Ranger Chronicles Ep. 02

***

Drugi's Orcs had taken the fifth level and regrouped. They'd then taken the fourth and third levels with little resistance as the While the Ghosts were in shock. After the Drow had caught on they'd responded with force, sending every Ghost they could to prevent the Orcs from taking the second level. Their floor had since become a field of blood.

Drugi observed the battle from a building in the main room. Crag of Wolf-Teeth and Gavgola of Rock-Beast stood behind him, 'guarding' him from any Ghost that strayed inside the building. The other Warchiefs had insisted he stay hidden. Even they recognized that if their unifying figure died the battle was over. It was pathetic. Drugi didn't need guards. He was no weak Human King, he was Warrior of the Plains. He was the son of Throk. This was his plan. He should be able to take part in the glory.

He looked to his left, where two-hundred of Clan Dhul were captured in a mine. The Drow women children stood like sheep, just waiting to be slaughtered. He'd enjoy himself butchering them later. Yet later wasn't enough. He wanted carnage now. Just being on this level brought his Warrir-State to unfathomable levels of anger.

The Nimiri clan had first placed the Anger-Beasts to work in the mines on this level. Females, younglings and the most noble of Warmaidens had been forced to dig for gemstones until their hands were bare and skinless. It was then that the Anger-Beasts had truly realized that they were slaves. Drugi himself had worked for years as youngling in these mines until the Nimiri clan forced him to fight in their war with the Rangers. His grip on the windowsill tightened. Its stone fractured. He remembered all the Drow who'd brought them to this point. He hated their smug, superior faces and cowardly ways. He yearned to butcher every last one of them.

His second goal, ending the Nimiri Clan was all cut accomplished. Their men were either dead or Cock-Sleeves for the Anger-Beasts, and their women were all Cock-Sleeves. The Nimiri Younglings had been sent to the Plains to be raised as Slaves for the Anger-Beasts. Indeed, all two-thousand of the Nimiri Clan were now gone. Except for Jhannel Nimiri. He'd scoured the entire damned Mountain, yet she was nowhere to be found. Oh well, she was likely butchered during the uprising. He'd find her body later.

Drugi observed as Orcs and Drow fought in houses, alleys, and mines. The giant gemstone on the ceiling was dimmer than usual, yet it still provided enough light to see the mounds of Orc corpses piled up here and there. Drugi estimated his host to be around two thousand fighting against possibly five hundred Ghosts and their Ogres. Despite their numerical advantage they'd not gained any ground. The Drow magic was simply too strong. Whatever happened now was Balthazar's will.

His attention turned downwards. Drugi observed an alleyway below him where a unit of Ghosts shredded through a unit of Black-Bloods. The Ghosts sliced through as shimmers of air. Screams of terror and pain reached his hears. They were unbearable.

That's it.

Drugi leapt out the window. The protests of Crag of Wolf-Teeth and Gavgola echoed above him.

He landed in the middle of the Ghost unit, slamming foot-first into one, crushing his its midsection. The Ghosts turned in shock. In a flash he drew his hammer and swung it in a circular path, killing any Ghost that got too close. His hammer slammed against heads; it crushed arms and caved in stomachs. Drow collapsed before him. Each kill only increased his bloodlust. He needed to kill. He bore his tusks towards the ceiling, puffed his chest, and let out a fierce roar. Soon, the level echoed with the roars of Warrior-State.

"I am Drugi of Anger-Beast, son of Throk!" He yelled in the Orc tongue. The Orcs cheered him on. "No longer are we slaves! Butcher them! Consume them!"

"I am Zorn of Black-Blood!" Yelled another Orc. "No slave!"

"I am Dav-Darn of the Rock-Beast." Said another. "No slave!"

"I am Sarzor of the Wolf-Teeth!" Said another. "No slave!"

A chorus of Orcs erupted across the floor. They were enthusiastic, they were angry. Garthrand was falling and they all knew it. The Ghosts couldn't keep this up forever. All they needed once one final, solid, strike and Garthrand was done.

Drugi continued, a force of nature. The unit of Black-Bloods at his back roared him on. A unit of Ghosts and Soldier-Drow approached ahead. These Soldier-Drow were not warriors, but regular Drow the Ghosts had given weapons. Drugi could tell from they way they carried their weapons that they lack experience.

A Soldier-Drow charged him. He was an old with greyed hair. His movements were slow and wasteful. Drugi smacked his blade aside and slammed his hammer into his Drow's head, crushing his skull. The Ghosts charged him but were met by the Black-Bloods at his back. Their units crashed into each other with Drugi in the middle.

It was loud. Very, very, loud. Even as the Warrior-State blunted his thought, Drugi realized this was the loudest thing he'd ever experienced. No battle on the Plains or against the Rangers was ever this loud. The battle was pure chaos. Drugi charged forward, smashing any Ghost that dared challenge him.

Next to him, a Ghost stuck an Orc in the eye with a dagger. The Orc cried in pain as his blood became one with red floor. He collapsed to the ground. Another Orc took vengeance, punching the Ghost in the chest. The Ghost, his chest crushed, fell to ground dead.

An Ogre appeared through the ranks. It was tall with grey-green skin, a big belly, and a dumb face. The Ogre brought its wicked club in a wide arc, felling an entire line of Orcs. Drugi rushed the beast. His hammer shattered the Ogre's club and struck its belly. The Ogre vomited streams of green, clumpy fluid. Drugi brought his hammer upwards, hitting the Ogre's chin. It fell to the ground with a thump.

The Ghosts inched back. Their eyes were wide as they stared at him. He could smell their fear. They were prey.

A chorus of Human voices joined the fray.

***

Kalan rushed through the halls with his unit behind him. Jhannel kept pace with him at his side. He could hear their exhaustion. They'd climbed the entire damned mountain, clearing level after level of Drow and Ogres. Thanks to the Soldier-Drow's complete lack of battle experience and Kalan dealing with the Ogres they'd lost no men -- thank Tyr -- but it was exhausting. He knew he wouldn't be able to use mana for much longer. Only Tyr knew how the naked slaves had managed to keep pace with them. It was likely their fear of death was just that strong.

They reached the steps. There was no resistance on this level -- why? The answer was clear when the sounds of pitched battle became clear. They were entering a battlefield. This was the revolt that had been diverting the Drow's attention.

There was no clear way through. Every alley or path was another pitched battle. In some areas the mounds of Orc corpses were so high and thick they might have been walls. The Drow would see them as foes and the Orcs wouldn't discriminate between Drow and non-Drow. They'd have to fight through both. The only way through was to push forward and hope their rear wasn't attacked. They'd hug the wall for now.

"Stay to the right side of the wall! Charge!" They formed a shieldwall to their right for forward movement. "Ralph! Get a wall going that way!"

"Aye!" Replied Ralph. The men on Ralph's side formed another wall ahead, blocking any Orc or Drow that dared rush them. They were now formed in a large, deadly square. "Forward!" They walked against the right wall, spears in all directions. Kalan dashed through the lines, ready to intercept any Ghost, Warchief, or Ogre his unit couldn't handle.

They cut their way forward through the chaos, heading straight for the steps. The final steps.

A unit of Orcs charged them head on. Kalan dashed forward to meet them. He caught the first unaware, decapitating it with a clean stroke. He struck the second with an Arc-Bolt, sending the beast flying. The rest of the Orcs were quickly enveloped and eliminated by his unit.

"Go on you dolts!" Yelled Kalan. "We're going home!"

"Stop!" Yelled a voice from the fray. "Stop!" Kalan saw a Warchief bearing a warhammer dashing straight towards them. "I am Drugi, son of Throk!"

"You want to become Orc-shit?" Added Cleitus. "Let's go!" The unit rushed out the doorway.

The light of the clear blue sky filled the hall. They stepped out into the cold, snow-covered peaks of the Dragon's Nest. They looked down and saw endless spires of rock and snow. The cold air blew in their faces. The war-cry of the Orcs grew closer behind them.

"The Sea! The Sea!" Yelled Cleitus.

Author's Note: Thanks for reading my story. The reason this took so long to come out is because I had no clear plan for the story and had to rewrite some stuff. I feel like I could have gone more in-depth in this episode had I established a good foundation in the first. For future stories I'll plan well to avoid this. I read this over and think It could have been a lot better but will submit it as it is. I'll try to learn from the good author's on here.