Aurelius the never-was-chief

‘Another story!’ cried the grubby, little orc child.

Wurgoth smiled down on his grandson. He’d had lots of them but this one was his favorite.

Young but clever.

‘Calm yourself Ori. I’ll tell you one more… Long ago, before even I was born, there was a battle. The first battle ever fought by the reunited tribes.

Five tribes were there. The ‘Broken lancers’ the ‘Blood-bottlers’, the ‘Meat-drippers’, the ‘Flesh-lump-eaters’ and the ‘Bone-crunchers’. All led by their chiefs…

All except our tribe. Chief Orestes had gone to slay the dragon and left his most trusted general: Aurelius in command of his army.’

Ori sat up. ‘That’s not true! Chief Orestes did lead his army into battle!’

The bald headed Wurgoth smiled. ‘Yes, you're right but he wasn’t there yet.’

Repositioning his aching bones in the sturdy, wooden chair, the old orc continued.

‘The four chiefs of the other tribes met with Aurelius and each one bowed to him and took his instruction without dissent.

Each of the five mighty armies was divided into two parts and the ten divisions were lead by a chief or general.

Aurelius the wise lead one of the Broken lance armies and the mighty Bodan the other. Each commanded a hundred and fifty men. Boden though, like the other chiefs and generals obeyed Aurelius’ orders without question.

Each of the ten armies divided themselves around Khajag: City of the Blue prince Narcissus.

A magical barrier prevented living creatures from passing through an evil, magical barrier of lightning.

Each leader was allowed to decide upon their own plan of attack but they all knew that they answered to Aurelius.

On his signal the battle was started. Some of the groups attacked from distance with arrows. Some tried to topple the spindly towers that housed the magic. Some even charged the lightning field!

Aurelius was cleverer though. With shields raised, the majority of his division advanced upon the shimmering blue field of energy. A smaller group fired arrow upon arrow at the two figures atop the tower, preventing the evil Black-cloak from using his foul magics on the advancing orcs.

The Dragon-borns fired crossbow bolts but Aurelius’ men held their shields together so no bolts could penetrate.

When they got to the crackling energy screen, they halted and thrust their long spears through.’

Wurgoth clears his throat as he sees his little grandson’s eyes start to droop.

‘The Dragon-borns were no cowards. They wanted to fight and so they advanced. They passed though the energy shield to get to our warriors. They were seemingly unhurt but this didn’t surprise Aurelius. In fact Aurelius smiled, for now, in the open, his Broken-lancers outnumbered the spread thin troops of the Dragon.

The battle was furious and unrelenting. Orc and Dragon-born alike died by the sword and spear. Aurelius though had superior numbers and the Dragon-borns had no reinforcements because they were fighting battles on all sides.’

‘And then what happened?’ Asked the young orc in awe.

‘Then?’ Wurgoth smiled. ‘Then, when only a score of Dragon-borns were still standing on our side of the magical barrier, Orestes appeared as if from nowhere atop the tower nearest them and struck the head clean from the shoulders of the Black-cloak there.’

‘Where did he come from?!’ squealed the little orc.

‘Well, that’s a different story but his actions caused the magical barrier to fail. Aurelius took advantage of the momentary confusion and charged through. He and his men killed every Black-cloak and Dragon-born they encountered but more importantly, they broke into the nearby towers and killed each mystic powering the barrier. Soon the disciplined Dragon-borns had to break formation and as soon as they did that, they were lost.’

The old orc pulls himself to his feet and kisses his grandson on the forehead.

‘Many orcs died in that battle but it was a great victory. The tribes reunited. Thereanthor’s son killed and enough treasure found to provide all the weapons needed to fight the coming war. Your great, great grandfather fought that day. He was barely more than a boy himself but he always said it was the proudest day of his life.’

The little orc’s eyes were now nearly closed, ‘Was wise Aurelius ever a chief?’

‘No my grandson. Never a chief but instead he became so much more. He became the Chief of chiefs’… ‘But that’s also another story’.

Horde of the ring

Aurelius: general of Orestes' army, stares blearily at his battle plans. It shows a small city approximately a mile in from the circle of slender towers that surround it.
A ring of death.

The vast majority of Narcissus’ defending forces will be positioned just within this circle of blue light.

If he can get past that first barrier, the city itself will be no obstacle.

But how?

His attention is pulled jarringly from his plans by a young orc guard.

‘Sir, we have some new arrivals.’

The boy looks a bit unnerved but rather than ask him to expand upon his statement, Aurelius, flanked by several of his trusted men, strides past the boy and out of his tent.

It is Aurelius though who is shocked now.

In front of him are hundreds of armed orcs.

Orcs baring the crimson and black tribal markings of the ‘Blood-bottlers’.

Looking around, Aurelius finally finds the broken-tusked, smiling face of Auzoux: Newly crowned chief of his tribe.

‘Auzoux, what are you doing here?’

Auzoux is larger and younger than Aurelius but his intelligence is quite apparent.

‘When we were packing up in preparation to move out, a few of my men noticed your group heading away from the main compound. Away but without your women, children and weak. I confronted the few warriors that you’d left behind and they told me of your plan.’

Aurelius looks up into Auziux’ battle-scarred face but lets the other orc continue talking.

‘I’ve brought about half my force. Three hundred fighting orcs. If you’re going to war, we want in!’

Aurelius can’t help but smile. What seemed like hopeless odds have just changed dramatically.

‘I’m glad that makes you happy, as all the other chiefs are just a few hours behind me. Knut leads over two hundred of his Meat-drippers. Ragnar, from the Flesh-lump-eaters has about the same and Unger was bringing up the rear with a hundred of his Bone-crunchers!’

Aurelius steps forward and grasps Auzoux by the forearm. ‘My friend, you are more than welcome. You are all most welcome. With over a thousand orcs, this battle will go down in history!’

Warfare is based on deception

Standing at the head of his army, Aurelius breaks though the last of the trees and organizes his troops along the dirt road.

Three hundred orcs.

Three hundred fighting orcs!

Ten times the number he’s been used to commanding.

It’s a shockingly large number and he knows that every one of them will give their all in the upcoming battle.

Khajag is still hours away but Aurelius knows that the Blue prince’s dragon-born troops will already be waiting for them. He made no attempt to hide from the ever-present raven familiars circling overhead.

Narcissus will know they’re coming.

That was their primary objective though. To trick Narcissus into posting his forces away from his palace. To deprive the young dragon of support when his chief Orestes strikes.

Noon tomorrow.

Camp is set, fires are made and food is cooked.

No reason for subtlety.

Aurelius can’t rest though. He has struggled for two days to come up with a plan that will enable some of his brave orcs survival.

The battle, though vital, is unwinable.

Three hundred orcs verses at least four times that number of spell-casting Black-cloaks and Dragon-born warriors. And that’s not even including the thousand odd kobold skirmishers.

He does have two advantages though:

The first is that the blue barrier, though impressive, isn’t actually a barrier at all. It may stop living creatures passing through but it does nothing to prevent arrows or bolts.

The second is that although Narcissus’ troops massively outnumber his own, they will have to spread themselves thinly around the whole city.

…

Advantages true but still not enough to win…

Cheap ale and a bad (w)omen

Orestes and his generals talk late into the evening. Ale is flowing freely but the mood within the large, animal skin tent is upbeat and unified.

It’s Aurelius who again causes the conversation to alter course.

‘My leader, none of us has the experience to know what is to be done. Our people have been fractured for so long. Too long. Our traditions are all but lost.’

The middle-aged orc looks into the younger faces of all those around him before continuing.

‘Many orcs answered the gnomish call. Mostly male warriors but the very young and old also. Women looking to help also came. Some of them warriors and a few who’d kept safe the old ways...’

Momentarily locking eyes with Orestes and finding support there, Aurelius dares to continue.

‘There are only a few. Wise women all but the wisest one amongst them can foresee the future.’

Bodan grimaces ‘I distrust magic. Steel is all I put my faith in’.

Orestes though, understands what Aurelius is alluding to. ‘Send for her. If we’re to rebuild this clan, then we need to rebuild the old ways’.

A messenger is sent and after a short while, the tent flap is pushed back. An ancient looking orcess edges in. Her grey hair is matted, her back bent and through a toothless mouth she introduces herself.

‘I am Klok Gumma. Keeper of the ancient secrets.’

She shuffles forward and peers at Orestes, ‘Let me see this would-be-chief.’

Her eyes are wide but surprisingly clear.

Snorting derisively, she squats down in the middle of everyone and noisily retrieves objects from her sack…

A large wooden bowl, a silver knife, some dried leaves, a live chicken and some finger bones inscribed with orcish runes.

The wizened old orcess, sets fire to the dried leaves and wafts the smoke around the tent. The smell is acrid and makes everyone’s eyes burn.

Then she cuts the head off the chicken and pours some of its blood into the bowl. Muttering half-formed words, Klok Gumma takes the inscribed bones and tosses them into the bloody bowl.
Agitiating the small bones with her fingers, the wise women begains to relate what she can see...

'Your reign will begin with fire. Many of our people will die in a terrible battle but they will die willingly. They will die by the sword and so be delivered direct to Gruumsh. More fights will follow but eventually the dawning of a new sun will signal the end of our struggles… Adversity is what we must suffer under your stewardship but we will survive. We will remain a unified tribe.’

Orestes looks disturbed but surprisingly the others don’t.

‘Don’t look so concerned’ says Aurelius reassuringly. ‘Did you imagine everything would be plain sailing?’

Bodan laughs out loud at this.

‘Did you actually WANT it to be easy? What kind of orc are you?’

(T)orc of war

Dokan finds himself in a strange situation. Surrounded by friendly orcs and a trusted ally of their new chief.

Orestes: Chief of the Broken lance tribe.

Aurelius and Orestes are starting to discuss their immediate future when the entrance to the tent opens up and the hulking Bodan strides in.

‘I am here to pay homage to my new chief!’

Bodan was named after his father: Konan, a great, savage warrior and Bodush: The evil human sorcerer that infamously killed hundreds of orcs in the battle that destroyed the Broken lance clan. Scores of children were killed that day. Children that would never be avenged.

As the mighty Bodan bows, a diminutive gnome is revealed behind him.

Gauss smiles nervously as they’re both ushered to sit with the others.

Ale flows and soon the conversation turns to war.

War against Thereanthor and war against the Blue prince.

Orestes speaks of the possibility of leading his new army against the Blue prince…

‘Outrageous!’ squeaks the gnome.

‘This was never part of our plan. You would alert Thereanthor of our machinations and bring ruin to us all!’

The gnome looks to the others for support but finds none.

Bodan is already smiling at the prospect of battle. 
‘For so long, I have battled alone. Killing Dragon-borns and Black-cloaks wherever I could. But always small scale for I lacked any support. Now though, perhaps I can cause the accursed Thereanthor more trouble…’

Votton and Elige nod in agreement and Gauss looks horrified.

‘No! I forbid it!’

At this, Aurelius looks annoyed.

‘You ‘forbid’ it do you? Although I appreciate what you’ve done for us, never forget who and what we are. We are the Broken lance clan. We are warriors born. We are reunited at last and we have a strong leader. We are your friends but we are not your servants.’

Gauss cowers under Aurelius’ gaze before the grizzled orc continues.

‘The Blue prince now knows for certain that there is a gathering of the orcs. A large gathering. If we all flee, he or his bitch mother will hunt us down… If a large number of us fight though…’

Aurelius stops as he considers the situation but Gauss interrupts.

‘What you’re offering is a distraction while we evacuate the camp? This actually isn’t a bad proposition. Let me broker it with my superiors.’

And with that, Gauss leaves the tent.

Bodan laughs. ‘I like the little fellow but surely the Gnomes opinion has no baring on what we’re going to do.’

‘No’ agrees Aurelius, ‘But it doesn’t hurt to keep our friends contented’.

Orestes looks at his two generals, his human and tiefling friends and the orcs in his tent.

His orcs.

All told, he’s got over four hundred orcs willing to fight for him.

Willing to die for him!

Should he risk them in a battle against the Blue prince or should he lead them to the safety of Mount Sneafang?

He hasn’t even been officially crowned yet but responsibility already feels heavy on his brow.

Diamond another day

As Dokan wanders unmolested, around the delineated orc sub-camps, he feels the demonic part of him whisper...

‘So many orcs! So much easy wealth to be had!’

This is no surprise to him. It’s the price he has to pay for his bisected soul.

A Tiefling Paladin.

Oddly, he is not that unusual amongst his people.

A rarity to be sure but not unheard of.

He wonders what the amassed army of orcs and their gnomish ‘helpers’ would think if they knew about his meeting with the young dragon?

Narcissus had behaved exactly as he’d expected him to act…

Arrogance was a trait that all dragons shared.

As a dragon prince in line to the throne of all of Fissa; how could he be anything else?

Dokan’s mind wanders back to the list of names on the Black cloaks scroll:

The dead Morten had been on it.

5,000 gold pieces worth of diamonds for a head they already had!

It’d be so easy to claim.

Aurelius and Bodan, the two other orcs that had fought for the right to rule the 'Broken-lance' clan were also on the list.

Another 5,000 gold pieces for Aurelius and double that for the hulking Bodan.

In conversation he’d also heard mention of some of the other ‘wanted’ names in the other camps.

‘Auzoux’ had already been crowned Chief of the ‘Blood-bottlers’ and ‘Knut’ and ‘Ragnar’ were due to be coronated chiefs of the ‘Meat-drippers’ and the ‘Flesh-lump-eaters’.

Looking around the thousands of orcs, Dokan was pretty sure the other named orcs would also be near somewhere. Possibly within the ranks of the remaining reformed clan, the ‘Bone-crunchers’.

‘Unger’, ‘Harang’, ‘Stig’ and ‘Viggo’.

20,000 gold pieces just for those four!

Then, despite his wishes, Dokan's thoughts stray to the hundred and sixty eight decapitated orc heads, sitting ready in a wagon by ‘Mallyx’ the, now dead, black dragon-born’s camp.

That’s 1,680 gold pieces worth of diamonds, just sitting there!

Closing his eyes and shaking his horns, Dokan forces the thought from his head.

Giving in to temptation is not the way of paladins.

There can only be one.

Bodan vs Aurelius

The odds were set and the bets taken. As far as the crowd was concerned, the outcome of this battle was a foregone conclusion.

Bodan was a good head taller and at least twenty years younger. Better yet, he had claimed scores of Black-cloak lives and no one had reason to doubt him.

His opponent: Aurelius, was already in his middle years and the many scars he carried couldn’t disguise the age lines he wore.

They stood facing each other while the crowd cheered and heckled in turn. All of the crowd except Aurelius’ band of twenty-nine men.

Including Aurelius, that made thirty men. The exact limit placed upon the orcs by Thereanthor herself.

Any more and he would be breaking her laws but as it was, he was thumbing his snout at her.

His men were obviously behind their leader but they merely watched. Silently willing their commander to win.

The bell clanged a single note and before the reverberation had started to fade, Bodan had already lunged forward, slicing down with his mighty two-handed Great-axe.

Aurelius blocked with his shield and moved, countering when able.

He was noticeably staggered under the relentless blows but he kept his head and stubbornly stayed on his feet.

Bodan on the other hand, was ferocious but seemed indifferent to his own defence.

Slowly the small cuts inflicted by Aurelius mounted up.

Worse, after a few minutes, Bodan seemed to stumble, as if afflicted by some inner conflict.

Some inner weakness.

Sensing his opportunity, Aurelius switched from defensive to an aggressive stance. Forcing the surprised Boden back towards the spiked outer ring.

Despite the sudden pain in his stomach, the giant orc battled on and the crowd could see the anger and confusion in his face.

Eventually though, Bodan was felled, not by Aurelius’ sword but by a deft shield blow to the side of his opponents head.

Bodan went down, stunned.

Aurelius stepped over the prone body and raised his sword high for the killing blow…

Some of the audience gasped.

Some of them roared and urged Aurelius to land the deathblow.

Instead, after a moment, the older of the combatants sheathed his sword and proffered his hand to the massive orc looking defiantly up at him.

Bodan looked suspicious but then accepted it.

Hefting the larger orc to his feet, Aurelius faced the crowd.

‘I have defeated Bodan but do not misjudge him. He is still a greater warrior than I.’

The baying of the crowd slowly abated and Aurelius continued.

 ‘I was victorious because Bodan gave no thought to his own mortality. He is a true orc hero and, should I win the next battle to become chief of the Broken lancers, he will stand at my side; an honoured General. He will lead our army and remind me that Gruumsh awaits all brave orcs.’

Boden looked down on his opponent with an expression of momentary confusion. After a few seconds though, he smiled and looked up at the mass of orcan faces around him.

He raised Aurelius’ right hand and shouted to all that could hear him…

‘Cheer for Aurelius! Cheer for the only orc to best me since my father’

The crowd roared their approval as Aurelius and Bodan clasped each other’s hands in friendship.