Ogre Raid.

[Sentinel*]

Shaktil moved his small group of ogres towards the very large village that had been set up in the Eastern Lands of Caladin, a few lights were still on, but most were asleep, it seemed. Shaktil had orders from the Leader to kill all who stepped in their path, and Shaktil was a devote follower of the Ogre who had united the Ogre Clans under one banner. Though if that is what the Leader was. Wild rumours spread among the clans that the Leader may be something other then a ogre, for he had brought with him from whereever he had come from powerful weapons from the swamp and had gave them to the local leaders and a few important warriors. As Shaktil thought on these things, he never saw the dark sky full of arrows. They struck Shaktil and he died instantly.

----------------------------------------

Skene Whitewing had been waiting behind a very tall hedge in the village waiting for his trap to be unleashed. The ogres had gone too far from their sawmp and word had passed about them, and Skene prepared the attack against them. Skene Whitewing was a knight, typical like all others, though special in some degree. He had sharp tan aristocratic features, with fierce steel grey eyes and raven black hair braided above the ears to mark him as a nobel. He wore light plain silver armour with a kite shield latched to one arm and his sword in the other. His helm had two raven wings on each side to mark him as a Whitewing. As the ogres stopped momentarily confused, SKene ordered the charge. His men, who numbered fifty, charged all on horses into the Ogres. The battle was short and easy for the Caladin Knights, a slaughter for the ogres, none whom escaped. As Skene made his horse go to a slow trot his suddenly felt something not right.

Skene sped his horse up to a gallop and came to large hill and came to the crest. As he looked out he saw thousands of flickering lights of torches from the east spread out to both horizons. Skene's mouth dropped open and he yelled out the warning call. The armies of the ogres had been unleashed without intelligence on it. Skene galloped back and ordered his men and the whole village evacuated, where they wopuld go to the nearest stronghold where they could send out a messanger

[Akuma]

OCC:
 nope that doesn't sound good at all but I game to play if its ok with you.

[Nobody]

Therris was on his way to the strateda'al kingdom when he passed through Caladin. A nice place to visit certainly. Suddenly, through the town came th blowing of a loud horn. "evacuate the village" came a voice no older than sixteen. Probably a scout Therras assumed. "Ogres from the West" came the sound of the boys voice.

Therris realized that the boy's voice was not loud enough to carry through the whole village. only those close to the boy understood what he was saying. Therris cast a magnification spell. At first, nothing happened. Suddenly like the torrent of water through a dam, the sound of the boy's voice was clearly heard in every nook and crack of the town as if the boy was standing everywhere at once shouting his proclaimation of impending danger.

People began rushing out of their houses with only their most valuable things. They were packed and ready so quickly that Therris was sure that this was not the first time that this village had need of a hastened retreat.

He cut off the magnification spell abruptly and started strolling west, in the direction of the ogres. A large dog of about 83 pounds.

[Sentinel*]

Skene whistled and trappmpled east to look out at how far were the lights of the torches away. He came upon the hill and just happened to see the dog, he shook his head and thouhgt maybe the dog a scout for the ogres. He sighed and galloped back down the hill as the people started to move quickly west

[Maggot]

Surounded by his elite bodyguard,Heron Feather stood at the head of the masssive Ogre horde that surounded the evil human town.Today would be the day that the his people would avenge the terrible injustices inflicted on  on his people by the ruthless invaders that come from across the Great Ocean.

 He had been a young warrior when the humans had first arrived in their vast floating hills.Life before then had been good.Though the various Ogre Clans had had various petty feuds,most of them would end in negotiations between elders from both sides,after the deaths of a few warriors in a skirmish or two.No,merciless and total war had been a concept that his simple people would never have been able to understand.If the fued went on for too long,too many warriors and hunters would die,too may women would be widowed,too many children would loose thier fathers.Prolonged violence was to be always shunned,if there was a way to preserve the honor of both the clans involved.

 All that had changed when the mysterious humans had come,though.Riding terrifying,four legged beasts of war,they had sowed death through the lands of the ogre clans.With nary a regard for the life of the smallest child or the oldest elder,they had slaughtered all alike,forcing the clans to forsake the lands given to them by their ancestors.

 Heron Feather had seen the humans impale his father,the clan shaman,even as he had pleaded with them to spare the lives of his mate and son.Forcing back his tears,he had lain among the corpses of the slain,pretending to be one of them,all the while watching helplessly,as the humans cackled with glee and savage joy as they killed his parents.After they had left,he had dragged himself from the defiled village and fled into the Great Swamp,where death was said to lurk.He had not cared them.Death was what he sought after all.To join his beloved parents in death was what he had wanted most of all,right then.

 But it was not death he had found.It was the voice of the Hidden One.The Hidden One had spoken to him,telling him that he was not to meant die here.To do so,would be to deny his true destiny and that could never be.No,he would return to the surviving remants of this people and lead them to victory against the vile invaders that had raped the land with their twisted creations.Remember,the Hidden One had said.that when all seems bleak and hopeless,I will always be here to guide you,my chosen.I will not let despair or death consume you,for you are mine and I will not let them have you.Go now,with the knowledge that I will be there to watch over you.

 And so he had gone,uniting the clans with the gifts the Hidden One had given him.And now,here he stood,gazing down upon the den of filthy vermin that had murded his clan.Now the moment of justice would come.

[Scrasamax]

"Banner Captain!" Prince Graeme yelled out, catching the attention of one of his subordinates, a stocky man in his fighting prime, encased in plate armor wearing the green and silver of the Silver Boars mercenary company.

"My prince?" The man saluted, fist to his heart, a curt bow of the head to the tall man sitting astride a large dapple grey warhorse. Behind him, the entirety of the company, a full legion of soldiers marched in close ranks, armor tight and weapons loose.

"Prepare the lines, I want triple layer fire on the crossbowmen. Form the phalanxes and prepare to engage." The prince sat back in his saddle, his own sword loose in the scabbard should he need to draw it. Instead, in his hands he clasped a rod of silvery colored wood, shod in gold, the scepter of his royal house.

"Are we already that close to the ogres?" he asked.

"Close enough that we will encounter their pickets soon enough. I want each ogre shot dead with five bolts before he can raise a cry of alarm." The prince said. He could have done it himself, called upon the power of his semi-divine blood and unleashed the power of sorcery upon them. Instead he preferred to wait and husband his strength for the actual battle between the main bodies of the two opposing armies. It was strain enough to use sight beyond sight but the ability to see what was well beyond his advancing troops was worth the effort.

At the command of the Banner Captains and under captains, the crossbowmen formed into tight ranks, able to fire and fall back as the row behind them advanced offering cover while they reloaded their weapons. The pikemen, clad in bright steel helms formed into tight units ro keep the crossbowmen from being flanked by the ogres. Prince Graeme lifted a horn to his lips and blew a loud clear note on it, letting the tone carry as long as he could. The loud bray echoed through the hills, reaching even the village. The banners of each talon were unfurled and weapons were readied.

[Akuma]

A stranger in town Akuma only ment to stay for one night.
He was in the local taven relaxing when the evacuation call went out. Confused and somewhat interested he went out into the street to see what was going on. Dozens of people were quietly running past him in a flurry of motion. He tried asking a few people what was going on but most were to concerned with their own lives to answer. One old man stopped just long enough to tell him that it was the end of the world and the orges were coming.
Akuma decided that he had to see for him self what was going on, a little battle sounded like fun.
He headed in the direction that everybody was running from and started to slowly creep through the hills until he crossed over the top of one and saw the thousands of fires. This is far from a little battle, he thought, but maybe I could work this to my advantage. with that thought he set out among the towns people to where ever it was that they were going. Keeping a safe distance from the crowd so they wouldn't see that he was not one of them he followed. He had other plans before this but one to several tens of thousands didn't sound good.

[Scrasamax]

Within minutes of forming into lines, the soldiers of the Silver Boars company encountered the first of the ogres, a raiding group some ten strong. The air buzzed with the drone of crossbowbolts. Each beast was struck several times, with more than half killed outright in the initial slavo. The Banner captain waved his sword, and the next line of crossbowmen advanced into place while the former front line retreated to the back already drawing back on the cranks of their crossbows.

"Good work!" Prince Graeme shouted, and sounded a second note on the large horn. Taking signal, the rows of infantry advanced, weapons at the ready. The last rays of the setting sun glinted off of their armor, setting it ablaze with a riot of orange, red, and gold.

As the units advanced, the refugees streaming from the village were given a place of safety in the rear of the advancement. Those who needed water or medical attention were tended to while those who seemed in good shape were armed as militiamen, shortswords and bows. If nothing else it allowed more soldiers to be pulled from guarding the baggage train to fight on the front. A few looked to the imperial standard, and the house standard of the Prince and for a moment realized that perhaps the distant Empire had not forsaken them, and was not the monster that they thought it was.

[Sentinel*]

Skene nodded and sighed contently to see all the refugees gone. Skene turned his horse around and galloped to the leader of the Silver Boars Company, the banner captian.
"Captian! Tell your men to fall back. We to gather forces at Gilgaligh where we might be able to push back the ogres."
Skene said as he nodded to the Banner Captian.
"Trust me on this, friend."
He said clapping his hand on the shoulder of the captian, a sign of friendship, showing trust. Gilgaligh was the closet stronghold where they could gather supplies and soldiers.

[Maggot]

As Heron Feather stood,lost in his thoughts,he felt some one tap his shoulder.He turned his head and saw Crazy Hawk,one of his most trusted and feared warriors.

''1o of our raiders have been slain,Chief Heron Feather,Crazy Hawk rumbled.''The vile humans cut them down with arrows.'',he rumbled.''But they retreat now,most liley to their great stronghold.Shall we attempt to besige it?''

 ''Besige it?'',replied Heron Feather.''No,we shall not please our enemy by doing as they wish.Their stronghold must be well defended and stocked.The Clans would never be able to succsefully besige such a place.Nay,tell the Clan Chiefs that we will continue to burn and plunder the villaages in this region.When the humans realize that we have no intention of showing up at their precious fotress,the entire region would be firmly under our sway.And more Clans will join our quest to retake the land of our ancestors.''

 Today was a good day for the Clans.Their old lands would be taken back.And those who had stolen them,would die.All of them.

[Scrasamax]

"Belay that order, captain." Prince Graeme said, turning his horse next to the new rider. "Hold ranks and continue rolling advance." he turned away from his captain, there was no flush to his face, but the prince, as young as he was, did not plan to let strangers undermine his authority. These thresholders, satraps of the empire were given too much liberty, and not enough discipline.

"Perhaps it is your plan to wait out a siege, but I have the singular notion of putting these ogres to the sword, every last one of them. If you wish to stay and fight like a man, then do so. Attempt to usurp my command, and you will find yourself run through." he said. "Stay and fight, or run away like a mewling girl."

The ogres didnt employ siege warfare, no rams, no towers, no siege engines, only their own hand weapons and fists. They were strong, but against solid stonework, they ould starve themselves before penetrating a fortress. He planned something different, something that humans hadnt done before. He planned to engage the ogres aggressively. The Silver Boars werent the only mercenary legion in the field, his cousin, and liegeman commanded the house legion, as well as a detachment of mercenary cavalry. The Grey legion was moving to the south to swing northward as his brother Baird had forseen. If all went well, the ogres would be caught in a pincer attack, flanked by heavy cavalry from the rear while facing a wall of steel on the front.

Discipline, by the gods, it would win over the strength and fear of the ogres. He would see them break like water on the rocks, and their blood would be the first offers to his greatness, their corpses the first steps of his ascention to the Imperial Throne. The Crown of Swords would sit upon his brow, but not until blood had been spilled.

[Maggot]

Heron Feather continued to survey the village below,waiting for the human legions to gather their forces and withdraw.Then something caught his eye.One legion  was actually advancing towards the position the horde held.Hmm,obviously the commander of that particular legion had ignored the orders given to the rest of the army and seemed determined to take on the Clans by himself.Next to him,a warrior muttered''Those are the same humans that killed our 10 brothers,Chief Heron Feather.They appear to want to do the same to the rest of us.And they have many horses with them''


 Dissension within the human ranks perhaps?It could be that the commander of this army was a little too hungry for glory and plunder for his own good

Heron Feather gave a grim little smile.''Order the warriors to ready their long spears and set the wicker balls alight.If  they attempt to mow us down,they will be in for a suprise.'' A recent invention,the long spear was a stout spear with an iron head,that could bring down a mounted human fighter if used correctly.And those large constructs of reeds that he called ''wicker balls,when set alight and rolled down the slope towards the human force below,would cause most of their horses to flee with terror.Previous skirmishes had told him that the beasts the humans rode into battle were easily spooked by fire.That would leave his warriors free to crush any foot men the human sent against him.And as for the commander himself,he would pay dearly for the cowardly murder of ten of his warriors.When Heron Feather found him,he would rip that wretched little man's head off and add it to the heads of the other human commanders he had slain in battle.

''Come to me,my wee little human soldier''he rumbled.''Let Heron Feather send your craven soul to the Death Hag.''

[Scrasamax]

The Prince turned his horse away from the newcomer and returned to the command section of the mercenary legion. His men, all stout men of the empire, not the frail hearted folk of the satrapies were advancing well, weapons ready. He suppressed a faint smile, Baird told him to expect the ogres to use some sort of flaming weapon against him, but apologized that he could not be more specific

[Flashback]
"I am sorry brother, I can forsee some sort of powerful weapon, and it is wreathed in flame. I do not think it is magical, but it is hard to tell." Baird said, wiping the sweat from his brow. Reaching into the future was difficult, even within the confines of a manse attuned to reading the warp and weave of fate.

"No apology needed. They will use flame, so will I." Graeme said, sharpening his sword, an heirloom of the family.

"It will not be long before the emperor dies." Baird said, accepting a cup of chilled wine from a servant clad in white silk robes. The was attractive, and she rolled her hips in a seductive manner as she walked. Baird could not help but watch her as she exited, but Graeme was far from distracted.

"I know, I still plan on taking his place." Graeme said, sheathing his sword. "It is time for the Crown of Swords to come to our family, our blood. Now, this campaign will do something that the other Imperial families cannot. It will make me a hero at their expense."

"There will be losses, so be careful of your defence. There will come a powerful battle, its outcome is gray, I cannot forsee any outcome from it." Baird said, a tinge of fear in his voice. Not knowing was often worse than bad news to those who could feel the future.

"I am always careful." Graeme had said, and in a rare display of emotion hugged his younger brother before mounting his horse. A few hours later the Silver Boars had marched out of the northern gate of the Imperial city, bound for their destiny.
[/flashback]

"Riders dismount!" He gave the command. His few mounted men dismounted and passed their reins to grooms who took the horses back to the baggage train. Ogres were quite effective at unhorsing cavalry when they were prepared to. It was better to stay on foot, and hold ranks.

"M'lord, the ogres are carrying metal weapons, and are doing some sort of rubbish with what look like giant basket-ball things." the scout reported while he saluted, fist to heart. "Their chief is the biggest, ugliest ogre right smack in the middle, I almost took a spear to find that bit out."

"Good work soldier." Graeme said. He pulled a brass tube from the pocket of his surcoat, and placed it to his eye. A clever contraption of brass and lenses amplified the size of objects at a distance, allowing him to make out the grotesque forms of ogres, and the wicker creations they had. These must be the flame weapons. Primitive, but compared to other ogre raids quite advanced.

He held the scepter of his family and felt the warmth that eminated from the hearthstone set in the head of the scepter. It had been taken from the family manse, a place of natural power. He carried a conduit to that power in the stone. He could feel the motes of essence swirl through the stone, like the miracle of water drawn from basalt. It filled him like a raging bonfire, waiting to be focused, directed. He let the power reach out, creating a bridge between himself and the nearest of the wicker creations. He kindled the essence into primordial flame, igniting the object prematurely. Whatever substance they were pouring into the ball erupted in a spray of flaming slime, coating several of the ogres who were handling the balls. Even at his great distance, ears accented by the electric pulse of essence could discern the shrill cries of those ogres screaming as they burned.

[Sentinel*]

All this hapened in Skene's eyes in a blink of an eye. For some time, since adolensence, he knew he had the sight. Where people could percieve into the future and see the many paths that lay before them. On one side, he saw himself retreating to the fortress and letting many of the Mercenary Company's men fall. On the other, he stayed and fought hard in battle, but falling. Skene was torn between this and gulped as he came out of the trance and turned his horse to a wry little man on a small mare. Skene slapped him on the back hard.
"Ride hard to Gilgalith and tell them to move all their forces to our location at once! Now move!."
The little man nodded and galloped off west. Skene turned back around and galloped back to the banner captian just in time to use the magic. Skene cursed under his breath. Indeed, many of his men had seen the work of the magic. Did the captian not know that magic was forbidden in Caladin? Skene galloped over to the capitan, no matter. He was doing it to save his country and he would accpet all help he could get, no matter what their tactics.
"I will stay. I am a Knight of Caladin and I have at this moment 300 men under my command. 50 calvary, 100 archers, and 150 footmen. Tell me what to do, m'lord."

[Maggot]

Crazy Hawk ran to his chief,eyes wild with confusion and anxiety.''My Chief,the wicker balls have ingited mysteriously!We must put them out before we are all consumed by the flames!''

''Sorcery!''snarled Heron Feather.''The coward employs foul magic against my warriors!But he does not realize that his own power is but small and weak,when compared to that of the one who guides me.He will find out soon that his magic will not save him.''Closing his eyes,he begun to meditate,seeking to reach out to the Hidden One

 I am here,my chosen,the Hidden One answered.You seek my help against the foul arts the human has used.Fear not,I will smite him the way a swamp hog smites a bug.Now see it all with your own eyes.

 Snapping out of his trance,Heron Feather wakened to see dark storm clouds forming in the skies above.A moment later,they unloaded the burden they carried,on the forces camped below.Sizzling and hissing,the fires were soon quenched by the raging torrent of water that rained down on them ruthlessly,ending their ravening hunger.But that was not all.Even as the astonished Ogres witnessed what had seemed to be a disaster vanish,jagged lightning bolts rent the sky and smote down the humans marching below.Heron Feather and his warriors bellowed war crys,as humans screamed and died in the hundreds.But the fury of the Hidden one was not spent yet.Even as the terrifed humans broke ranks and tried to flee from the vengeful bolts of lightning,the earth below them begun to shudder and rumble.They watched as enourmous crevices appeared,swallowing entire legions whole.

 Closing his eyes with joy,Heron Feather raised his hands to the skies above.''Thank you,my father''he rumbled.You have just saved my people from the jaws of death and defeat.''

[Sentinel*]

Skene's eyes widened as he saw the dark storm clouds and the lightning and the earth open up below him. Leaving the Banner Captian to his own thoughts as he felt the rage move inside him. He yelled out as he galloped forwrad his horse moving as fast as it could to dodge lightning and the chasms which appeared below them. Skene galloped towards the ogre army and stopped fifty yards away unsheathing his sword and holding it up in the air as his horse went it's hind legs. His men, the survivors yelled out and ran behind Skene.
"Archers!"
Only a few were archers but they prepared, notching arrows to their bows.
"Fire!"
At such close range of only fifty yards their arrows all found their marks in the ogres. Skene looked back and had seen the landscape change dramatically, Skene galloped back to the other side of the field to the far edges and looked out.
Far out he could see the banners of Caladin moving as the reiforcements from the fortress came. Skene yelled out and waved his sword above, hope had once come back

[Akuma]

Akuma could hear the sounds of war behind him and paused in his tracks, something was wrong the air felt alive with the use of magic in the area.

This battle I will not flee. He thought to himself as he doubled back to try to catch any straggling ogres on the east flank. As Akuma scrambled through the bush keeping out of sight he kept curseing himself that he stoped his magic training, at least I have my guiding magic.

Upon reaching the crest of a hill several meters away from an ogres scouting party he crouched lower and started his chanting.
I must get a message to the human leaders invovled in this before I reveal myself. He thought as he cast the message spell.

~~" Listen well humans, you don't know me but you will in time. I am here to help and will meet you at your stronghold in time with proff that I am on your side in this one."~~

With the message sent Akuma shruged off his cloak, drew two of his scimitars into the air and cast a guiding spell on them. With two ready to fight for him he drew his remaining four scimitars, spread his wings and leapt into the midst of twelve ogres.
Landing in the center of them he became a flurry of stabs and slashes. It only took him a few minutes to fell his foes, and though no alarm was raised akuma returned to the brush with a rather nice gash in his right shoulder.

I should have been a little more carefull. he thought to himself as he retrieved his cloak, and put an ogres hand into the left pocket.

Akuma replaced his swords into their sheaths, tossed his cloak on, and headed into the hills.

[Sentinel*]

Skene yelled out as the Coomander of the Caladin Legions came galloping up with most of the Legion Calvary.
"Sir Whitewing. We came as fast as our horses could carry us."
Commader Switz looked aout at the battlefield.
"By the gods! What's ahppened here?"
Skene bowed his head to Switz and looekd up.
"The mercenary legions used magic against the magic against the ogres, m'lord."
Switz shook his head bewildered.
"Ogres don't use magic, Knight!"
Skene shook his head.
"We must prepare the legions."
Swtz nodded as the legions broke into three groups, one going on the left flank, one on the right and one on the front. The only way for the ogres to go would back. The legions stopped and the archers prapred their bows as the captians yelled out fire all in unison. The air filled with arrows as they plummeted into the ogres from three sides.
Skene and Switz galloped over to where the Banner Captian of the Silver Boar Company was and they stopped infront of him.
"We are hammering the ogres with vollies of arrows at the moment."
Switz said to the Banner Captian. Skene looked at the Banner Captian.
"I still have about 100 men and they need to fight, where will ye put me m'lord."

[Maggot]

Heron Feather growled as arrows cut down the front ranks of his warriors.''Crazy Hawk!'' he bellowed.''Tell the men to riase their shields!''Crazy Hawk nodded and relayed the orders to the warriors.

 As the humans fired yet another vollley of feathered death.the Ogres raised their great wooden shields,thei time ready for the next waves of arrows.Heron Feather chuckled at the dismayed expression on the faces of the human archers,as they watched their arrows thud harmlessly into the upraised shields of the Ogre warrirors.Now the time came to turn the battle around.

 ''Charge my warriors!''he roared.''Now comes the time to avenge old wrongs and restore the honor of our people!''Uttering terrifying war cries.the Ogres held their great shields against their bodies,as they ran towards the archers who had killed so many of their comrades,the wicked tips of their spears glimmering wickedly.Taken by complete suprise,the stunned humans barely had time to fire another volley of arrows which clattered off the shields of the Ogre warriors,just like the wave that had preceeded it,inflicting nary a scratch,before the warriors of Heron Feather were on them.

 What happened next was an utter and complete massacre.The Ogres mowed the helpless  archers down with their spears,the way a farmer would harvest his crops with his scythes.When the warrriors  of Heron Feather were done,not a single archer remained alive.Smiling broadly,Heron Feather and the horde now advanced on the rest of the human army.He could see the despair and horror on the faces of the humans,as they saw their death march towards them.

[Sentinel*]

Skene and the commander yelled out orders as they prepared the massive Caladin Calvary that was behind the ranks of the infantrymen. They galloped forward with long pikes and rushed through the Ogres, cutting through them easily. Skene saw the leader, Heron, and yelled out in anger and jumped off his horse slamming into the ogre as his sword stabbed through the ogre's gut.

[Maggot]

Heron Feather roared in pain,as the blade of Skene stabbed deep into his gut.The wound was mortal he relized,as the red mist clouded his vision.But he still had enough strength left for something.

 With a grunt of rage,he grabbed Skene's head and with a final effort,ripped off the knight's head in a great explosion of entrails and blood.As Heron Feather fell beside his beheaded foe,he fell the Hidden One reach out to him in that final moment.Fear not my son,for your death is not in vain.It will save your people today.Today will be the day that the Clans trumiph.Closing his eyes in joy,Heron Feather whsipered with joy ''Thank you,father.I come to you now.'' Then he closed his eyes,never to open them again,for he was safe now in the embrace of the Hidden One.

 On the verge of a great defeat,the Ogres were once again saved by their leader.With bellows of rage,they rallied themsleves under Crazy Hawk and pulled themselves into an organized formation.Now the winds of fortune had changed.Crouched under their great spears,they turned back the onrushing wave of mounted knights with a supreme effort of will.Horses screamed as they were impaled on the spear heads of the Ogre warriors,their riders tumbling down to be crushed by Ogre fists.It was over soon.Slowly at first,then rapidly,the survivng knights begun to flee the battlefield,ignoring the cries of their officers to stay and fight.Soon the battlefield was devoid of anyone but the Ogres.Weeping tears of both joy and sorrow,Crazy Hawk and his warriors gathered up the body of thier fallen leader and burned him on a great pyre,singing the ancient chants that would bear him swiftly to his ancestors.The human Skene,they left for the jackals.

[Sentinel*]

Skene's last thought was d**n good thing he killed the leader as he faded away and to the heavens.

 The Commander Switz had survived and with the survivors made a quick getaway back to the mercenary legions where they waited for more supplies and reinforcements from the Southrein Fortress, some ten leagues south of the battlefield.As Switz's men gathered supplies and men he had a thought of something.
"Could we possibly use guerrila warfare?"
He said as sighed leaning against a small hedge looking at the battle. Open battle, he had found would sucide for him and his men, he would have to find something else. he could not send aid to Abasil, for the eastern coast was all in enemy territory, but if they could, he knew that with the help of the powerful legions of Abasil they could destory the ogres. But they couldn't. Abasil had been at war the Trolloc Nations for years and they would not deprive any of their forces for this cause.
 And so the war had to become guerrilla. The Caladin War Officials had looked into it and had designed small groups of Rangers and assassins, light infantry that could strike a heavy infantry unit and be out in mere seconds. To do this they had called the Anawaith Rangers and many had come to fight for them. Indeed, a famous one at the moment was at his side.

 Sentinel had come to fight for their cause, and with him had brought a small unit of rangers with him. He had trained many Caladin soldiers in their arts and was ready for battle. When Sentinel went to combat. He would show how Sentinel fought, he would not be brought down as easily as the Caladin Knights were.

[Scrasamax]

Prince Graeme snarled as the first bolts of lightning began to fall from the heavens, smiting into the line of men. He thrust the scepter forward, a shout in his throat as the lightning exploded well above the heads of the men, showering their burnished helms with harmless sparks.

"Banner Captains, all men hold position! Hold Position!" he shouted as he stopped another bolt of lightning. He was starting to feel the effort of directing the essence, making him both burning alive, and bone weary.  Below he watched as the militias from the fortress advanced, showering the ogres with arrows, and making a good dent in the orcish lines. THen, they raised stout wooden shields, and armed with the metal weapons the scout had warned him of, slaughtered the militia to the last man and horse.

The weight of the battle had shifted against the human forces. He was silently thankful that the militia commander, though sacrificing his life and that of his men revealed the newfound cunning of the ogres. He raised the scepter, the imperial banner, and house banner snapped in the wind as he shouted in the eldritch tongue the words of power.

There was a deep rumbling as the motes of essence boiled from the scepter, shooting into the ground like burrowing serpents. Only another sorcerer could haven seen such displays, but to those who could it was breath-taking. The ground heaved and great stone spikes five feet tall rose from the ground. It was not a palisade of stone, but rather a thicket of stone spikes as thick as a man's leg. The ogres would be hard pressed to simply smash through the barrier, but it would undoubtedly slow them down, and disrupt their shield lines. The crossbowmen would be able to land good hits, if not lethal hits against the exposed limbs of the ogres.

"Defensive positions!" he shouted, sliding the scepter into a sheath and drawing his own sword. He raised the blade and the men cheered. Secretly he hoped he would not share the same fate as the commander of the militias had. "Pikes forward, archers take any shot you can! HOLD THE LINE! HOLD THE LINE!" he shouted as the ogres following their new leader crashed into the barrier.

Some of the ogres, driven by bloodlust (TM) were skewered on the stone spikes, others tried to break through them, but caught crossbow bolts in the arms, legs, and in the gut. The wounded ogres were quickly assaulted by the pikemen, who three of four men would converge on a wounded ogre, thrusting at the neck, and armpit would incapacitate and kill the beast and fall back to the line in short order. The fighting was intense as the ogres finally broke a way through the stone barriers, though through a pile of their own dead.

"Where are you?" Prince Graeme growled as his men began to buckle under the weight of the ogre assault. As if in answer, a clear note floated across the vale, at first thin and ephemeral, but becoming more solid. The Grey Legion. Graeme laughed.

*****
Captain, and cousin, Mosen rode at the head of the charge, nearly 1000 strong, the heavy cavalry bore down in the flank of the ogres. Baird, Graemes precocious little brother had told him this would happen, down to the specific details. The snot was unsettling, but his ability to see the future had been quite advantageous. Lances ready the horse of the Imperial mercenaries smashed into the ogres, individual ogres were slaughtered as the band passed them, and those who stood in groups took the heaviest of the hits. Mosen lost his lance through the chest of an ogre, but lost his horse as one of the beasts shattered its leg with a well thrust spearshaft. Suddenly dismounted, Mosen had a second to roll onto his feet before taking the head of the spear through his solar plexus.

[Sentinel*]

Sentinel looked around on the horse, and moved his Rangers, fifty only, to the left side of the army there they hid in some small mosses bushes, Sentinel signaled the rangers as they notched arrows to their longbows. Sentinel nodded and let loose his arrows along with all the other ones. The arrows were deadly landing into the left flank of the ogres. They notched others and continued fighting, Sentinel every so often moving around the battlefield.

Switz galloped over with his infantry and with a small line of his survivors continued firing arrows into the ogres

[Scrasamax]

The massive weight on the mercenary lines eased as the ogres were drawn between two more axis' of attack, the band of rangers and the charge of the heavy cavalry. The ground was littered with the dead and wounded, some of whom were crushed to death under the thunder of cavalry hooves, or the heavy tread of ogres. The tide of the cavalry lost momentum, and was disrupted by the sudden death of the Imperial captain. Several of the undercaptains rallied their men to exploit the ogres temporary confusion at the hail of longbow arrows, and the thrust and cut of lances.

Graeme drew the last motes of essence from the scepter, letting the motes twine about his limbs, restoring his vigor at the cost of the ability to do magic. The time for spells was done, he lifted the horn of the Silver Boars and blew a loud note, calling the lines to rally, now depleted from the heavy fighting. As the men rallied to him, he readied his sword, now was the time for heros.

To the ogres he must have appeared as foolish as the militia commander, running to his death. He drew up short of the first ogre, feiting for a shield strike before reversing his blade and using the diamond edge sword technique, trained in since he was old enough to carry a wooden sword. The blade danced past the heavy shield, and ripped through the exposed belly of the ogre, spilling blood and viscera in a gush of gore.

The infantry surged behind him, using their pikes to knock aside shields while the crossbowmen slung their crossbows behind their backs and drew their own shortswords. There was a terrible warcry as the men of the empire pressed forward, blades flashing in th dying light of the day.