Into battle once more

As more arrows arc through the clearing mist, a command rings out.

“Shields up!”

The line braces as the deadly rain slams into the upraised shields, sounding like hail upon a rooftop. Here and there, an arrow slips past, drawing grunts of pain and cries for the medic. The champions endure the deluge as well, largely staying behind Koa. The huge man hefts a shield that could double as a vault door, blocking most of the incoming arrows. Those that do make it through are absorbed by the smaller shields of the other champions. One slams into Kael’s shield, the impact knocking him back a step.

Thankfully, the arrow storm doesn’t last long, and soon stops. Koa casts aside his shield, and unlimbers his hammer, while the other champions do the same. Kael draws his shortswords, eying the advancing line of Karlian troops. There’s less than he expected, and there’s something happening behind them, but there’s no time to investigate as the enemy starts to charge.

Kael can feel the tension as the line braces, time seeming to slow as the distance closes.

Perhaps a hundred feet away.

Ninety.

Eighty.

Another order rings out. “Loose!”

A swarm of javelins flies overhead, slamming into the charging soldiers. Most are warded by shields, but some hit home.

Fifty feet now.

Forty.

Thirty.

Close enough to see the faces behind shields. Grim determination. Even some fear, especially those soon to be facing the champions.

Twenty feet.

Ten.

Koa roars, hurling himself forward to meet the charge. The champions follow suit, and with a sound like a thunderclap, the lines meet. Kael’s perception narrows, focused only on the opponent in front of him. He lunges, batting aside a spear thrust and plunging his sword into the warrior’s throat. Tearing the blade free he moves to the next, dispatching them with similar ease.

There’s a flash of blue light as Ria slams an axe into the chest of her opponent, a flare of lightning bursting from her weapon. At the same time, her other axe trails fire as she chops aside a shield, before flattening the bearer with a savage kick. Another fiery chop ends his life.

Orin is simply a blur. A whirlwind of blades, any who face him are slain, sometimes before they even realize they have been hit. His usual flippant demeanor vanishes in the heat of battle, and he focuses instead on the **** he delivers.

A chanting can be heard, Koa singing a dirge as he fights. His hammer rises and falls, rises and falls, like some kind of runaway engine of destruction. Leading the way, he disdains any sort of defense, and blades rebound from his armor with little effect. The giant man leaves behind a trail of crushed bodies and shattered armor, blazing a trail into the enemy lines.

Kael can feel the shift in battle even as it occurs, before even hearing the command from the enemy line. The pressure on them eases, and they see the Karlian forces pulling back. It’s tempting to push forward, to try to turn it into a rout, but it’s clear there’s something else happening here. From behind the withdrawing lines, Kael can see what looks to be fresh troops moving forward. A second wave, it seems.

As they regroup, Kael looks along the line. It seems like things have gone well this far, with most of the dead being among the Karlians. Still, this second wave will likely tell the story. Looking across the battlefield, he notices that there’s something odd about the second line. They’re moving slowly, almost shuffling. As he watches, however, a mist begins to rise once again, obscuring their approach. Clearly the work of magic, the fog reduces the approaching figures to dark shadows, though it’s still obvious that they’re moving oddly.

No arrows preclude the next attack, and it’s oddly quiet. No battle cries, no shouted orders. The cries of the wounded and the sounds of metal are the only noise. Kael watches with growing trepidation as the shadows in the mist come closer. There’s a faint glow to each, something emanating light. Closer they come, and Kael feels a tightness in his chest as the shapes seem to become more solid.

And less human.

The first figure emerges from the mist, muscular and tall, green skinned and tusked. An orc, carrying a massive sword, wearing little but a loincloth and a collar around his neck. A collar engraved with glowing runes. A collar Kael immediately recognizes. The same one he saw in his dream.

There’s panic in the eyes of the orc as he slowly shuffles forwards, as if he’s trying to be anywhere but here. And yet, his feet carry him forward, the blade in his hand rising. Behind him, other non-humans emerge from the mist, similarly shuffling forward mindlessly. They all have the same look of panic in their eyes, the same rune etched collar about their neck.

The Karlians are sending slaves as fodder. The dream…

Ria touches Kael’s arm. “This is…your dream…what do we do?”

Kael simply stares at the slowly approaching slaves. He feels numb. His swords drop from trembling hands. The thought of slaughtering these…innocents, he can’t. Can he? This can’t be what’s happening! There has to be something…

The horde closes the distance, weapons raised. Something has to happen. But what?