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Hey Everyone this is my first attempt at some fluff, i hop it isnt to bad:
Captain Joan Herkland stared grimly across the swaying fields of grass at the rising pillars of smoke. They'd had no warning. The orcs had been running rampant in these parts for years and despite their best efforts, more and more of the outlying villages feel to their cursed raids.
The stronghold and men of the small walled city of Gorthiin had long withstanded the repeated ravages of the orcs. Three times that year alone they had beaten back impossible odds and snatched victory from the jaws of defeat. But the dreaded green skins kept coming. Joan tried to hold back the bitter thoughts of most of the knights of this once proud house laying dead back on the Fields of Thysnal. Joan reflected darkly thinking without them, the outlying villages and there people were as good as dead.
The beating of drums brought Joan out of his reverie with a start. "Sir, shall we advance?" Nathaniel his banner carrier looked questioningly at him. His pale blue eyes reflecting the anxious fear Joan knew was knawing at the hearts of his troops. Looking to his left and then to his right he viewed the few hundred troops under his command. The hundred and fifty odd peasant bowmen who had joined them checked their bows nervously eyeing the smoke filled skies and flinching at the drums beats.
Joan grasped his battered shield tighter and pointed his sword forward and bellowed "Advance!!" Like a well oiled machine the black and silver garbed infantry moved forward. The black wolf head emblazed on a white field fluttered in the breeze urging the men forwards. Joan's grip tightened on the hilt of his sword as the sound of the drums and loud rancorous cries getting louder. The sight that greeted Joan as his men came in sight of the village made his anger to boil over ten fold.
The dead lay everywhere. Men, women, children lay in puddles of their own blood. They had been partially eaten, torn limb from limb or smashed into a bloody pulp. Their livestock lay in the same state as their burning small hovels highlighted the horrific scene with shadows and flickering flames. The green skins where everywhere, easily numbering roughly around a thousand. Their War boss reeled drunkenly on his boar mount laying about with the flat of his blade trying to get his boyz moving. Joan half turned over his shoulder and bellowed “Archers take aim!" The shouts of the orcs intensified as several of them spotted the Bretonnians. Whooping wildly at the chance of more killing they loped forwards, their giant meat cleaving black scimitars waving wildly. Their glowing red eyes eagerly fixed on their next batch of foes. The Warboss not to be outdone by his followers spurred his mount forward.
"Fire!" yelled Joan and with several twangs the arrows were released at the orcs thundering towards them. Screams and gurtal cries of pain resounded from the orc lines as several fell transfixed by the flight of deadly shafts. To his amazed eyes Joan watched an orc continue running; his beady red eyes full of pain and rage even though he had been hit by four arrows. The first of the charging orcs were nearly at the line of men-at arms. "Halberds forward!!" yelled Joan as all along the line the blades where dropped down, quivering points pointed at the charging green skins. Another flight of shafts screamed over his head and ploughed into the orcs ranks cutting more of them down. The charging orcs responded with a war cry “WAAAGH!” And redoubled their efforts to reach the Bretonnians. A final volley was launched into them throwing even more orcs to do the dirt like a scythe through wheat. “Brace yourselves!” Commanded Joan.
With the sound of a hammer striking an anvil the first of the orcs collided with the battle line of the Bretonnians. In a matter of minutes the plain was full of roaring slashing men and beasts. But the line held, only just.
With a mad roar a large green skin brought his scimitar in a two handed blow down on Joan's head. Raising his shield Joan deflected the blow nearly losing his grip on it as he brought his blade in an underneath stab taking the orc in the heart, twisting the blade as he pulled out inflicting more damage and causing more black blood to flow. The fire in the orcs eyes died as it slumped forward, but Joan soon forgot this small victory as three more took its place.
All along the line men struggled with their most hated foes, giving no quarter. Out of the corner of his eye Joan saw Nathaniel calmly hamstring an orc that had just torn off the head of a man-at arms. Another flight of arrows whistled over head thudding into more of the approaching orcs. Joan deflected the blade of another red eyed daemon and ducked the swing of another. Bringing his blade in an arc he neatly cut the throat of one of his assailants and smashed his shield into the other ones face, making it reel back spitting teeth. The cries of more and more humans filled the air as the ranks of men splintered off into single combat with groups of orcs, the combat the green skins thrived in. Joan's shield spun from his grasp as an orc wielding a huge battle axe smashed it from his grip as it kicked him to the floor. Joan’s eyes blurred with pain as he watched his helmet bounce and roll away across the corpse strewn ground. He felt rough hands grabbing his throat and pulling upwards. By the Lady the beast wanted the satisfaction of tearing his throat out. As Joan felt the rancid breath wash across his face he fumbled for the knife in his belt. The orc smiled wickedly as Joan struggled in his grip, drool flecked tusks widening eagerly anticipating his flesh. Grasping the hilt Joan tore it out of its sheath and plunged it upwards through the roof of the orcs mouth. The orc slumped limp and fell to the side, blood pouring down its face. Gasping and massaging his throat Joan stumbled to his feet pulling his sword up after him.
All around him the swirling melee of combat continued and Joan saw to his dismay the superior numbers of the orcs began to tell. Despite the better training and discipline, his men were beginning to fall. A loud screaming towards his right drew his attention to one of his men impaled upon the boar’s tusk. The warboss riding it laughed and casually with a backhanded swipe of his axe separated the foot soldiers head coating his mounts head in his blood. Joan snarled in rage and began to fight his way towards the huge orc killing or maiming anything that got in his way. But Nathaniel got their first. Wielding wolf headed banner in in a two handed stroke Nathaniel gave a cry and plunged the tip of the banner head into the throat of the boar, putting all of his weight behind it as the boar began to shriek and spasm. The warboss surprised was thrown from his mount but with surprising agility got back up again almost immediately eyes blazing for vengeance. Joan ran forward as the beast brought its axe up over its head about to slay Nathaniel who was struggling to free the banner head from the dead boar’s throat.
With a mad yell Joan intercepted the blow barely holding on to the hilt, by the lady this creature was strong! Annoyed that it had been cheated out of another dead human the orc snarled and began a ferocious attack raining blows down on Joan with incredible speed and power. Somehow Joan survived the onslaught and was able to launch a counterblow but was weak and slow compared to the orc, it blocked it easily. A green elbow obscured his vision and he felt it as it smashed across his face. Reeling back Joan lashed out and caught the orc boss under the arm cutting it from its lower arm down its side. The warboss bellowed in pain and went after Joan swinging its axe down in a wide arc attempting to sever Joan’s head from his shoulders. Joan saw the blow coming and with the remains of his strength threw himself to the side feeling the air of the blade passing mere inches from his scalp. He was only barely to parry the next of the beasts lighting blows. This has to end Joan’s mind screamed at him. Joan quickly brought his blade up and feinted low and swung high and severed the hand wielding the axe. Black blood spurted from the severed limb and nerveless fingers dropped the axe. The orc stunned stared at his stump giving Joan the time needed to sever its head from its shoulders.
As the warboss’ body fell the orcs began to lose morale. “Press into them!” Yelled Joan as he saw Nathaniel fight his way besides him. “Rally to me men Hold the Line!” Joan ducked the swing of an orcs blade and tore his blade through chest splitting open the orcs belly spilling its entrails. “Hold the Line!!”