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Author Topic: Bryald’s Journal – Part 10 – First Blood  (Read 1797 times)
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Kane
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« on: September 10, 2009, 04:37:23 PM »

I’d finally seen them, the creatures who had haunted my childhood, Izrador’s chosen; orcs. No longer was I safe, a thousand miles away behind the stout walls of Davindale.  The Kingdom was expecting less then 300 men to hold an isolated and crumbling fort, days away from any settlement or hope of reinforcement. At that moment I felt that I would never see my home again, that I would die in a forgotten battle against hopeless odds.  As I looked at the other soldiers from my company I could see the same signs of panic.  Even the Dorn looked grim as they knew there would be blood on the plains and their people would have to move further south.

We spent the rest of the morning retracing our steps, heading south to get our horses and put as much distance as we could between ourselves and the orcs. Not a word was spoken, as if no one wanted to admit their fears. We were thirty-two men moving through an area that now belonged to the orcs; thirty-two against thousands. Lost in thought, I almost missed the sign to stop from one of our scouts. While we waited in silence, the scouts, our Sergeant Yorin, and the Dorn patrol leader Dulthas, crept forward. Long minutes later they returned and gave us the news; a fist of orcs had discovered the tracks of the horses but had yet to see where we had dismounted over a day ago.  It wouldn’t be long before they picked up our trail.

The scouts and our Sergeants conferred, deciding our actions.  We outnumbered the orcs three to two but I took no comfort in that advantage.  Half of our party was untested and the orcs were easily more than a match for the soldiers of my company. I wished that I was one of those chosen to escort the horses and not here.  I could see the Dorns whispering prayers to their ancestors and the barely contained terror of our soldiers.  Those few minutes seemed like hours as we watched the orcs and waited for our orders.

Sergeant Yorin passed through the party sending the few men skilled with bows to the left so they could get a clear shot at the orcs.  The rest of us were broken into two groups that would, on Dulthas’s signal, charge down the hill at the orcs.  One of my company asked why we couldn’t wait for the orcs to pass.  The sergeant glared at him, but held back a rebuke, and said that if we waited much longer we risked the horses returning. The orcs would easily overpower the ten men we left with the horses or drive them away, dooming us to a slow and potentially deadly walk across the plains.

With no other option, we took our positions and readied our weapons.  When the signal came, I stormed down the hill at the nearest of the orcs. All my fear, all my strength, went into that first swing.  I don’t clearly remember the next few moments as I desperately tried to defend myself. Screams, the sound of splintering shields and metal on metal was almost deafening. There was blood on my sword but I didn’t know how it got there. I could see nothing but the orc before me attempting to hammer me into the ground with his vardatch. Without warning, the attacks stopped and the Dorn Seargeant Dulthas was standing over me, offering his hand. It was over and I was alive.

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Against the Shadow  |  Forum  |  Midnight & RPGs  |  Games and Stories (Moderators: Kane, Bleak Knight)  |  Topic: Bryald’s Journal – Part 10 – First Blood
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