The morning dawn streaked across the sky, the respite had concluded. The two armies faced each other, both sides grimly knowing only one would leave. The day before yesterday, the orcs and beast-men had managed to even the number during the stalemate. As such, both armies held only 2,000 soldiers, humongous losses for any army especially since both had well over 10,000 only a couple days prior. Many warriors were unable to rest and relax properly the day before. Even though they were safe from harm, their warrior instincts had prevented them from acquiring needed sleep. Ruckgevir stood in front of the army, eyeing the enemy carefully. They had returned to a defensive strategy, their backs right on the forests edge for a tactical retreat. Ruckgevir was tired, and from his fatigue he missed obvious signs of a trap. He came to the false conclusion that his gut feeling was wrong, it was just bad rations. If this was two days ago, he’d have known to immediately retreat the army to Poius. This was a mistake that would forever haunt his career, a nearly irredeemable folly.

Fallion sighed and stretched in place slightly. Just enough to get the blood pumping, but not enough to disturb the surrounding fighters. Everyone was tense, after Condek and Drusis died, most had begun to consider they might die today, well, all except the bastard Nerxus. He was too arrogant and sure of his skill. Neumien was more skilled then him, and even she was certain she’d die today. The tension in the air was unbearably brutal and harsh. He began wanting to just read a good book, and sip hot tea in an easy chair looking over beautiful scenery, than be in the army anymore. He thought when he signed up it be a lot more fun. Guess life is full of disappointments, hm?

Fallion took notice of their surroundings, they were standing in the middle of the plains without any nearby cover. A bad feeling grew immediately as Ruckgevir began to give the signal to charge. Then something happened. Just as they were about to attack them, the enemy army retreated into the forest. No one was sure what to do, and Ruckgevir wasn’t sure what to make of it.

“By gods hand, the hell is this?!” He was fuming, orcs were not the kind to just leave a fight. They would fight to death or unconsciousness, fear wasn’t something you could associate with the race. So what by Joürmunggers ax was this?! Orcs retreating before battle even started?! There had to be tactic here. But they lacked mages. Even if they had them, the orcs would devastate the forest, something the elves wouldn’t be keen on hearing as the forest was unspoken elvish territory, all forests were.

He shook his head and furrowed his brow fuming. He felt disgraced, angry even. This was an insult from one ‘warrior’ to another. No, he could not call his so called opponents warriors now. Cowards, pussies, milk-drinkers the lot. Dragoth, he’d even go as far as to call them Gunnervaggs, a derogatory term for the poor, cripple, and disabled. Of course, he loathed the word, as it once would have described his families wealth, which was none, but in this situation, Ruckgevir couldn’t damn care. The normally calm and collected leader he was, was insulted. This was not a transgression he would take lightly.

But what could he do? After all, when our dear General Denos charged in their, they were annihilated, and they had a whole day worry free. There could be hundreds of traps waiting to be sprung by his forces. He cursed silently, he considered this was bait to destroy his forces. He wouldn’t fall for it. No, he’d sit here doing nothing, forcing those pigs to crawl back out here and fight like the damn already should be instead of cowering in the forest sucking on their mothers teat.

He gave orders to his commanders to wait them out, as well as send a messenger to Poius for supplies, who knows how long the fight would be dragged on for after all? He sat down and began twiddling his thumbs, ordering all soldiers to stay alert. He drew plans in the grass and dirt mentally. Deciding how best to make those spineless warriors pay for this embarrassment.

Orcish camp

She smiled fangs bared and a throaty laugh escaped her twisted muzzle, they had done a little research on the acting commander and they had discovered he only had one single flaw when fighting. Warriors pride. Something only those with delusions should have, and definitely not a commander. Juroi sent the orders for the ‘fun’ to begin. She climbed a tree, as many others of her kind did, to watch the gruesome show.

Goro felt guilty, after knowing what kind of commander he faced, he wished to fight him one on one, to sate both their honors. However, the council demanded results, even their king said to cast aside their honor this fight. It showed how serious he wanted the first punch to be. He cast the spell eagle-eye, a spell any commander had to know to reach a high rank. He watched intently for the massacre to begin

9th assault force

It happened quickly, the day was clear and large shadows suddenly cast and began to grow upon the army. They fell, it was likely a mountain was falling on top of them, some screamed, others stood still in fear. The earth itself was launching towards them. Rocks large enough to demolish a fair sized house crushed the army. Admier was hit by the very first one, she didn’t even get a chance to respond. Just a second ago, she was venting at Fallion for being forced to stand there, then there was stone, only inches from Fallions nose.

He turned and looked in shock, a single word came to mind ‘catapults’. It was a type of weaponry the world had yet to see, until now that is. Some began crying and praying. The army was a mess, it couldn’t be recovered. Others died, Fallion couldn’t think straight, he hadn’t expected this. He wanted to go home to his computer, his technology his family. His mother was probably...the memory disappeared. Right now it wasn’t Fallion the god thinking, it was Fallion the feeble human he once was. Divinity wasn’t something he had completely embraced mentally, he couldn’t after all. It is inconceivable a mortal could ever reach a divine mentality, right? He stepped back, rocks that should crush him diverted last second. As such the only members of the 33rd platoon was Neumien, Fallion, Valder, Nerxus, and Tali. Everyone was dead. The army in mere minutes was nearly gone, but the rocks kept coming. He began hyperventilating, fear gripped his mind. He began losing his grasp on reality. He began praying to god for this to...why? Why did he feel the need to pray for some miracle? Why did he want something else to save him. He IS god, yet why couldn’t he do anything.

Nerxus beside him suddenly fell to his knees, and cried out prayers for salvation to ‘god’ unknowing he was just as useless as him at the moment. Nerxus cried out for a divine crusader. Then something happened, Fallion stood still, his eyes began glowing a dim gold, and the illusion that made him not look as beautiful as he was faded. He had put it on before arriving into the border city. It would be problematic if he was being starred at all the time, yet he removed it. The man in the body wasn’t Fallion the mortal anymore. The switch was flipped. He was The God of the Realm, Avantiour as many called him.

He turned towards Nerxus “And what is god, Nerxus?” his voice was soft, yet the words carried over to every dwarf still alive. Nerxus turned, facing upwards to Fallion. His eyes filled with tears and fear, his mouth agape from terror, his mind was blank from the golden stare. Power, knowledge, mercy, and pity now radiated from every pore of ‘Fallion’. Nerxus could not do any form of response. After all, he was in front of God himself, in all his righteous glory.

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I was reading other people stories procrastinating a little when boom, the chapter hit me and here it is. I hope you enjoy this chapter, as always leave any and all criticisms you have in the comments, or better yet leave me a review so I can see as a whole what needs to be done to improve.