Chapter 13: A Muddy Skirmish
"His schemes were deep, our supplies in danger."
"Our lives he reaps, that unknown stranger."
"The water he fouls so Aurellion may soar."
"We suffer now, amid this war."
Diary of an orcish survivor of the Battle of Brunag.
.....
"Fuck there back!"
Wurgoth exclaimed, the familiar red wave churning up the ground as they charged towards the orcish lines blowing up a cloud of dust behind them as they went and fired a cloud of arrows towards them, which embedded themselves into the orcish shield wall spears held tightly in their sweaty green palms. The pikemen who were exposed in the first battle were put towards the back of the orcish lines, safe from the arrow fire that had felled so many of them before.
Some of the arrows found their mark killing a few hundred of the orcish archers, while some men in the orcish shield fell to the ground. The rounded shields of the orcs left gaps in the lower leg leading to some having their lower calf impaled with arrows and screaming out in pain.
Another volley was fired from the red armoured Chavarian’s just before they entered short bow range and dealt another few hundred casualties. The shield wall tightened as archers hid behind their shielded compatriots, but those shot in the leg were further shot dead, their fellow soldiers unable to help them due to the risk of being attacked by the devastatingly accurate Chavarian horse archers.
However, unlike in the last battle, where Wurgoth was gnashing his teeth so much that he ended up in a fit of anger. Instead, an evil grin spread across his green face as his eyes shined with a vicious light full of excitement and resentment, dreaming of avenging his humiliating defeat in the last skirmish.
Waiting until the Chavarian horse archers were just out of the range of his orcish short bows and began to slow down so they could turn back and retreat slowly. Wurgoth raised his hand high as 5000 of his orcs drew the Plurian army’s crossbows and let loose a cloud of bolts.