War Band

The warhammer struck up mud and rocks as it slide past his leg into the ground. The gray-green grass screamed as roots were ripped up to spray the air. A nine-foot troll grew enraged at missing to strike Naga Draconul. The Captain dodged the blow nimbly, spun to avoid the whistling arrow from a random goblin bow. He danced to the back of the troll, and using his short broken spear, he took out the back knee of the troll. As it flinched from the blow, Naga used all his rage and might to put the spear into the neck and spine of his enemy. The war hammer lay next to its former owner as the troll cooled into a new corpse.

Naga spun his eyes on the battlefield. Not far was beautiful, untamed woodlands. Soaring old-growth trees arched over the bogged ground. Shafts of sunlight were killed off by the approaching sunset and shadows. Cutting through the hanging moss were dwindling archers. Naga shifted his eyes to where he heard a strange sound. It was the Elven twins.

Yalndar, the male, and Shesha, the female. Both slender, graceful yet strong, and resistant to extremes of nature. Their light-colored hair was a stark contrast to the rest of the warband’s mopped heads. They were not as agile as most of their kind, and they were three-foot shorter. Naga didn’t care of their look or anything other than what they brought to the fight. Both were the elemental mages. Yalndar was the offensive, and Shesha was the defensive. They were limited of how far they could separate, but worked well as a team. Naga wasn’t sure if they were a mating couple or related. He didn’t care as much as what they did to fight. They were effective.

He turned to look at the three dwarven mercenaries. Initially, he distrusted dwarves. In his experience, they loved their mountain hostels and jewels, but the last year, these dwarves seemed to have built a sense of loyalty. Plus, they tried to out compete the front line of orcs in kills.

In a typical orc war-band, forty-five members followed their captain. Majority of the special and strongest bands fell under the Uruk-Orc pale chieftain, but in Naga’s case, he held the oddest assortment. The rest of the orc army shunned him and his war-band because they were not “pure orcs”. He didn;t much care. He only worried about honor, getting his band bloodied, and trying to keep as many alive as possible. One thing to throw the band into meat grinders, but another without a purpose.

This battlefield is an astonishing sight. Goblins fall, braying centaurs beg to rise, and the maces and arrows of the orcs create total madness... hell... hundred fall under the orc army. Naga and his war-band at the front.

He spots his lieutenants, Dura and Wakgut, leading ten orc halflings each, over a small grassy rise. Dura weaves her mace with devastating effectiveness. Wakgut and his hammer speared his enemies as if they were water before a stone.

A goblin thought it would sneak a dagger into Naga’s back, only to find the secondary sword in Naga’s hand taking his head. Slashing downward, the infantry began to become confused by Naga’s war-band tactics. Though the remaining Orc legion fought a pitched battle, Naga and his team skimmed through the confused fighting, breaking the lines.

In the distance, by the rear perimeter, the enemy Sister-Queen was distracted, vulnerable, but too distant a target.

Naga does not waver, and heads into her direction. He catches the flash of a blade out of the corner of his eye and diverts the blow, knocking the centaur to the ground. He advanced on the scrambling centaur and crushed its skull, leaving a corpse lying on the ground.

His eyes went to the Sister-Queen to see her retreat. Naga grunted at another missed opportunity.

This was the second time he was within grasp, and he worried what his own Sister-Queeen would reply with.

Three years ago, skirmishes between the races were few, but necessary for land and resources. Then one day, a large rock fell from the sky. On its descent, it split into four pieces. Each landed far from the other. Soon, regions were torn into three dark realms under the rule of Sister-Queens.

Naga and the orc legion fell under Viessa the Bloodshifter. She was a powerful witch. She was a formidable murderous, callous, idealistic, merciless and cruel creature. She was extremely sadistic, showing no qualms about massacring and relishing death. She was more a lich than a female, though she took many lovers. She was psychopathic and remorseless to any failures. Once she gained her throne, she aimed her armies to her sisters with the motive to retrieve something from them.

The departing Sister-Queen, from the rumors, Xithuth was ruthless, but cunning. She was a shape-shifting demon of lust. It didn;t matter creature nor gender, she ruled and manipulated the goblin clans and centaurs. There was suspicion she gave birth, but she fed on her own babies.

Then to the far north was the third Sister-Queeen. Shudrema never ventured from her walls. But a dark, edgy siren who performs necromancy has enough minions to do her bidding. The frost covered icebergs and snow valleys are a natural barrier to stop her two sisters.

The fourth sky-piece remained lost and a mystery. If there’s a Sister-Queen, she kept her terror hidden. For now.

Naga sensed someone coming up on his heels. He turned and noted it was Dura. She was breathing heavy, and was splattered with blood. Her eyes shined with battle lust.

“Tell the band, break off. Follow me.” Naga grumbled to her. She huffed, but obeyed the order. In the far distance, a three horn blared. It was the recall order. Naga couldn’t understand. They could slaughter the remnant of Viessa forces. Ignoring the horn, he knew they'd gain glory and honor if they brought her head to their queen.

In minutes, the war-band had aligned behind him. With a raised fist, he ordered them forward, with him in the lead. Dura eyed him as he moved. Naga wondered what went through the orc warrior's mind. He was sure at the next rest he'd find out.