walk back to his hut.

"I will gather a group of warriors, and we will meet your army."

"Good," you say, "make haste, for things are stirring quickly."

Hidius nods, and goes to a group of orcs.  You can’t hear what he says, but they all seem to go off to find more orcs.

With satisfaction, you mount your horse to make your way out of the village.  As you head to where you are sure where the next will be, you think that maybe you'll find a place to escape the heat first.
> Three Months Later...
It has been six months since you left to unite the tribes.  It has not been easy, but it has been largely successful.  There were a few that gave you trouble, refusing to join in the fight.  Even then, some of their members disobeyed and walked right out with you.  The rest will come around eventually.

Lately, the Council has sent several couriers with messages urging you to hold off in the fight against the Empire.  You always send them back with a "no."

It appears that the humans have really been pushing within the last month, and Galik seems to have taken charge over things since you have left.  Maybe he has finally matured and is ready to take over for you.

You wouldn't mind not having to worry about all of this; except for the fighting really.  It would be just like the war with the Wister Elves, someone points and you attack, broken up with random bursts of initiative and leadership.

At the same time, your axe itches to go into the fray.  That spark Gigalak ignited into all orcs has not gone out yet.  You begin to wonder where this course of action will take you when it begins to rain.

"It's raining again."

As you make your way back to your camp, you see that it has grown tremendously.  Many orcs shout and greet you as you enter.  While you have been pretty well liked by most of them, you didn't expect such an enthusiastic welcome.

"The chieftain has returned!"

"Hail Nolazir!"

"Our leader returns to us!"

You smirk a bit, it will be a letdown for some if they find out you're thinking of resigning over to Galik.

As you enter the main area of the camp where many of the orcish leaders live, you notice something is different.  Several posts have been erected, with orcs tied to them, while their comrades grimly whip them.

As you turn, looking between your old tent and some of the others, there upon the ground are three slain orcs.  Above them stands Galik, a fiery rage in his eyes.  Near them, stands Grolik, severely beaten and held back by three orcs.

"Galik!" you cry.

Galik breathes heavily and looks up from the corpses to meet your eye.

"Nolazir," he says prowling forward, "stand down!"

"What is going on?"

"These fools disobeyed me.  They were here to sabotage our efforts."

"What in Grikalia are you talking about?"

"These traitors spent weeks scheming and planning," Galik said, "but it was not that alone that caused this? Do you want to know what it was?"

You glare at him, lowering your chin a bit.  Your hands curl at your side as you prepare for anything.

"There are some in the Council who think we should give the humans quarter," Galik says, "parley with them, make an agreement.  These fools pushed this idea, even saying we should compromise with them."

Galik furiously spits on one of the corpses.

"This one thought that we should concede some land to be annexed with the Empire.  Fools."

While you can see the logic in his anger, something seems off.

"And the rest?" you ask.

"Not so keen on the idea of conceding land yet," Galik says, "but it was only a matter of time before the traitor would get them to turn over.  I know this."

"That's only one of three," you say, "and you think you can justify their executions with assumptions?"

"Nolazir, they were traitors.  I could see it!  It would not have been too long!"

"And what say you for Grolik?" you ask.  "What has he done?"

Grolik slowly looks up at the two of you, a dark look in his eyes.

"When I was… purging these traitors, he tried to intervene," Galik says, "using much the same words as you have.  Actually, he is lucky I haven't gutted him yet, seeing as he has been a pain these last couple of months."

Galik twirls his sword a bit before pointing it at the whipping post.

"I thought a nice whipping would get him to change his mind," he says, "but he sure is stubborn.  I have only spared his life because he spoke against these traitors, but then he ridiculed me for sending them to Grikalia early."

"So what do you intend to do?" you ask.

"I'm going to kill him," Galik says with a smirk.

"Or more like…" he grins, "you're going to kill him.  Prove your loyalty to your new chief, Nolazir"

Galik takes a few steps back, gesturing you to step forward.  As you do, the other three orcs raise Grolik.

As you stand in front of him, one of the orcs hands you a shortsword.  As you grip the simple weapon, the texture of the leather grip feels odd to you right now.

Grolik looks at you, shaking his head a bit.

"Don't do it Nolazir," he says.  "I think we know who the real traitor is."

You look at the blade, surely Galik has seen madness, but could you really kill the child of your dear friend Greusim?  The young orc who had often sat on your lap when you went to visit your now dead friend… all those years ago.

Who is Grolik?  You've known him for a few years, but he is just a lawless orc.  Still, he has shown great promise, and hasn't let you down yet.  Other than your first altercation, he has been a true friend.

Grolik looks into your eyes, there is no fear.  There is a quiet rage, and even a hint of sadness in his eyes.
> You free Grolik
With a heavy sigh… you lift the sword up, gripping it with both hands.  Grolik doesn't even blink as you bring it down.  But you step slightly to the side, slicing clean through the arm of the orc to your left who handed you the sword.  He screams in pain as he falls over, and you run the second through the chest.

As you pull it out, you turn around just in time to deflect an attack from Galik.  As you circle him and parry his blows, Grolik tackles the third orc, turning his own dagger towards him.

"You've made the wrong choice, old friend," Galik says.  "I'm sorry."

You don't respond but, instead, block his swift attack.  Galik fights with ferocity, but you match this with skill.

As you hook your blade onto his hilt, you turn and twist, Galik flies forward.  He drops his sword for a moment but rolls and picks it back up.  Behind him, Grolik and the other orc still struggle, the dagger on the ground and both of them in a deadly grapple.

Galik twirls his sword as you circle each other.

"Drop the sword, Galik," you say.  "It doesn't have to be like this."

"Oh but it does.  Remember, you chose this!"

The last couple of words are emphasized by Galik swinging his sword down at you.  You easily dodge this and take a wide swipe, nicking his arm.  Galik hisses and swings at your head, which you duck as you plunge the tip of the sword into his calf.

Galik cries out in pain and staggers back.  You raise the sword before pausing, instead, taking a step back.

"You truly have gotten soft, Nolazir," he says.  "What happened to the ruthless orc I used to hear stories about?"

"Do you really think I want to kill you?" you say.  "You're the child of my dear friend Greusim.  He was like a father to me, why would I want to kill any of his children?"

"You're just a weakling and a pathetic leader, Nolazir," Galik says.  "My father would be disappointed in you."

With these words still in the air, Galik charges you, first swinging high but then veering low.  With a cry you barely manage to escape, the tip of the blade slicing into your thigh.  Gritting your teeth you slash his chest.

Not once, but twice and then three times; you swing the sword in a perfect arc of fury.  Galik's face twists as he staggers back, clutching his chest.  He raises his sword and stumbles forward, you easily deflect the strike and slam your foot into his knee.

Galik cries out and falls back, rolling to get away from what he thought would be a killing blow.  As he looks up, you see the seething hatred in his eyes.  His sword lays behind you, which he had dropped when you knocked him over.

"Well, what are you waiting for, Nolazir?"

You take a step forward, raising the sword.  As you do so, you remember the first day that Greusim showed Galik to you; when he was but an infant wrapped inside a blanket.  You remember the days of taking him out as a young lad, teaching him how to fish and about the plants and animals.  You remember the closeness you used to share, before Greusim fell, and this wrath took him over.
> You kill Galik
As these memories flood through your mind, you realize that it doesn't matter what he was.  It just matters what he has become; and that's a murderer.  He would drag the orcish armies into the grave with him, dooming Orcin to an eternity of rule by the Mannate Empire.

Galik laughs insanely as you step forward, and you drive the sword down…

In the last moment, Galik rolls to the side and the sword slams into the dirt.  You pull, but the blade does not budge.

Standing, you cannot do anything before your foe slams into you.  His fingers dig into your shoulder as he draws a dagger from under his shirt.  He grins and chuckles as he lifts the blade up, intent on slamming it into your chest.  The dagger gleaming in the sunlight, showing you your final moments…

Galik brings the knife down, your hand shooting up just in time.  Grunting you twist and wrench the blade from his hand.  Grabbing his shoulder you shove the knife forward into his belly, as it slides through surprisingly easy.  Galik gasps, and his hands grip your shoulders.

You rip the dagger out and slam it back into him, this time some splatter decorating your forearms.  On the third strike, Galik's knees buckle and he falls back, guided by your hand.  As you kneel over him, Galik's hands grip your arms and shoulder.
> You stab him again
He tries to speak but he is too winded.  Snarling, and with a gleam of victory in your eyes, you plunge the knife into him a fourth time.  Galik's eyes widen for a moment before his head falls back onto the dirt.  He expels a short breath before laying still.

Panting heavily, you kneel over your once good friend.  You stare down at his face, empty eyes staring into the sky above.  Your brow furrows as you place your hands under him, lifting him up a bit.

"Why did you make me have to do this, Galik?" you ask.  "Greusim was my friend.  I've known you since before you were born.  You fool."

With this, you drop him, and you look up to see Grolik.  He stands there holding a bloody dagger at his side.  He gives you an understanding nod.

You stand up and start to walk away.  He raises an eyebrow.

"Let someone else deal with his corpse," you say.  "I want nothing to do with him anymore.  It's done."

You drop the dagger and walk to the tent, and, sitting on the chair, you grab some whiskey…
> Six Months Later
The last six months since Galik's death have been eventful.  It took a while for you to reorganize the camp, fixing all of Galik's mistakes.  While it was stressful at first, you managed to delegate some responsibility to Grolik, Gro'tesk, Hidius, and Rolomag.

Everything is now organized, but it seems that the Empire is done playing around.  In the last two months alone, you have repelled several small-scale assaults.  You are sure they are finally going to act and make some big moves.

But so are you.  Soon, these years of stalemates and quiet maneuvering will be at an end.  Soon, it will be time to test the Mannate Empire's true mettle.

The past five years have been filled with hardships and struggles, but you have managed to overcome all of them.  For the first time, you are looking at this conflict pretty positively.  Young orcs trickle in everyday willing to contribute to the cause.  What worries you though is their age.  While there are plenty of experienced veterans in your army, the number of young, inexperienced, and foolhardy orcs concerns you.

Traditionally, orcs have always set out as adults at the age of fifteen.  What this usually means for them is going out and finding adventure and fighting things.  Because of your warlike nature, many orcs do not actually live too long.  Some would even consider an orc such as yourself, at the ripe age of thirty-five to have been a long enough and accomplished life.

Gigalak did not intend your kind to grow old and miserable, but, instead, to put life into your years, no matter how short or long they may be.

You sense someone pulling up to the side of you.

"Still thinking about Galik?" Grolik asks.

"Among other things," you sigh.

"I know you were close to him, but he just went too far."

"I know, it’s just hard seeing someone you care about turn into something else."

Grolik exhales slowly, nodding as he does so.

"Sometimes, you'll do everything you can to save someone," he says, "but sometimes you have to do what you have to do."

"What would you know about this?" you snort.

Grolik gulps and looks into the distance before turning his head to you.

"I….I butchered my entire family and tribe."

"What?" you ask.

"It's… a long story."

Before you can say anything further, Grolik spurs his horse forward to attend to something else.

A whole throng of orcs march ahead and behind you, as you all make your way down the mountains and to the hills where the rest of your army waits.  Along the way, you have groups of fighters intersperse throughout the hills and rocks just before the plains.  It seems the Empire plans to take you on in open combat.

The scouts alerted you of the huge shift in troops heading this way.  Once your reserves and last line are firmly placed, you call to all of your commanders.

Kneeling by a rock, you spread a map across it.  Taking a piece of charcoal to mark it up.

Rolomag peers closely at it, rubbing his chin.  Grolik looks out to the hills and then to the plains and forest ahead.  Gro'tesk sharpens his weapons and checks the string on his bow.  Hidius closes his eyes and takes in the crisp air.

You start by marking all of the locations the Imperials should be attacking from.  Mostly, directly ahead of you.

Gro'tesk points to the area in the Southeast.

"I think they'll try sending a few brigades through here," he says.  "While there's no chance they would be able to make it through the mountains in time, it wouldn't take much longer for them to divert through these woods."

You have some light patrols stationed in the mountains, so they would alert your left flank if they saw Imperials moving through there.

"Hmm, we can probably divert more troops to watching that area then," you say.

"Or, we could go through that way ourselves and try to catch them off guard," Gro'tesk says, "whether or not they're coming through that way."

"No way," Rolomag says. "We need all the warriors here that we can get.  Their only real option is to try to push through the plains, and we should try to match them."

"No, wrong way!" Gro'tesk yells.

Grolik speaks without looking to the group.

"I think Gro'tesk is actually right about this one," he says, "we need to keep an eye over that way.  Or maybe even exploit it."

"Yes, if they get cavalry through those woods," Gro'tesk says, "even with our reserves and archers, we won't be able to stop them from wiping through our flank."

You analyze the area, the humans could utilize it, in which case it would be helpful to prepare to counteract them.  They also just might use brute force, in which case you would need to have all of your fighters here at the ready.

"There is another thing," Hidius says.  "While we can't expect them to come through and around the mountains, see this stretch of open space between the mountains and the trees?"

Rolomag squints at the map.

"Yes, but what does that-"

"If they move some soldiers through here," Hidius says, "they could easily hit this side with a concentrated force.  I suspect they would use cavalry to cover the gap as well."

"Let me position more warriors there," he continues.  "I will keep the mountain patrol there.  But if we see any soldiers or cavalry, we can easily ride in and trap them in between the main force and this one."
> You attack Straight On
"I like Rolomag's idea," you say.  "The chances of them utilizing either side is nonsense."

"What? Fool!" Gro'tesk yells.

Grolik's eyes snap to you in surprise.

"Nolazir," he says, "are you serious?  This is stupid.  You were the one always going on about how pure strength alone won't win this."

"I can't say I agree at all," Hidius says, "but if I can't change your mind, I will obey."

Rolomag just sits back in silence.

You nod to all of them and roll up the map.

"I know this won't be easy," you say, "but I know we can do this.  We'll still have the reserves to help us, but as I see it… we're gonna be able to just push through them."

Grolik shakes his head.

"I don't know about this, Nolazir," he says.  "Why don't we think about this again?"

"No," you say.  "I have decided."

Grolik sighs and goes off to get his orcs ready.  The rest do the same.
> You preparations
Days later, your troops stand at attention, their mail armor and weapons gleaming in the sunlight.  The red tendrils of the rising sun cast themselves over the sky, piercing the clouds like slender fingers eager to reach into what lay beyond.  The wind's breath carries the fresh morning air through the field, passing through each warrior; the wind carrying the breath they might otherwise hold in anticipation of what lays ahead.

The orcs stand before you, ready to move forth at the sight of the Mannate Empire.  The reserves wait in the rocky hills behind you.  While not appearing so, many orcs are nervous, as any would be before a large battle; but, with hope in their minds and courage in their hearts, they stand by you.

Your horse shuffles, it's ears pricking up.  The song of the Empire trickles from the forest, quietly at first.  But, as the first humans emerge, their hauberks showing crests of their nobles, the standard bearers proudly emerge, their counterparts blaring trumpets and horns.  How kind of them to announce themselves, yet so arrogant.

The columns of Mannate warriors spill forth.  They move simultaneously.  They do not waver or break form.  Their perfect union a direct affront to the free and natural order that was intended for all.

The human soldiers stand at attention, all saluting as their officers move up and down the line.  Some appear to inspect their warriors, some seem to be doing a lot of shouting.  Others stand calmly in front of their columns.

One knight, which you recognize as such by the helm he wears, rides out in front of the column.  He waves a white flag ahead above him.

"I think they wish to speak," Hidius says.

You scowl at the human riding forth, as if you could not have him crushed.  His hands held up and flag waving as a sign of peace.

Spurring the horse beneath you to meet this human, you keep your hand by your sword.

Stopping several feet away from the Imperial, you both meet in the field between your armies.

"Hail Orc," the knight says.

You grunt in response.

"General Levalier has sent me to parley. Will you speak?"

"I will."

"Who may I ask do you speak for?"

"Myself."

"So you are this rabble's leader?"

Peering through the slits in the knight's helmet, his eyes light up in understanding.  His other hand, which lays free of the flag, twitches slightly by his sword.  Your hand already rests near yours.

You peer into the eyes of the knight, your eyes narrowing as you do so.  The soldier looks back, and both of you sit there in silence.

His hand slowly moves away from his sword as he shifts to hold the flag with both hands.

"I have been sent to ask you to disperse your forces."

"No."

"Brute, won't you listen to reas-"

"No."

"I say, while I would not expect a beast of your nature to understand politics.  At least hear the message my general has for yourself."

"The only thing you need to do is go home," you say.  "You could save many of your soldiers' lives today."

The knight huffs in exasperation and turns his horse around.  He gallops back, moving around the side of the columns.

Grunting, you trot back to your spot among your comrades.  You don't trust that they will just up and leave after these years of skirmishes and preparation.  It seems that battle was fated to happen this day, it will progress no matter what words are spoken.
> You attack!
The trumpets across the field begin to sound, and the officers riding upon their horses shout and wave their swords around.  With all of your troops in position, you take your horn.  Exhaling, you blow into it, and the other chiefs under you do so as well.  The air is filled with the sound of war as you and your warriors pour forward.  The Mannate humans approach, weapons held tightly and the crest of their Emperor waving in the wind.

Your orcs go to meet them, the might of Gigalak carries you forward to crush your enemies.
> You brute Force
With all of your forces centered, the orcish lines meet the human's with unparalleled force.  You watch from your horse as weapons and shields collide.  Mail armor protecting both sides from grievous wounds.  It is not too long before your orcs push through the humans first line, bashing and knocking down warriors as the rest overtake them.

The humans give a steady retreat, before spearmen move through the columns to give some support.  Two large columns come down and around from each side, taking a diagonal assault to your front.  On your orders, your fighters divert to stand against it.  As you wave your arm, two bands of cavalry swoop around your lines.  One lead by Grolik and his Red Handed, the other by Gro'tesk and various civilized orc tribes.

Archers in each of your lines work to weaken your foes.  Hidius and Rolomag each lead one of the defending lines to your sides, and you command the center force.  With Gigalak's fist you break into the center.  As your lines push the Imperials back, some Imperial knights by Grolik shake up his assault.

From where you are, you can't reach them.  But orcs from one of the columns rush forth, taking on the knights.  Many orcs to the right fall, but your overall army holds strong, and steadily you push the Imperials back.  The horses stepping over the crumpled remains of orc and human alike.

Grolik blows his horn, rallying his troops.  Nursing a wound in his shoulder, he rides forward, inspiring his fighters to go forth.  Many fight on, even with life threatening injuries.  You gaze to the wave of orcs.

Grolik circles around them, yelling out orders.  In a moment, his eyes meet yours, before his face scrunches and his brows furrow.  Looking down to his chest, a bloody arrow protrudes from his heart.  Your friend goes limp and slumps off his horse, rolling as he hits the ground.  Many of his orcs stare in confusion, before a volley of arrows shows them the same fate.

From the forest in the Southeast, a column of Imperial soldiers rushes out, covered by archers.  They do untold damage to your right flank.  They sweep in before your forces can organize a defense.  Roaring, you charge forward.

Rolomag starts to divert troops.

"No," you cry, "stay focused.  I've got this."

As you ride by, you see Grolik's eyes glazed, and staring into the sky.  The arrow having gone straight through his heart, and spilling his spirit into the void.  Orcs continue to fall, as the diversion weakens your center line.  The humans in the center gain no ground, but don't lose any either.

Something else in the distance disturbs you.  Circling around, a large cavalry rides through the open plain.  Between the mountains and the forest they go, sweeping into your left flank.  Hidius is just able to mount his horse, fighting off a knight.  You howl in agony as another one rides up behind Hidius, planting his sword through his back.

Hidius falls quietly, and almost immediately.  Somewhere in the fray, you see Silak defending his chief's corpse before himself being killed.  As you rally troops to defend this side, Gro'tesk glances to you, his eyes flashing in anger.

The lines and columns are all in a frenzy, being attacked viciously from multiple sides.  There is no semblance of lines and divisions.  All the orcs fight as one, the Imperials slowly pushing through with reinvigorated fury.

Slamming the butt of your axe into a hapless soldiers helmet, you let out a roar.  His helmet pinging and denting under your blow, his eyes bloodshot from the trauma.  The soldier twitches before laying still.

The horse you are on cries out in agony, a couple of arrows piercing its chest.  Managing to leap off, you roll to the ground and stand bearing both weapons.  Just in time to meet the blades of bloodthirsty soldiers.

Hacking, slashing, and bashing you stand by your brethren.  As you remove the head of one soldier, another's spear finds its way through your armor.  Your mouth gapes in pain but you stay silent, grimacing and facing the soldier, you knock his spear away.

With a grunt you shove the sword blade under his helmet and into his face.  Specks of crimson blood cover your arms as the soldier writhes, twitches, and dies.  On the right flank, the Imperials push Rolomag's line ever closer to this one.  The center also being pushed back.

Rolomag, with several injuries, gives you a weary nod.  You are about to return it when Rolomag huffs and falls, an axe buried in his back.  Ahead of you, a beast of a man wrenches the axe from your fallen friend's back.

You charge each other, weapons sparking and colliding.  Grinning, you slam the spike atop your axe into the man's ribs.  He ignores the pain and hacks into your side, breaking through the armor and embedding his axe into your ribs.

Twisting, you make him lose his grip.  Your sword buries into the human's neck as his eyes widen in surprise.  Before you can twist the sword out, a burning sensation shoots through your side.

The axe blade twists through your side snapping ribs and almost blinding you with pain.  Before you can move, the axe blade slams into your helmet.  As this happens a hand pushes you down, before you can twist around the handle slams into your helmet as well.

It's not long before various weapons slam into your armor or pierce through it and into your flesh.  Your body aches all over, before feeling numb as you are overwhelmed.


The last six months since Galik's death have been eventful.  It took a while for you to reorganize the camp, fixing all of Galik's mistakes.  While it was stressful at first, you managed to delegate some responsibility to Grolik, Gro'tesk, Hidius, and Rolomag.

Everything is now organized, but it seems that the Empire is done playing around.  In the last two months alone, you have repelled several small-scale assaults.  You are sure they are finally going to act and make some big moves.

But so are you.  Soon, these years of stalemates and quiet maneuvering will be at an end.  Soon, it will be time to test the Mannate Empire's true mettle.

The past five years have been filled with hardships and struggles, but you have managed to overcome all of them.  For the first time, you are looking at this conflict pretty positively.  Young orcs trickle in everyday willing to contribute to the cause.  What worries you though is their age.  While there are plenty of experienced veterans in your army, the number of young, inexperienced, and foolhardy orcs concerns you.

Traditionally, orcs have always set out as adults at the age of fifteen.  What this usually means for them is going out and finding adventure and fighting things.  Because of your warlike nature, many orcs do not actually live too long.  Some would even consider an orc such as yourself, at the ripe age of thirty-five to have been a long enough and accomplished life.

Gigalak did not intend your kind to grow old and miserable, but, instead, to put life into your years, no matter how short or long they may be.

You sense someone pulling up to the side of you.

"Still thinking about Galik?" Grolik asks.

"Among other things," you sigh.

"I know you were close to him, but he just went too far."

"I know, it’s just hard seeing someone you care about turn into something else."

Grolik exhales slowly, nodding as he does so.

"Sometimes, you'll do everything you can to save someone," he says, "but sometimes you have to do what you have to do."

"What would you know about this?" you snort.

Grolik gulps and looks into the distance before turning his head to you.

"I….I butchered my entire family and tribe."

"What?" you ask.

"It's… a long story."

Before you can say anything further, Grolik spurs his horse forward to attend to something else.

A whole throng of orcs march ahead and behind you, as you all make your way down the mountains and to the hills where the rest of your army waits.  Along the way, you have groups of fighters intersperse throughout the hills and rocks just before the plains.  It seems the Empire plans to take you on in open combat.

The scouts alerted you of the huge shift in troops heading this way.  Once your reserves and last line are firmly placed, you call to all of your commanders.

Kneeling by a rock, you spread a map across it.  Taking a piece of charcoal to mark it up.

Rolomag peers closely at it, rubbing his chin.  Grolik looks out to the hills and then to the plains and forest ahead.  Gro'tesk sharpens his weapons and checks the string on his bow.  Hidius closes his eyes and takes in the crisp air.

You start by marking all of the locations the Imperials should be attacking from.  Mostly, directly ahead of you.

Gro'tesk points to the area in the Southeast.

"I think they'll try sending a few brigades through here," he says.  "While there's no chance they would be able to make it through the mountains in time, it wouldn't take much longer for them to divert through these woods."

You have some light patrols stationed in the mountains, so they would alert your left flank if they saw Imperials moving through there.

"Hmm, we can probably divert more troops to watching that area then," you say.

"Or, we could go through that way ourselves and try to catch them off guard," Gro'tesk says, "whether or not they're coming through that way."

"No way," Rolomag says. "We need all the warriors here that we can get.  Their only real option is to try to push through the plains, and we should try to match them."

"No, wrong way!" Gro'tesk yells.

Grolik speaks without looking to the group.

"I think Gro'tesk is actually right about this one," he says, "we need to keep an eye over that way.  Or maybe even exploit it."

"Yes, if they get cavalry through those woods," Gro'tesk says, "even with our reserves and archers, we won't be able to stop them from wiping through our flank."

You analyze the area, the humans could utilize it, in which case it would be helpful to prepare to counteract them.  They also just might use brute force, in which case you would need to have all of your fighters here at the ready.

"There is another thing," Hidius says.  "While we can't expect them to come through and around the mountains, see this stretch of open space between the mountains and the trees?"

Rolomag squints at the map.

"Yes, but what does that-"

"If they move some soldiers through here," Hidius says, "they could easily hit this side with a concentrated force.  I suspect they would use cavalry to cover the gap as well."

"Let me position more warriors there," he continues.  "I will keep the mountain patrol there.  But if we see any soldiers or cavalry, we can easily ride in and trap them in between the main force and this one."
> You allow Gro'tesk to Flank
"Gro'tesk," you say, "I want you to put together a strike force, and go around.  Give the battle some time to start, but once you take them by surprise, hit them as hard as you can."

"Got it," Gro'tesk nods.

"What about the left side?" Hidius asks.

"We don't need to worry about that," you say.  "With Gro'tesk attacking their flank, they'll have no choice but to concentrate in those two areas."

"We're going to be exposed over there," Hidius says while sharpening his knife.

"Trust me," you say.  "This plan will work."

"Gro'tesk, while we are setting up I want you to wait in the forest over there," you say.  "Make sure they don't see you at all."

With the plan made, you all disperse to make preparations for the upcoming battle.


As these memories flood through your mind, you realize that it doesn't matter what he was.  It just matters what he has become; and that's a murderer.  He would drag the orcish armies into the grave with him, dooming Orcin to an eternity of rule by the Mannate Empire.

Galik laughs insanely as you step forward, and you drive the sword down…

In the last moment, Galik rolls to the side and the sword slams into the dirt.  You pull, but the blade does not budge.

Standing, you cannot do anything before your foe slams into you.  His fingers dig into your shoulder as he draws a dagger from under his shirt.  He grins and chuckles as he lifts the blade up, intent on slamming it into your chest.  The dagger gleaming in the sunlight, showing you your final moments…

Galik brings the knife down, your hand shooting up just in time.  Grunting you twist and wrench the blade from his hand.  Grabbing his shoulder you shove the knife forward into his belly, as it slides through surprisingly easy.  Galik gasps, and his hands grip your shoulders.

You rip the dagger out and slam it back into him, this time some splatter decorating your forearms.  On the third strike, Galik's knees buckle and he falls back, guided by your hand.  As you kneel over him, Galik's hands grip your arms and shoulder.
> You stop
As Galik's weak hands clutch onto you, your fingers curl around the dagger tightly.  But you toss it to the side, instead lifting Galik up and cradling him.

"Why did you do this?" you ask.  "Greusim was my friend, I've known you since before you were born.  Why couldn't you just wait for me to come back, we could have handled this together."

A weak grunt passed Galik's lips, and he pulls himself up a bit.

"I'm…sorry…"

The last breath passes between his lips, and his body goes limp.  You sit there, letting out a heavy sigh.  With a grunt, you lift up Galik's body, throwing him over your shoulder.

In front of you stands Grolik, a bloody dagger in his hands.  He nods in understanding and steps to the side as you walk by.

You go down to bury your former friend by the river…