Rise of the Horde

The battle raged on, a chaotic dance of steel and magic. The Ereian soldiers, driven by their love for their city and their families, fought with a ferocity that belied their numbers. Aedan, his sword a blur of silver, moved through the streets, his men following his lead. Their goal was clear: drive the demons back and buy time for their families to escape.

The clamor of battle filled the air, a cacophony that echoed off the city's walls. The soldiers' attacks were desperate but effective, and slowly, they began to gain a bit of ground. The demons, with their otherworldly powers, were a formidable foe, but the Ereians fought with the strength of their conviction. The ground trembled beneath the weight of the orcish horde, a vast, undulating sea of muscular flesh and iron. Their guttural roars echoed across the plains, a symphony of war that chilled the heart.

Yet, within this chaotic mass, a cold, calculating mind directed their movements. Khao'khen, their chieftain, stood atop a the abandoned walls, his face a mask of grim determination. He raised his hand, silencing the cacophony with an unspoken command.

"First and Second Warbands," he boomed, his voice a low rumble, "You will strike north through the eastern side. Take the furthest path, mow them down as you move around. Show no mercy to the demons."

The orcs of the First and Second Warbands, their faces painted with their excitement for the battle, roared their agreement. They surged forward, a powerful tide of bloodlust washing over the landscape, leaving behind only a desolate wasteland.

Khao'khen turned his attention to the east. "Third and Fourth Warbands," he continued, his voice a viper's hiss, "Follow after the First and Second, you will take the eastern side. From the east, drive them west. Move with haste lest the First and Second leave you with lesser foes to fight."

A guttural chorus of agreement echoed from the ranks of the Third and Fourth Warbands, their blades glinting in the moonlight, eager for the carnage that awaited.

"Fifth and Sixth Warbands," Khao'khen continued, his gaze fixed on the western horizon, "Your task will be the opposite side of the Third and Fourth. You willtake the western side and drive them east. Slaughter to your heart's delight."

The orcs of the Fifth and Sixth Warbands, their eyes gleaming with a predatory hunger, let out an excited howl that sent shivers down the spines of even the bravest. They disappeared into the darkness, heading towards their designated position.

Khao'khen then finally turned his gaze toward the massive gates of the remaining warriors of the horde. "Seventh and Eighth Warbands," he declared, his voice echoing across the plains, "From here towards the north. Let none escape your grasps."

The Seventh and Eighth Warbands, waiting patiently for the chieftain's arrangement for them, roared their agreement. Their weapons gleamed menacingly, and their eyes burned with a cold, unwavering fury. They positioned themselves before the gates, a sea of iron ready to consume anything that stood in their path.

As the orcs moved into position, Adhalia and Faynah came to Khao'khen. "Chief," Adhalia said, her voice barely a whisper, "What of the… the…"

"What of the Drakhars?" Khao'khen interrupted, his gaze softening. "Just have them on the reserve for the meantime. The situation in the inner walls is yet to be determined. We don't know if the entire defense has crumbled because of the demons or there is still some opposing forces holding it down."

Adhalia nodded her head in understanding. The chieftain was right, they were yet to determine if the Sand Palace is also overrun by the demons.

The Ereain defenders, already engaged in a desperate struggle, felt their hearts sink as they beheld the orcish horde advancing from the rear. The ground shook with each thunderous step, and the war cries of the orcs mingled with the clamor of battle.

They knew they were outnumbered and outmaneuvered, caught between the demons and the brutal orcish warriors. Fear gripped their hearts, but they stood their ground, refusing to yield.

Unbeknownst to them, a different kind of outcome was about to happen, and not the outcome that they have expected.

The first and second warbands moved like a swift tide, their guttural roars echoing through the streets. The demons, unlucky to be in their path , were quickly overwhelmed and slaughtered. Yet, amid the carnage, a strange sight unfolded. The Ereian defenders, paralyzed by fear, were ignored. They watched as the orcs, their faces contorted in a primal rage, swept past them, their eyes fixed on a single point beyond.

An Ereian warrior gripped his bow, his heart pounding against his ribs. He had expected a brutal end, a swift death at the hands of the monstrous horde. Instead, he found himself spared, left to grapple with the baffling cruelty of their indifference. The relief he felt was tinged with an unsettling unease, a disquieting sense that the orcs had something far more sinister in store for them. ṚἁƝÖΒÊS̩

"Why are they ignoring us?" whispered a soldier next to him, his voice trembling.

As if reading his mind, the other warrior shook his head, unable to offer an answer. He saw his comrades, faces etched with terror and bewilderment, struggling to comprehend the orcs' strange mercy.

"They must be saving us for something worse," the first warrior muttere, his voice barely a whisper.

The thought was a bitter pill to swallow. The orcs, in their terrifying efficiency, seemed to be playing a macabre game, a game with rules that they could not decipher.

The third and fourth warbands, their numbers as overwhelming as the first two, surged forward, the ground trembling under the weight of their advance. The streets were packed with a sea of iron, a tide of brute strength that seemed unstoppable.

Then came the seventh and eighth warbands, the fastest of the horde to be in their position because their assigned position was closest. The orcs then yeeted the Ereian defenders that was blocking their path towards the demons. The chieftain had ordered them to the let the humans be, but he didn't say that they should be treated nicely. The Ereian defenders, valiantly battling the demons, were in for a rude awakening. As they swung their swords, they failed to notice the approaching orcish horde.

The mighty warriors of the Seventh and Eighth Warbands announced their arrival upon the thick of battle in their own way, as they sprang into action with mischievous grins.

In a blur of movement, the orcs descended upon the unsuspecting Ereians. With a mighty roar, they grabbed the startled defenders, lifting them off their feet.

The Ereians' eyes widened in surprise, their mouths forming silent screams as they found themselves airborne. The orcs, with a playful gleam in their eyes, proceeded to yeet the Ereian warriors across the battlefield.

The defenders, still clutching their weapons, tumbled through the air, their cries of fear mixing with the thunderous roars of the orcs. Their comrades, engaged in battle with the demons, could only watch in bewilderment as their fellow soldiers went flying past, landing in a heap amid the chaos.

One unfortunate Ereian, Aedan's former lieutenant before he was removed from his position as an officer, found himself grabbed by a particularly burly orc. He let out a startled yelp as he was hoisted into the air, his sword clattering to the ground.

The orc, with a mischievous grin, gave him a playful noogie, sending the lieutenant into a fit of embarrassed splutters. As the Ereians picked themselves up, dusting off their armor, they exchanged bewildered glances. The orcs, having had their fun, returned to their positions, their eyes sparkling with mirth.

The defenders, shaken but unharmed, found themselves with an unexpected reprieve, though the reason for the orcs' sudden playfulness remained a mystery. The battle, though fierce, had taken a turn for the comical, and the Ereians found themselves grappling with a new emotion amidst the chaos—uncontrollable smiles. Experience more content on m v|l e-NovelFire

The Ereian defenders, still reeling from the unexpected yeeting, watched in awe and trepidation as the orcs turned their wrath upon the demon swarm. The orcish warriors, their eyes gleaming with battle fervor, surged forward with relentless fury.

They moved as a unit, a terrifying force of nature, their iron discipline contrasting sharply with the chaotic nature of their enemies. The demons, with their otherworldly powers and terrifying forms, were no match for the orcs' brutal efficiency. The orcs' blades sliced through the demon horde with ease, each swing sending demonic limbs and bodies flying.

The ground, already soaked with the blood of the fallen, trembled under the force of the orcs' advance. The clash of iron against demonic flesh filled the air, a gruesome symphony of war.

As the orcs cut a swath through the demon swarm, their grim determination remained unwavering. They showed no fear, no hesitation. Their sole purpose was to annihilate their demonic foes, and they did so with a ruthless efficiency that struck terror into the hearts of all who bore witness. The Ereian defenders, despite their initial fear of the orcs, found themselves grudgingly impressed by the orcs' prowess in battle.

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