Private Tales Deposing the Warlord Gromagg Ur

[Trajan Meng]

Trajan.

A distant voice, hollow and echoing as if at the end of a tunnel. Dim awareness of pain above his brow. In his head. All throughout his chest. Dull. Throbbing.

Trajan!

He opened his eyes, yet all things were a blur. Form and color blended, and in this the lurid bleeding of the distinct and many into the inseparate and one. A dizziness intruding on his consciousness as he became more and more cognizant.

"TRAJAN!"

His eyes focused, and sharp clarity returned to the world. Khadija was over him, hands on his shoulders, locks of dark hair dangling down. The bright blue sky and scattered white clouds behind her. Her grave concern gave way to elated and smiling relief once she saw in his eyes that he had come back.

A boom from somewhere, and a spray of dirt rained down on Trajan and Khadija both, yet her joy did not abate.

She glanced back, then at him again. "Slide down. Quickly."

As if prompted by her words, the awareness came to Trajan that he was lying on an incline with a slight grade instead of flat and level ground. He didn't need to slide far with her--half his body's height, if that--and he was at the bottom of the shallow depression in the land.

"Hold still," Kha said, feverishly digging through her satchel. "Let me clean and tend the wound."

With his wits mostly regained, Trajan asked her, "Was anyone else hit?"

Shouts from the Luminari men and women up and down the trench. Rocks shot by overhead, some arcing down as if flung from catapults, some whistling straight as if fired from ballistas. Another shower of dirt upon Trajan and Kha alike.

Kha heard him, but pretended not to. Went about extracting her medical supplies. Trajan asked her again, and she paused. Hesitated.

And said, "Malick. He gave his life for the cause. Him...and Tobias."

* * * * *​

The attack on the College of Elbion ended in failure. It was a devastating blow, a heinous error in judgment that led to the deaths of ten of the Luminari's most loyal men. For this Trajan would never truly forgive himself; the error in judgment had been his, and the weight of those ten lives sacrificed without the objective being accomplished remained his sole responsibility to bear. Trajan had truly believed that the man later identified as Maho "Jerik" Sparhawk had the power and the will to carry through his assault. He did not.

Trajan spent a few days in the aftermath absorbed mostly in quiet introspection. Tragic, the deaths of the ten, but the cause was blessed--thanks to the quick work by Dio--that more did not perish. The Luminari would march on, and Trajan resolved to learn from his ghastly mistake. For the sake of the good men and women who so entrusted their lives to him and his leadership, he must.

In the wake of so crushing a defeat, there needed to be a resounding victory to rebalance the scales of morale. Trajan harbored no doubt that the Luminari would persevere even without such a victory. But even so, he felt obligated to deliver one. A triumph so inspiring that the tale of it would rise above the normal news of the Luminari's operations; a shining example of the undeniable truth and power inherent in the cause. Something the most remote of cells would hear in time and celebrate in kind with all the rest.

And it was Tobias who gave Trajan the opportunity he sought.

Trajan had solicited his faithful in and around Elbion for specific threats of encroaching xenos that they may have knowledge of. Tobias, a newer recruit, spoke up fervently. He was from across the Gulf of Liad, his hometown of Raddica one of many human settlements along the coast of the Taagi Baara Steppes. And a nomadic orcish tribe, which at one time had been peaceful and even traded with Raddica, had turned to villainy. This tribe, the Urmgarr, had raided Tobias's hometown. Taken spoils and slaves--of which his brother Jeremiah was one--and fled like dogs before a proper defense could be mounted. This having happened only within the last two months.

And thus Trajan had his mission. Rescue the captives from the clutches of the Urmgarr, and depose their chieftain turned warlord, Gromagg Ur.

Trajan put out the call through Dio's avian network, and just over a hundred believers--good men and women all--volunteered. And there would have been far more, had these others not been currently engaged in far-flung operari of their own. The thunderous conviction and support for Tobias, the plight of his hometown, Jeremiah and indeed all of those cruelly taken, warmed Trajan's heart. This was what he and they were fighting for. This was the true spirit of the cause. This was the boundless kinship and power of Mankind united.

Armed and armored, Trajan and his century of Luminari warriors--Khadija Han and Dio Rico among them--set sail across the Gulf. Landed in Raddica and inquired of the tribe's potential whereabouts and set out into the Steppe. Kilo, one of Dio's birds, proved instrumental in with his scouting. The Urmgarr were sighted by the macaw as having camped on the other side of a shallow river. Kha, for her part, spent the journey exhausting herself as she enchanted lavastone after lavastone; she had come up with a cunning plan.

And the day came when Trajan and his Luminari warband closed in on the Urmgarr camp. Now, he and his faithful were embroiled in battle on either side of the river.

* * * * *​

Trajan sat still and allowed Kha to wrap the gash that tore alongside his forehead and his left temple. Luminari warriors packed into the small depression stood up straight and exposed over the defilade with their longbows readied and there came the command of "Loose!" and a barrage of arrows were sent sailing over the hundred/hundred and twenty meter width of the river and its shores.

"His spirit will live on in us," Trajan said quietly, speaking of Tobias. "And we will not fail him."

The terrible news of Tobias's sacrifice was difficult to hear, yes, but the battle against the xenos was far from finished--the time for grieving would come later. In accordance with Kha's plan, they would stay on their side of the river, loosing arrows upon the orcs' camp in an effort to provoke the xenos into attacking. And they could charge, the river on either shore was ankle deep, the waters in the center perhaps up to the waists of the massive orcs.

But the orcs had some cunning of their own. Out from the hide huts and tents of the camp had come five geomancers, old orcs with command of earth and rock. They had summoned personal berms of dirt for protection and called the plentiful rocks and pebbles along their shore of the river and coalesced them into giant fragmenting orbs before launching them at the Luminari line. One of the geomancers had been struck by a well-aimed arrow (Trajan dearly hoping that it had been one of Tobias's) and was dragged away by other orcs. Four others. To wound or kill or outlast as their arcane fatigue mounted. Then these savages would have no choice but to charge.

Trajan and the Luminari had done well to leave their horses and their supply wagons some distance behind them, lest these geomancers wreak havoc upon them. And fortunate still that the depression on their side of the river formed a natural trench, and it maintained enough room for all hundred plus of his believers and then some. The rugged land of the Steppe at last in their favor.

"Down!" shouted one of the faithful.

Khadija, selflessly, threw herself on top of Trajan and the two of them went flat at the bottom of the depression. More rocks whistled by, striking the earth about the Luminari position and erupting geysers of dirt signaled their points of impact. Kha sat up again, as did Trajan.

Flushed and flustered, she said quickly, "Sorry, sorry. I didn't want--"

"You're alright, Kha," said Trajan. "Finish tending my wound."

"Right."

Blood cleaned and salves applied, she began wrapping the bandage around his head.

And neither Trajan nor Kha nor any of the Luminari knew that someone had been following after them. Seeking Trajan out. Destined to come upon them in the midst of this harrowing battle.

Madame Valkery

 

[Madame Valkery]

Valkery's attempts to fight the cult of Bastellen and free her former student had ended in failure. Bandages wrapped all the way up her left arm, mostly hidden by the long sleeves and high collar of her blouse but the bandages on her neck and around her hand were visible. She had almost lost two of her fingers to frostbite. Her medical knowledge and magic had been the only things that save them. She had done what she could to accelerate the healing of the cold burns but the damage was extensive. Even now feeling had not fully returned to her arm and the pain prevented full range of motion. Her clothes were simpler than usual, a white blouse and black tight-fitting trousers. She still wore her large hat, Though the hair that peered out from under it seemed thin and whispy, and her intense gaze held a weariness to it that had been absent before.

This was the woman that walked through the Stepps in search of a former ally. She sensed the recent passage of a large gathering of people through the space, over a hundred, all human. That would be who she was looking for. That was where she was told she would find Trajan.

The air seemed still and quiet. The silence seeming to hum with an invisible energy. It was a strangely familiar feeling. The feeling of an absence of life, that tension before a storm. Nature knew that what was happening ahead was not natural. War never was.

As she approached she started to hear the distant sounds of battle. Even at this distance, she could feel a powerful use of magic, faint but present. She saw the supply carts and horses, and the few who had been left behind to guard it.

A young man stood talking to a woman near a cart. When they noticed her they jumped and drew their weapons.

"Easy Brother, sister," Valkery said nodding calmly to the both of them in turn, "Put up your weapons, I am a friend of Trajan's I am here to assist in this honorable cause," She said, the indoctrinated language flowing effortlessly from her lips.

They both hesitated for a moment then put up their weapons with an apology. "Sorry, we weren't expecting any more allies to join us. What is your name sister, I haven't had the pleasure of meeting you," The man said.

"Madam Valkery. Is Trajan already on the battlefield?" She asked. The woman nodded. Valkery glanced in the direction of the distant sounds of battle. It sounded so familiar. Was she really about to walk back into this? The last time she had fought on the field of battle it had been out of necessity to drive back the demons and pandemonium. This was different. This was her choice. She had left this life behind long ago, she was no longer a weapon for her superiors to use. But did she really have the luxury to chose? Trajan was a powerful ally and her only chance at receiving aid in her fight against the void. If she was to rescue her student then she needed his aid. She needed to fight.

She turned back to the two. "Do you have any spare armor?" She asked.

______________

Several minutes later she approached the field of battle, a chain mail shirt pulled over her clothes, Her belt and sheath strapped over it. Pauldrons protected both shoulders, armor covered most of her left arm to compensate for its loss of mobility and a half breastplate covered her upper chest and back. She still wore the hat, despite its impracticality. It served a double purpose, it held the six-inch silver hat pin that served as a backup weapon, and it also shielded her half-elven nature from those around her. At this moment that was vital to her survival.

As she neared the battle she drew her sword and closed her eyes, the sounds of massive stones impacting the field, shouts, orders and occasional screams. She could feel all of it. Her senses were vibrating. So much energy in one place. Death had a way of doing that. Her aura reserves were full, they would not run dry in a place like this for a long time. For a moment the feelings and sounds lingered in her memory and she felt her heart begin to keep pace with the flood of adrenalin, an inkling of fear. The memory of a superior officer shouting orders at her. Then she was back in the present.

She opened her eyes and began to crouch and run. Avoiding falling debris long before it came near the ground. She joined a group in the trench. They were only momentarily surprised by her appearance but were quickly preoccupied by the attacking enemy across the water. She peered over the edge of the trench for a moment before popping back undercover.

Orcs... They were fighting orcs. For what purpose? She could be of no help here until she found out what the goal was. "I must find Trajan." She demanded of the soldier that pressed against the natural cover of the trench beside her.

"Last we heard he was up that way," He said pointing up the trench. Valkery nodded her thanks before running at a crouch along the trench moving around the pockets of Luminari taking cover and returning the orc's rain of stone with arrows.

She felt him before she noticed him, a familiar presence. There was a woman blocking her view. She also felt somewhat familiar but she couldn't place it. Wait, was Trajan injured?

"Sister, is he alright?" She demanded, dropping down on one knee beside her so she could get a better look at Trajan. She was out of practice, the chaos of the battlefield now clouded the precision of her senses but under calmer circumstances, she would have known immediately what was wrong with him. Now the past clawed at her causing her to momentarily forget the progress she had made.

 

[Trajan Meng]

A voice he had not heard in some time. A voice to which he had promised to lend his aid in the defense of Mankind. A voice that would return for said aid once her research was complete.

Madame Valkery.

Kha glanced over at her, confused and even a touch overprotective of Trajan, but in short time she came to recognize her face from before, back in the warehouse on the Elbion harbor, and relaxed. Fittingly, those twelve mercenaries who had listened to Trajan's speech and spoke with Khadija afterward in that very same warehouse were all here now, the group of them having pledged to the Luminari. They fought along with their newfound brothers and sisters in the trench.

"It is good to see a friend here," Trajan said, raising his voice over the whistling of rock fragments sailing by overhead and crashing of them into the earth above the depression. "It is a testament to your resourcefulness that you should find us here in so remote and forsaken a place."

"He should be fine," Kha said, answering her question. She finished wrapping the bandage and cut the end from the roll and tucked the end securely into the folds. "I stopped the bleeding of his head wound." Then, to Trajan with a note of concern, "Are you hurt anywhere else?"

"My chest." He immediately waved off Kha from turning her attention back to her satchel for further medical supplies. "I'll live. My brigandine deflected much of the blow."

("Nock!" came the command down the Luminari line, and the warriors nocked arrows and readied their longbows.)

Kha went to go and retrieve Trajan's longbow and his warhammer for him. And meanwhile, Trajan said, "I have not forgotten what we discussed, Valkery. We shall speak again of it. After. Presently, I've my duties to which I must attend. And your aid would be most welcome."

("Loose!" and the Luminari faithful all let another volley of arrows sail across the river and rain down into the Urmgarr's camp.)

Trajan quickly summarized to Valkery his mission out here in the Steppe. The Urmgarr tribe, their raid on Raddica, the captive slaves, his intent to eliminate Gromagg Ur, the battle plan to provoke the Urmgarr warriors into charging across the river (mentioning "Kha's surprise" for them). And, most important at the moment, the now four geomancers bombarding their position from across the river and how they needed to be slain or otherwise incapacitated.

Kha came back. Handed Trajan his longbow and set his warhammer down near him on the ground.

 

[Madame Valkery]

So this was their goal. They needed to stop the geomancers. She nodded firmly in understanding and glanced back up in the direction of the orc camp. If she could get close enough it would be easy. No, not now, it was too risky. Remember, the simplest solution is usually the right one. The orcs were too far away for her to clearly sense their aura but she could feel the concentration of magical energy they were harnessing.

She turned back to Trajan, her hard features suddenly softening. "You say your chest is hurt," She placed a hand on his shoulder. She channeled her aura to speed his natural healing, reduce bleeding and bruising and lessen pain.

The hardness returned to her eyes as quickly as it had gone as a stone crashed into the ground above their location. A shower of dirt rained down on them. Valkery didn't even flinch. She turned her attention back to the attackers. If only her arm was not injured she would be able to use a bow... did they have any crossbows?

"Trajan, I need a crossbow." Her words somewere between a demand and an order. "I can make the shot."

 

[Trajan Meng]

Madame Valkery's magic, her manipulation of "auras," was no less astounding now than it was back during the Pandemonium crisis. The immediate effect he could feel was a dampening of the pain, but he assumed that there was more happening beneath his armor and tunic.

"You have my thanks," Trajan said. Even his breathing came easier now.

And Valkery had need of a crossbow, and in the confidence she expressed through her tone and the succinctness of her words Trajan did not doubt her. If she said she could make the shot, she could do it. While the Luminari was indeed blessed with the natural trench on their side, those geomancers had their own cover--their summoned earthen berms--which made it extremely difficult for even the most accurate of the Luminari sharpshooters to find their mark. Volume of fire was their only counter, but thus far they had in several volleys merely taken out one of the five of the geomancers. Cunning xenos.

Far down to Trajan's right side in the depression, one of the geomancers coalesced balls of rock came whistling down from a high arc and slammed into the flat ground of the trench and fragmented fiercely and immediately five Luminari men and women went down. They writhed and shouted in pain and agony, clutching at the backs of their heads, their torsos, legs. From far across the river, yells in Steppe-Orcish dialect carried across the gap.

Those geomancers needed to be felled. Now.

"We came with mostly longbows for range," Trajan said to Valkery, "but yes, we did also bring with us some crossbows and bolts."

"I can fetch Dio," Kha said, nodding down the trench to Trajan's left. "Have him send a bird back to the supply wagons, and they can--"

"No."

(Again the general command of "Nock!" down the line. Somewhere close, one warrior said to his eagle-eyed friend, "There he is! There he is! Loose on that xeno bastard!")

Kha stared at him. Then, as she realized, her expression melted into a slow burn of worry.

And Trajan said, "I will do it. I will make the run back to the wagons. This I cannot ask of any man or woman here, for the danger is mine to face."

"Trajan..." Kha's voice, low with an aghast tenor. "Don't--"

He disregarded her anxiety, looking to Valkery with adamant visage. "I believe in you, sister. For Mankind."

And with that, Trajan stood and quickly hustled up the rear side of the trench and onto open ground. The command of "Loose!" behind him, and the Luminari warriors sent their latest righteous volley sailing across the river. Trajan broke into a sprint, stomping through the soil and grass of the rugged Steppe, the sinister whistling of countless fragments of rock to either side and overhead and some deadly close to his ear and plumes of dust and dirt both incredibly tiny and massively large and all in-between erupting near and far as he ran.

Kha hazarded a look up and over the ridge of the trench, but squatted back down. Glanced to Valkery incredulously. Then said, as if in an attempt to convince herself more than anything, "You made it. He'll make it too. Think about it."

 

[Madame Valkery]

Valkery blinked and glanced back at Khadija, expressionless. The woman's logic was flawed. Valkery had made it because she was able to sense the projectiles coming long before they got near and move out of the way. A non-magical human's chance of making it was greatly reduced. However, from what she had seen of Trajan, he was not your ordinary human. Sometimes he made it seem as if willpower itself was almost a form of magic. Perhaps he could make it happen.

Valkery ducked around Kah to where the five Luminari had been struck by the geomancer's attack. She could sense that two of them were already dead, the other two were quickly bleeding out from a head and torso wounds. The last man had been a bit further away. He had stone shrapnel in his torso, shoulder, and leg but shrapnel had stayed in the wounds keeping him from bleeding out immediately. There was nothing Valkery could do about the others but this man had a chance.

She knelt down next to him. "Hold still," She ordered as she took a pair of tweezers and a clean cloth from the bag at her hip. She twisted the rag up and gave it to the man instructing him to bite down on it. She would use aura magic to lessen the pain and slow the bleeding but it would still hurt. She worked quickly, removing the stone lodged deep in the wounds, cleaning, and stitching them shut before wrapping them in bandages. The man cried out through clenched teeth, eyes watering as more stones crashed into the earth all around them. Valkery worked quickly and quietly, concentrating her aura on keeping him from bleeding out before she finished, her fingers growing sticky with blood. She wiped them off on her trousers whenever her grip on the needle became too slippery.

When she had finished she looked up at Kahdija, her face still expressionless. "He will live now. So long as the battle allows it. When the bombardment stops someone should get him back to the camp."

 

[Trajan Meng]

Trajan ran.

Ran until the booms of the geomancers' volleys and the thick pattering of dirt splashing back down to the ground from their impacts fell ever more quiet behind him. Until he was out of range of the xenos' arcane assault. Until he neared the herd of hobbled horses and the few supply wagons at the crest of the long and shallow incline that was more a gentle mound than proper hill. Until he came close to the incredulous faces of the few men and women left to mind the horses and guard the wagons.

They gathered around him, saying his name, looking amazed and aghast at the same time. Trajan bent over, hands on his knees, caught his breath, wiped the sweat from his brow and said after some moments, "Crossbow. I need a crossbow and quiver of bolts."

Without hesitation, one of the wagon guards went searching and produced both. And as Trajan caught his breath further, he instructed that the bolts in the quiver be tied together and the quiver put back; the last thing he wanted was to, through some mishap, have the quiver full of bolts spill and scatter their contents during the run back. The wagon guard tied together the bolts with leather cord into a firm bundle and handed them to Trajan. He took them, slung the crossbow cross-body from his shoulder, and turned back.

Now, in the run back, he would see if blind fortune still shined its light upon him.

One last gulp of rested breath, and Trajan ran again. He crossed easily the stretch of land between the wagons and the apparent maximum range of the geomancers' rock volleys. But the line between safety and hazard was not so clearly defined. Ahead, he could see the rocks hurled from across the river at the Luminari trench, some of the orbs fragmenting while in flight, others on impact with the ground; some falling short or sailing beyond the trench, some landing deadly close.

And it was those rocks sailing beyond the trench that now imperiled him.

A veritable boulder landed beyond the trench and blasted apart, the plume of its impact far ahead of Trajan but the fragments of rock whistling past him, some coming close enough to tear at the sleeves of his tunic.

Trajan, the bundle of bolts in his right hand, held out his left hand. Cast his Ward, and like the heat shimmer in the distance of a summer day, it manifested in front of him as he ran. A measure of protection.

A particularly round rock from another impact and fragmentation went rolling across the ground and--though slowed by the Ward--smacked into Trajan's foot and made him lose his balance and stumble forward and necessitate him catching himself with his left hand. He recovered. Kept his momentum and kept running and recast his Ward.

PHHHHHHHEEEEWWWWW.

Coming down from a high arc he heard it. And then from the force of the impact beside him and just barely out of the range of his frontal Ward, he was thrown off his feet and he fell completely down onto his left side as a shower of dust and dirt drifted over him. Somewhere not so far he heard Kha yelling his name. And he groaned. Pushed himself back up and onto his feet--

As if aimed directly at him, a rock the size of his fist slammed squarely into his chest and severely dented one of the metal plates of his brigandine and knocked him down onto his back and--in forcing him to meet the ground in this rough manner--stole all the wind from his lungs.

Trajan blinked. Once. Several times. The crossbow beneath him ensuring that he lay in an awkwardly arched position, his chest once again flaring with pain reignited, it took him a moment to gather himself. Another rock, much smaller, skipped off of his body as he lay, mostly harmless.

He had to clench his teeth. Summon all the righteous fervor to press on as he could. And he willed himself once more through his daze to stand. A spray of small rocks and small plumes of dust before him. This, and the trench.

Again he ran. One final dash in a merciful lull of enemy action and he slid down into the depression and rejoined the Luminari in cover. There were some cheers and shouts among the men and women, but not for his return: They'd felled another of the geomancers. Three to go.

Kha and Valkery were by some of the wounded (and, sadly, some of the dead). Almost all the color had drained from Kha's face, but she seemed relieved nonetheless that he had returned. Keeping low, Trajan went to them. He handed over the bundle of bolts and unslung the crossbow (blessedly undamaged) and presented it to Valkery as well.

"Here," Trajan said. "Do your work."

"Avenge them, sister," Kha said, with a reforged iron in her tone.

Trajan--not the best shot with a longbow--resolved instead to assist Valkery in whatever manner she might require. And, as well, it was always a pleasure to witness the righteous work of a particularly gifted woman, or man, in the service of a cause which transcended them both.

 

[Madame Valkery]

once Valkery finished treating the man she turned and looked back as Trajan sprinted through the onslaught of falling earth towards them. He was knocked down more than once and she watched Kah's reaction. She could tell she had feelings for Trajan, whether they were romantic, platonic, or something else she could not tell. She had always found those types of emotions hard to understand.

Trajan reached them and handed her the crossbow. She took it and started loading. "Ready your archers to loss once the enemy's defenses are down." She said lining up her shot. She couldn't see her target, she didn't have too, she could feel the strong well of magical energy telling her exactly where it was. She aimed high, ignoring the pain in her left arm as she set the crossbow in position and loosed. Before the bolt hit its target she was lining up another shot and loosed. The first bolt hit it's mark and the berm went down. She loosed again just as the second shot made contact and the shield of earth collapsed, the third bolt soon following. The enemy was exposed. Valkery felt the strength of magic weaken one of them was dead the other two injured. She looked at Trajan and nodded "It is done."

 

[Trajan Meng]

"On my command!" Trajan shouted.

Up and down the line the cell leaders all nodded in affirmation. They instructed their believers to nock arrows and make ready. And Trajan nodded then to Valkery, peering over the top of the trench as she aimed. He had thought that she might use some form of magical assistance to guide her shots, or that, perhaps, she was what many in the Guard called a "deadeye." That she would succeed where his own marksmen were having difficulties.

The truth of the matter was astounding.

At first Trajan assumed that she had missed. Then, as the first bolt blew apart the earthen berm that the xenos cowered behind, a rush of triumph filled him. Down went the second and the third berms, leaving one of the geomancers flat on the ground, and the other two reeling.

"Loose!" Trajan called, wasting no time.

Kha, still amazed and quite visibly intrigued to the point of giddiness, said aloud, "Ha! Gods, Valkery, you ought to come around more. Do you like tea? I like tea. I'll make you some."

The arrows arced down on the other side of the river and saturated the ground even further, showering swift death onto the exposed orc spellcasters. No less than five arrows for each of them, and they, having weathered volley after volley, fell to their deaths in a veritable field of arrows lodged in the dirt around them.

Cheers and hoots and hollers went up from the Luminari warriors, but Trajan himself kept a stern face. He crouched down and picked up his own longbow, leaving his warhammer on the ground for now. He anticipated what was coming next.

And he did not need to wait long. Enraged shouts in Orcish carried across the gap of the wide river, and darting flashes of movement could be seen amidst the hovels and huts. Then, after a moment of apparent stillness and quiet, a horn bellowed from somewhere in the camp.

All at once they emerged, spilling out of the camp from places unseen like a spontaneous plague of murderous green bloodlust embodied. They came running and roaring in a massive but disorganized rush, a true berserker charge. The enormous orcish warriors had an barbaric menagerie of weapons and armor, some obviously looted and some crudely crafted of their filthy xeno make. Some had primitive shields of hide, some had looted chainmail, and a good many of them were stark naked, their bodies painted with mysterious blue symbols that contrasted against their green skin. In their warcries it was plain to Trajan that they were a true savage horde, bent on nothing but utter destruction and mayhem.

And it was clear to see that these orcish fiends outnumbered the Luminari at least two-to-one.

"Hold your ground and fire at will!" Trajan commanded, and his men and women obeyed. Though they were all running low on arrows, this was the moment to use the remainder of them.

And, as arrows were loosed in a steady barrage and some orcs fell and some were hit and nevertheless raged on as if nothing had happened, Kha couldn't help but to grin widely. The orcish berserker rush was slowed briefly by the relatively deep center of the river as the orcs had to wade through, but soon! Soon! They could close on the Luminari trench soon!

"It's going to be magnificent!" Kha said with an adoring excitement.

And, after loosing an arrow of his own (unfortunately wounding but not slaying the orc he had hit), Trajan looked to Valkery and said with a small hint of a smirk, "When they reach our line, wait for the smoke to clear. Then, sister, we will advance, and finish this."

For Tobias. For all those the Urmgarr tribe and Gromagg Ur had wronged.

 

[Madame Valkery]

Valkery's vision tunneled as the cry rose up from the other side of the river and the orc's began their charge. She loaded her crossbow again. She could not sense the common fighters but she could see them. That would be enough. She aimed and pulled the trigger, loading as soon as the bolt was loosed, in swift succession as they charged towards them. Three were felled and two were badly injured their blood mixing with the water. Kah was speaking but she bearly registered it. The woman wasn't making much sense anyway. She felt Trajan come up beside her. Wait for the smoke to clear. "Understood." She said sighting down her crossbow and letting loose. The bolt taking an orc out through the eye.

Orc's were one of the more difficult opponents she had to face. Unlike Humans or elves, she did not have as much medical knowledge about them. She knew a hit through the eye, the throat, the heart and a spot near where a human's spleen would be were all target points for rapid death. But even these were not easy to achieve. The amount of muscle and stamina an orc possessed meant that they could keep going with multiple injuries. Her lack of medical knowledge also meant that she could not use her usual magical tactic of cutting off their air supply and choaking them out. This would not be easy. Her combat was based on precision and speed, not strength. She would have to be careful.

She sighted down the shaft and loosed her last bolt as the first of the orc's reached the other side.

 

[Trajan Meng]

Valkery, in addition to her arcane ability, might well be one of those aforementioned deadeyes. Trajan himself had injured the one orc, missed twice, and injured a second in the same inconsequential manner as the first. Where, meanwhile, Valkery, had killed three--now four--of the xeno degenerates and critically wounded another two, those two falling behind in the green charge. Trajan simply was not a good shot. Never had been. And this was fine. No single man or woman was perfect--far from it. But with unity, all weaknesses were covered by another's strength.

And this was how they would defeat these orcish savages this day. Outnumbered, unevenly matched in size and strength and endurance warrior to warrior, Mankind would nevertheless shine through, and shine brightly.

"Here they come!" Kha shouted.

The orcish berserkers, those uninjured by the withering arrow fire and those whose rage propelled them through such injuries, began to emerge on their side of the shallow river. Great splashes of water and foam precipitated their final charge toward the Luminari trench. In the imminent closeness of their assault, a renewed and unanimous roar thundered from the horde.

And this roar was immediately drowned out in explosions and torrents of dust.

All across the front of the trench and in an asynchronous manner, Kha's enchanted lavastones activated upon the close proximity of the charging orcs. They had been meticulously arranged prior to the battle, and now they unleashed their magical payloads in exclusively frontal plumes of fire, cataclysmic sprays of ice shards, and fierce forked lightning. The raw force of these arcane traps exploding kicked up the torrents of dust and rocks and pebbles from the shores of the river, and in this hellish veil all of the orcs were consumed, those leading the charge surely bearing the most grievous of this deadly barrage.

The warcries of the orcs had noticeably stopped once the clamor of the arcane traps exploding ceased. The prevailing winds of the Steppe carried the veil of disturbed dust parallel along the front of the trench, as if nature herself had colluded with the Luminari.

Khadija was grinning. Dry washing her hands with glowing jubilation at the success of her laborious work.

Trajan cast away his longbow. Crouched and picked up his warhammer and held it in both hands. Stared forward into the airborne dust with a heavy yet satisfied gaze.

While not looking at Valkery specifically, he nevertheless said to her, "I do not go to seek the slaughter. But I will deliver it in the service of righteousness, and in the defense of those I love dearly."

Up and down the Luminari line the other believers were setting aside their ranged weapons and making ready for close combat. Those who were sharpshooters kept theirs and jumped onto the back ridge of the depression, pulling arrows from their quivers and nocking them.

Voices. In orcish. Shouts from multiple places and distances within the fading cloud of dust. Shouts of rage, shouts of panic, shouts of pain, shouts of terror, even shouts of grief.

Out from the veil of dispersing dust a lone orc warrior, clad in a loincloth and wielding dual hatchets. His face was a red mess of blood, cavernous and vacated holes where once his eyes had been. Arrows protruded from his chest, his arms. Ice spikes in his legs. He stumbled forward, swinging his hatchets with a weak and desperate wildness. He was saying something in orcish, his chest short of breath, his tone defiant. Somewhere far down the Luminari line one of the men laughed at the sight.

Two of the sharpshooters loosed two arrows into the orc's chest. Still he came.

And he stumbled in his blind daze toward Trajan and Valkery. Swinging his hatchets with trembling arms.

 

[Madame Valkery]

The orc's reached the shore and there was a burst of magical explosive force as all the lava stones went off at once. The plum of smoke went up but Valkery felt the massive wall of magical energy that lanched itself at the orcs. She put down the crossbow and drew her sword watching the line of smoke and dust, more feeling the presence of the orcs as they moved into her range of perception than actually saw them with her eyes.

She heard Trajan talking to her but his words didn't fully register her face remaining expressionless. what was the point of philosophizing in the middle of battle? War was war and death was death one did what they had to there was nothing good about it. It just was.

There was a silence but Valkery could feel a wave of pain and death, anger, shock, and anguish. All-powerful emotions that feed her magic. Then the cries came. The smoke began to clear and something staggered towards them. She felt it before she saw it. When she finally did see it all she could think was to end it's suffering. It just refused to die.

She placed a hand on the upper edge of the trench and lept out onto the bank standing in front of the orc, what was left of it. She knew it could not see her. All she could do was to end this. She took two steps toward it "You fought well," She said, her voice gentile "You can rest now," He seemed to falter and stopped waving his weapons as he turned towards the voice. She came closer, "Join your ancestors at the feasting table, you died a warriors death." She was now standing directly in front of him and all of his fight seemed to have drained from him and the hatchets falling from his hands. If he still had eyes he might have cried with relief. There was a squelch as Valkery ran him through the heart.

"Who are you?" He gasped with his dying breath as he slumped down her blade towards her ear.

"The White Reaper," She breathed before pulling back and drawing her sword from his chest as he slumped to the ground. Bloodstained the blade crimson and ran down the hilt onto her hand as she turned back to look at Trajan, a weariness and age behind her eyes that did not match the youth of her body.

 

[Trajan Meng]

Valkery hopped out of the trench, and this prompted Trajan to look up and down the line at the cell leaders who, likewise, were looking at him. With a small sideways nod of his head toward the front of the trench and a leap of his own out of it, his command was wordlessly given. The cell leaders called out their own commands, and the Luminari warriors climbed out of the depression. Shields first, those armed with polearms and longbows in the back rank of the long formation.

A few steps forward, and Trajan came up behind Valkery. The White Reaper. He had not heard Valkery speak of this name before, so far as he could recall, but it suited her quite well. An occult hunter who, as Trajan himself had said before, was someone whom the wicked had to fear. She had the ability and the drive to go above and beyond the call of duty to Mankind, and, from what Trajan had seen of Valkery--the White Reaper--thus far, he did not doubt that she had not yet even begun to shine.

Yet the look back she gave arrested him for a moment. He had seen it before. Perhaps given it himself to certain inexperienced or overeager young men, as he had once been years ago.

It was a look in which the weight of things carried was encapsulated. The grim burden of one's eyes. One's ears. One's hands.

And it was all Trajan could do to simply look back at her. To regard and acknowledge. No words would suffice. They never did.

But the small quiet of that moment would not last. The roused dust thinned rapidly, and the shapes of the orc warriors became tangible as visibility returned. A vast swath of them had been wounded or killed by the barrage of arrows and Khadija's traps; their numbers cut down by a solid half. Some of the dead and wounded lay flat on the pebbles and rocks near the shore of the river, half-submerged. A few corpses had been caught in the current of the deeper middle and were being carried away; one orc, desperately, was calling out and wading through the river after one of them.

A good number of the remaining orcs who could still stand had clearly lost their will to fight. They talked to one another in their guttural language, some dropping their weapons, some falling down to their knees, some ignoring the Luminari formation completely as they tended to their fellow xenos.

But some, a good thirty to forty of them, were furious. Enraged at the Luminari, enraged--apparently--by the unwillingness of the other orcs to fight. They bellowed to their fellow warriors, pointed, trying to rouse and perhaps coerce them into fighting, but only a handful more joined them. The larger number of those orcs still alive--wounded or no--preferred surrender.

And those thirty to forty orcs formed their own line. Roared. And charged. That small remaining number against the some one hundred Luminari warriors.

"Brace!" Trajan called out to the men and women in the shield line. He and Valkery were in front, flanked on both sides by the Luminari shield wall.

Valkery, he trusted, would do well on her own.

As the orcish assault smashed into the Luminari line, two of the orcs had come specifically for Trajan and Valkery alike. The one leaped at Trajan, battleaxe held high over his head, bestial rage inoculating him against fear.

Trajan slammed the head of his warhammer into the open palm of his left hand, and his very skin became metal; this was what he had been saving his Iron Skin spell for. The orc's battleaxe crashed down on Trajan's head but was deflected without significant harm. Trajan felled the berserker with a few quick and precise strikes to vital points: gut, knees, and then caving his skull in.

And, thus far, the Luminari line held valiantly.

 

[Madame Valkery]

Valkery turned back to the enemy lines as she felt the orc's form their own line preparing for a charge. She braced her heel against the earth and took a deep grounding breath. Her senses sharpened, everything in a three-hundred-sixty radius standing out with scalpel precision against the backdrop. The cry of rage and anguish ringing in her ears as the orcish line charged. An orc came at her with a poleax, she ducked inward and brought her left arm up. The shaft met the mettle with a crack and Valery felt a jolt of pain run up and down her arm eyes watering as she lunged driving her blade into the orcs abdomen. The orc brought the butt of the shaft up towards her chest and face. She pulled back the shaft passing inches from her face.

The orc was still dripping from the waist down from crossing the river. Valkery focused her aura and the water started to freeze over. Not enough to do damage directly but enough to slow him down. The orc cried out in shock and anger swinging the poleax down at her head. She ducked out and around behind him grabbing his arm for leverage as she drove her blade up through the base of his skull. She withdrew the blade and the orc collapsed at her feet to join the one Trajan had slane.

She felt a wave of pain wash over her, her knee threatening to buckle and tears pricking at her eyes. A tear cut a path through the dust on her face and she used her aura to lessen the pain in an attempt to encourage healing. Why did it hurt so much, she had felt worse pain in her fight with Eleanor and the Cult. She had not lost her composure then. Why now? This was no time to ask questions. She glanced at Trajan. It was only a split second but there was a vulnerability in it, a questioning, looking for an answer or direction. She turned away, back to the battle but it was almost over.

 

[Trajan Meng]

The numbers advantage, having shifted severely from the Urmgarr to the Luminari, weighed heavily upon the orcish berserkers. They fought against the Luminari line fiercely--madly, mouths dripping with a foaming froth of rage in some cases--but were quickly surrounded and overwhelmed by the surplus of warriors against them. The Luminari shieldwall held, billhooks and longaxes struck from above, longbowmen flanked and got easy shots on exposed orcs, and swords from behind and from the side felled all those orcs who had charged in short order. Among the Luminari, a dozen or more were wounded--one critically so--but not were outright killed.

Trajan held his own in the battle, protected by his Iron Skin, having felled the one orc who had come for him specifically and assisting in the slaying of another to his left. But the battle did not last long. Minutes--and not many--at most.

The Iron Skin spell faded, and Trajan's flesh returned to normal. He turned briefly to spot Valkery and, as he suspected, she was alright and there was a slain orc dead at her feet. He thought he had seen something, that he had missed something, some look or a quick word that had gone unheard. But she seemed fine, fine as one could be in a day such as this, so he quickly sought to attend to matters of leadership.

"Dio!" he called out.

And Dio, from one end of the Luminari line of warriors, came running up to him. He gave a small nod of recognition to Madame Valkery, then shifted his attention to Trajan.

"Dio," Trajan said, "send a bird back to the wagons. Have them send a couple of runners with satchels of medical supplies here."

"Right away!"

"Khadija," Trajan said.

She came up from the back rank, stood ready to hear him.

"Kha, we shall disarm these surrendered xenos and keep them here on this side of the river. Select a detachment of three dozen believers to stay and watch them and keep our wounded safe." A hard edge in his next command. "If any of these xenos shows the slightest sign of resistance or hostility, kill them."

Kha glanced beyond Trajan toward the wounded and surrendered orcs along the shore and the shallow waters of the river. Some were already down on their knees, some were sitting, some were lying down and suffering varying degrees of agony from their wounds. But, fortunately, they all had that look of simultaneous hope and fear, their fighting spirit broken. Yet Trajan knew well not to put too much faith in such complicit displays from xenos.

And Kha nodded to him. Said, "It will be done."

Trajan then, as Dio sent off his bird and Kha began picking her three dozen for guard duty, turned back to Valkery. Said, "Forgive my ignorance if I am in error, but can you distinguish between human and xeno auras, Valkery? Can you sense them via proximity?"

He shifted briefly his eyes across the river and toward the Urmgarr camp. The captives, the warlord, the rest of the tribe, and who knew what else awaited the Luminari faithful in there.

Eyes back to Valkery. "No human captive will be left in the clutches of these savage xenos, but know neither their number nor where exactly they are being held. You may prove invaluable in this regard."

If not, Trajan and his faithful would turn that camp upside-down, search every last tent and hut. Yes, the warlord Gromagg Ur would be slain, and not one human would be left behind here. Nothing short of that could be called a victory.

 

[Madame Valkery]

Valkery slowly looked over the carnage. Some of their own had been hurt but the damage to the enemy was devastating. The thick smell of iron and stomach fluid and human excrement filled the air. It was all too familiar. Glancing around Valkery quickly checked the auras of the fallen orcs around her for life signs. The ones she felt were quickly fading and unable to be any kind of threat. She then turned to Trajan, and stood tall and stonefaced, feet shoulder-width apart, her sword held point down in front of her as she listened to him give orders to his people. He then turned to her.

Valkery nodded "I can sense everything within a fifteen-foot radius with absolute clarity, this includes the true racial identity of the target. Beyond that, I can sense blurred impressions up to twenty-five feet. Anything beyond that I can only sense the strongest auras, for example, the use of powerful magic, the moment of death, or very strong emotions. These senses are not limited by barriers. If I was close enough I could tell you exactly how many individuals were in a tent and their races," She explained. What she did not say was that she knew that by using life aura she could expand her range. However, she had already broken her vow never to use that magic again, she was not about to do it again, the price was too high. Or was it? it had been that same magic that had allowed her to prevent the void from completely devouring her. The damage the life aura had done to her was minimal. Painful yes, but in small doses, not life-threatening. The amount she needed to do this was small. If she was going to save Eleanor and defeat the cult Life aura was one of the few things that could stand against the void. She couldn't keep running from this magic even if it destroyed her. But not just yet. She needed to wait for the right moment.

She glanced back at the orc camp, it was too far away for her to sense much of anything "I can lead a group in an assault and rescue mission on the camp." She turned back to Trajan. "Or, if you feel my skills are best served, I can stay by your side and assist with overall tactics," She explained.

 

[Trajan Meng]

Valkery could, indeed, detect the humans captives among their orcish tormentors with her aura magic.

"Good," said Trajan. "The quicker we finish this, the better. For our sakes and the sakes of those held captive." A throaty hmph. "There is no telling when these supposedly pacified xenos will regain their thirst for wanton destruction and bloodshed."

Kha and her selected three dozen had begun to collect the weapons of the orc warriors and toss them back into the trench, a makeshift pile of them forming down there. Despite the language barrier--for they did not speak Orcish and the orcs seemed not to speak Common--they instructed via simple and rough gestures for the surrendered orcs to gather and sit down in the dirt and the pebbles at the edge of the river's water. Those that were too far wounded to move, likely those who were well on their way to death, were left to lay as they were. Scattered. Breathing and bleeding slowly.

"Stay by my side," Trajan said to Valkery, turning his attention from Kha and her progress then. "I would very much like to have your keen senses close at hand. The citizens of Raddica spoke of Gromagg Ur as if he were some manner of..." Briefly, he thought of Pandemonium. The fiend in the red mist. "...demon."

Trajan huffed out skeptical air from his nose.

"Whether that is exaggeration or not remains to be seen."

A pause as he further pondered these claims.

"Regardless, we will lead the rest of the faithful--good men and women all--into the camp. Kha has her three dozen to stay here, so we shall have some five dozen warriors. That should be well enough for our task."

Trajan turned around and called all those who Kha had not picked to him--the rest of his battle-ready force. Sixty-one warriors, as the headcounts from the few cell leaders attested. Plenty to pacify the camp if needed, search for and secure the captives, and ensure the deposing of the warlord.

When ready, he nodded to his assembled men and women, and then he nodded to Valkery. Said, "Let's go."

Trajan led the way. His boots sunk into the shallow waters of the river. Then he was submerged up to his knees. His waist. Eventually up to the hollow of his chest at the river's deepest. And he and all his faithful emerged on the other side after fording the river, the destroyed berms and the dead geomancers before them. Beyond these, the haphazard rows of tents and huts of the camp itself. The Steppe wind rustled tent flaps and leather cords strung between them with fresh kills of small game dangling. Rustled the feathers of totems outside of and on top of the huts. Rustled the few patches of rugged, amber-colored grass that yet lived in the earthen paths through the camp.

Mostly quiet. But there were hushed sounds from some of the closest tents and huts.

Trajan carefully started forward. Crossed the edge of the camp. Sixty-one warriors could not efficiently fit down one row, so they fanned out and went down four all at once.

With the head of his warhammer, Trajan brushed aside the flap of one of the nearby orcish tents.

Inside, a female orc in her prime. Three orc children of varying ages cowering behind her, and an elderly orcish female sitting against the back wall. The female orc in her prime wore a scowl both angry and fearful, and she had a wicked axe in one hand and a crude shield in the other. She did not charge, nor did Trajan enter the tent. Trajan and her exchanged firm gazes and adamant silence each.

He withdrew his warhammer and the tent flap fell closed once more.

"Be on your guard," Trajan said in general to those behind him. "We are here for the captives and Gromagg Ur only. But beware."

Trajan kept walking, slowly, down the row. The Luminari warriors behind him checked the tents and huts in much the same manner as he did, all of them finding similar situations. Orc females, children, the elderly, and the infirm or sick; and nearly all of the orcish females were ready for battle, with only few exceptions cowering along with their children.

A tense state of--what could perhaps be called--peace, between the Luminari warriors filtering through the camp and the occupants of the huts. Ur's tent, likely, would be either in the center of the camp, be the largest and most impressive, or both.

Trajan glanced to Valkery, "Anything yet?"

 

[Madame Valkery]

Valkery followed the Trajan into the river holding her armored arm and blade above the water. She also unlatched the pouch of medical supplies and scientists tools from her hip and carried them above the water until they had crossed. Latching it back to her belt she absently used some of her aura to dry her dripping clothes. The stillness of the camp was deceiving, She could feel the presence of family units, women, children, and the elderly, all cowering in their tents. She did not feel any strong drive to fight, just fear and a willingness to die defending the ones they loved.

As they pushed deeper into the camp she started to feel something else. In one or two of the tents, along with the orcish occupants were non-orcs, usually only one or two at a time. This must be some of the slaves being kept by specific households. They got closer and her breath caught. Not all of the slaves were human, some were elves.

"Anything yet?" Trajan asked. Valkery's heart jumped into her throat as she was snapped out of her thoughts. She forced her breathing to remain even but didn't look at Trajan as she spoke. Instead, continuing to look ahead towards the center of the camp.

"I can sense one or two non-orcs in among the tents, probably being kept as family slaves, though I suspect the majority of the captives are either in the tents belonging to the more important tribe members or are held in a separate tent designated for their slaves," She paused glancing sidelong at Trajan "Some of the slaves are non-humans," she added simply, watching to see how he responded.

 

[Trajan Meng]

Some of the slaves are non-humans.

Trajan let out a throaty "hmph" that was halfway to being a laugh. Xenos. He would expect nothing more from them, only that their wanton savageries and wicked deceptions would inevitably turn them against other races of xenos--as it was here--or against their own kind. And Mankind needed to wake up, lest the last hope for a true civilized people upon Arethil degenerate into the very same as them. Now that would be a future so horrible that nothing could exceed its wretchedness.

"They will be left as they are," Trajan said, "to the mercies of their fellow xenos. Perhaps they will take this opportunity to escape. Perhaps they will not. But it is not incumbent upon us to save them."

This was the only solution. Trajan, and indeed all good men and women, did not go to seek the slaughter, as he had said. He would no more massacre those captured xeno slaves than he would their orcish slavers. But no true believer in the cause would rest well knowing that his or her life had been given to explicitly save a xeno from captivity. No, the Luminari was here for two purposes only: to depose the warlord, and to liberate the human captives. That was all.

Trajan looked back over his shoulder and called out to the cell leaders and other Luminari warriors behind him, "Liberate the human captives as you find them. Kill the orcs if they become aggressive. Direct the liberated captives across the river to Khadija."

Trajan continued on through the Urmgarr camp. Even as, almost immediately after his orders had been given, there came from behind the sound of a brief struggle within one of the huts he and Valkery had recently passed followed by the sharp, grieving cries out of an orcish mother. Inside that hut, a young orcish son, who did not fully understand the situation and thought his mother to be in danger, attempted to defend her. He was slain within seconds.

No heed nor care was paid by Trajan to this. He left it behind him, in the capable hands of the Luminari faithful.

Ahead, in the center of the camp, a large and adorned tent, as Trajan had suspected. A great construction of many hides from the beasts of the Steppe, the bones of those very same beasts decorating the tent in ways that were certain to be symbolic to the Urmgarr.

"Valkery," Trajan said, "can you sense if there is anything strange about Gromagg's aura? Anything magical? ...Perhaps demonic."

It would be seen if these tales were true.

 

[Madame Valkery]

Valkery listened to Trajan's orders. She had not expected him to do the non-human slaves any favors, though she was secretly grateful for is neutrality. No more bloodshed was needed. She had killed enough elves in her past. She did not have much time to dwell on this. She felt the screams of the orcish child's mother before she heard them. She felt the aura of gutwrenching heartbreak, stronger than fear, pain, death or dread. A mothers grief. She flinched, her cold expression wavering for a moment. This was not an aura she was familiar with. She had killed many in war but they had all been adults. The feeling ate at her, gnawing at her stomach. She wasn't even the one who had killed the boy. The mother's aura was snuffed out soon after as she tried to fight back in a desperate rage. Small skirmishes like this broke out all over the camp.

Valkerys features hardened again as she turned toward Gromagg's tent. She felt several powerful auras but one of them was stronger than the others and felt familiar. She gritted her teeth as the stench of pandemonium filled her senses.

Trajan asked her what she was sensing.

"This Xeno reeks of Pandemonium and the demons of the red mist." Her nose wrinkled in disgust. She still sensed some orcish essence in him, if faint. He had once been an orc, but it seemed as if pandemonium had changed him. Whether he still looked like an orc or not he could not honestly be called one anymore.

 

[Trajan Meng]

Gromagg Ur sat inside of his chieftain's hut. Oversized battleaxe in hand. Waiting.

He had cast off that title. Chieftain. For he was no longer simply that. He had been, when he led the Urmgarr from the coast of the Taagi Baara Steppes (the great sea called the "Allirian Strait" by the humans) that had long been ancestral lands of the Steppe orcs. He had been, when he followed in the footsteps of his father before him and maintained peaceful relations with the human settlements as they grew and spread across his homeland. He had been, when he and chieftains of other tribes entered into the Red Mists that had spawned in the Steppe. And he had been, right up until the moment he heeded the demons within.

Then he became Warlord. Warlord Gromagg Ur. The demons had shown him the truth that he had been too cowardly to accept as chieftain: that the human encroachment upon the lands of his orcish ancestors would not stop. That it was in the nature of humanity to take and to take until there was nothing left. And so he listened well to the demons. Accepted their gift. They spoke a saying in their tongue which meant: "The flesh shall match the spirit." And then it was so, Gromagg blessed with a strength and a vision that his fellow chieftains feared. So he slayed them. All of them. And he returned to the Urmgarr bearing the good news of the conquest to come, the reclamation of the lands that rightfully belonged to orcs and orcs alone.

And now this. This...attack. The humans had come. His tribesorcs he sent to fight them, but they faltered.

It lay with Gromagg himself to slay these humans. Vile and treacherous creatures, the lot of them. The demons of Pandemonium spoke more truth than all the honeyed words he had ever heard from their "civilized" mouths.

Gromagg stood. Walked toward his fate.

* * * * *​

Trajan stood with Valkery in the great dirt Gathering Circle before the chieftain's hut, where the orcish warlord no doubt spoke to his tribe on many nights, spurring them on to greater acts of villainy.

The hide flap of the chieftain's hut was tossed aside, and Gromagg Ur, an unnaturally massive ten-foot tall orc, stepped out. His left arm and both of his legs were consumed with a demonic black and red growth, pulsating with unholy muscle even thicker than an orc's own; one of his eyes was white and blinded, the other a fiery bronze. Gromagg wielded a huge battleaxe, and wore no armor save for the twin skulls of large Steppe beasts which adorned his shoulders.

Trajan shifted his stance for battle. Said to Valkery, "Yes. Undeniably reeking of Pandemonium's corruption."

The warriors of the Luminari, those that dozen or so that were closest and not occupied with searching the camp and liberating captives, stood at the periphery of the Gathering Circle. Weapons readied.

Gromagg pointed to both Trajan and Valkery, and yelled fiercely, "Humans! Face me! You will not take more than you already have!"

And with that, the warlord stomped forward. Murderous intent in his eyes.

 

[Madame Valkery]

Valkery evaluated their opponent as Gromagg entered the gathering circle. This was going to be difficult, twice as strong as your typical orc, and wielding a massive battleaxe. She took a deep breath and her senses expanded, everything seemed to slow as she took in every detail at once. Her now white eyes no longer seeing, instead she saw with her senses.

"Spears and shields in front, archers behind, those with blades circle round and cut him off," She commanded as he came charging towards them. He swung his axe and she ducked, compressing her aura beneath her feet to spring forwards beneath his guard slashing him across the thigh as she passed. This monster was not going to go down with one hit, death by a thousand cuts would have to be their tactic.

Gromagg barely flinched, swinging his axe around again slamming into one of the spearman's shields knocking them onto their back with the impact. The axe continued round with its momentum towards Valkery. Aura powered her movement as she leaped backwards with an unnatural speed, the sword bearers that had come around behind backing up as Gromagg swung out at them. The spear bearers took this opportunity to strike at his unprotected back.

Gromagg roared with rage and swung his axe around knocking the shield of one of the spear bearers to the side before bring the axe down on their head with a crunch.

Valkery gritted her teeth as she felt his life aura go out but took the opportunity to use the aura from the moment of death to dash forwards towards Gromagg's back on his blind side, blade raised to drive into his side. She barely saw it coming, pain radiated from her chest as the butt of Gromagg's axe swung back and struck her in the chest. She was knocked onto her back, dazed, looking up at the sky. 'How had he seen her coming? It was like...' Realization dawned on her. The white in his eye was not blindness, it was true sight, like when her eyes went white, seeing everything in all directions. He only had one eye like this so his true sight was probably not as good as her's but he could sense his opponents even when they were behind him.

Valkery groaned as two of the sword bearers helped her to her feet. Her armor had protected her but there was still a heavy ach in her chest where the impact was made.

 

[Trajan Meng]

The Luminari warriors needed no additional encouragement from Trajan; they heard, acknowledged, and executed Madame Valkery's orders with disciplined precision.

As Gromagg charged at Trajan and Valkery and the latter slid under the corrupted, behemoth orc, Trajan once again touched the head of his warhammer to his palm and his skin became as Iron. It was good that he had saved enough charge for this fight; it remained apparent that he, Valkery, and all of his believers would need to give everything they had to fell this monstrosity.

Gromagg slammed his axe down onto a spearman's shield, swung it around in a wide horizontal arc. Trajan, even though his Iron Skin could have withstood the blow, jerked his head and his upper body back and narrowly avoided it: the orc's strength was such that he did not want to push the limits of what punishment the spell allowed him to endure, not unnecessarily. Valkery herself executed a far more elegant dodge.

Trajan had no opening to move in to striking range of the Warlord yet--the orc had the reach advantage. His men fought valiantly, but the fiendish xeno brought his axe down on one and slew him. Trajan could not dwell on it. There was no time.

Valkery dashed. Yet it seemed the beastly orc had eyes all around his head, and struck her with a blow that sent her reeling.

Eyes around his head or not, Trajan had his opening after the Warlord had struck Valkery. Arrows from the archers standing back sunk into the Warlord's chest, further distracting him.

Trajan ducked around and swung his warhammer hard down on the back of Gromagg's left foot--praying that his strike might reduce the orc's mobility. The Warlord howled, favored the foot somewhat, then viciously brought his own head down on Trajan's metal skull. Drove into him enough force to knock him down straight to his rear on the ground.

Gromagg prepared a massive swing for the sitting Trajan. Swooped his battleaxe with such force that the WHOOOSH was sharp and audible even beyond the confines of the dirt gathering circle.

Trajan could only throw himself down flat on the ground, the edge of Gromagg's axe still catching his Iron Skin obliquely and sending a shower of bright sparks flying ahead of its swooping arc.

 

[Madame Valkery]

Valkery coughed clutching her left arm to her chest as she was helped back to her feet. "He's not blind, he can sense you even when he is not looking at you," She called out as she stood to her full height again. Trajan managed to land a hit but was then knocked back by a counter strike. "Everyone keep your guard up and strike together! He can't defend everywhere all at once." Sparks flew as the axe skidded across Trajan's metal skin. "This is what you have been trained for! We fight, for human kind!" She cried out her voice carrying beyond the fight into the rest of the camp filling the Luminari with new resolve.

Spears and swords struck out at the monstrosity before them. There was the crack of splintering wood as Gromagg's axe cut through two spears with a single swing before coming around and burying his blade into the side of a swords woman chopping off her arm in the process. "Don't under estimate me!" He growled. The circle of Luminari widened as he swung out again. Using the shaft of his axe to block the attack of a swords man he grabbed him by the head with his massive corrupted arm. A crunch was heard as his scull was crushed. Gromagg threw him aside like a rag doll, his body crashing into his companions.

Valkery watched in horror, and for the first time she doubted their chances of victory. But retreat was not an option. He might be able to sense her movements, that just meant she needed to become faster, they all did. A wave of energy washed over the remaining luminari as Valkery used her aura to give them a temporary burst of energy and stamina.

 

[Trajan Meng]

So that was how he was so preternaturally aware. That baleful, deceptive eye. Perhaps if the archers could get an appropriate opening, they might be able to put it out. Such would be a triumph; a blow that could render one of the fiend's most potent tricks useless. If not them, then a fortunate believer with a spear, blessed in his strike, could serve.

But such was a lofty goal, the putting out of Gromagg's eye. Trajan, as he got back to his feet, could see very well that the demonic orc could fend for himself easily against overwhelming numbers. No lean feat, for Trajan's faithful were capable warriors all. But they were pure men and pure women, of flesh and blood, mundane, without the dark and vile enhancements of Pandemonium or else other corrupting magics so designed to bestow power at the cost of one's soul.

Strike together. Valkery had it right. This was the strength of Mankind, for no individual man or woman fighting here could match the horrendous strength of the Warlord, even if the orc had not drank of Pandemonium's foul nectar. And together, though some of the faithful had fallen, they were further damaging the beast degree by small degree.

Valkery used some of her magic then. Her aura magic, the same as Trajan had felt today, and felt during the Pandemonium Crisis; more akin to the latter, for it was the magic of invigoration as it had been then.

And with it, Trajan had an idea. A way to create that appropriate opening he had sought. This, only possible through Valkery's empowerment.

When Gromagg's axe in the course of the Warlord's fierce swinging again came Trajan's way, he reached with his left hand (his right holding his warhammer for the sake of his Iron Skin) and grabbed for the shaft. The axehead hit his metal skin with a mighty CLANG, impacting in the crook of Trajan's neck and shoulder. A denting thereof.

But he did it. He caught the axe. Held it and the Warlord wielding it in place for a precious few seconds.

The archers--seeing this opportunity--loosed arrows after the Luminari warriors in front of them stepped to the sides. But Gromagg managed to turn his head and his shoulder at the right moment to shield his face and chest from the handful of arrows. The orc rumbled in a growl of frustration as yet more arrows had sunk into his flesh, into the bulk of his arm and one into the side of his head--yet even this seemed to faze him none.

There was still a chance.

"Valkery!" Trajan prompted, holding the shaft of the battleaxe as Gromagg wrenched it this way and that and Trajan's feet slid across the dirt as he dug in his heels.

She could deliver a decisive strike. She had the agility to do so.

To the all-seeing eye. To a target that Trajan had not even considered, perhaps.