Nimmeth: The Battle of Bloodneck Valley

in #finishthestory5 years ago

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Source: Pixabay

Shog, called the Bonecrusher by his people, knew they’d lost when human horns roared across the battlefield. The Imperiate had come after all, to aid their elven allies of the Alish’tae Republic. Shog’s people, orcs of the Galak Tribe, so named after the mountain upon which they’d once lived, fought hard and well. But they fought alone.
Orcs no allies. Not even their Gods, the Old Ones, cared anymore.

As the morning sun crept above the clouds, illuminating the blood soaked fields, the Imperiate horsemen charged out from the forest. Muk’nola, matriarch of the Galaks, sounded her war horn, signalling the retreat. But it would be too late, Shog knew. Those horsemen would slaughter them as they fled. Their children, next.

An elf, empowered by the sense of looming victory, stormed forward from their line, straight towards Shog. He parried the elf’s longsword then heaved his mighty hammer, Breaker of Worlds, in a perfect arc. It smashed upon the elf’s helmeted skull, and he proved his namesake for the countless time. The elf’s head exploded in bone and carnage.

“Back!” he heard. “Fall back!” In disarray, the others around him fled towards Bloodneck Valley, where they’d encamped. Their position fell. Shog screamed to maintain the line but knew the day was lost. His people fled. He had no choice but to follow.

He reached the camp, already nearly moving again, fleeing up the valley to the highlands. Shog, exhausted, reached Zee-zee, his daughter, and Gheelah, his love. Gheelah had already packed their yurt and few remaining possessions. “Flee!” he shouted to her.

“And you?” Gheelah asked.

“I stay to hold them back.”

In typical orcish fashion, their utter devotion, love and mutual respect expressed itself only in their shared gaze, never in public, spoken word. He gripped her hand. He told Zee-zee to be strong. Gheelah nodded. Then the doy galloped away with the rest of the fleeing, broken host.

Muk-nola, matriarch, rallied the remaining Galak warriors. They reformed to a single line. Bloodneck Valley was narrow. Rocky. Layered with crimson colored clay. The land elevated as it led to the Highlands, their only advantage.

Maybe at the height of the tribe’s strength, before the humans had come with their purges and stolen their land, before the elves had arrived to ‘cleanse the world of evil’, maybe they would have been strong enough. But Shog saw they had a few hundred left. A few hundred to hold a line against an entire battalion of Imperiate horsemen and Alish’tae swordsmen, the latter no doubt already being reinforced.

The ‘Fair Folk’ would aim to eradicate the Galak now, as they fled.

Shog marched up to Muk-nola. She hailed him. “Yog-Sothoth burns in us,” she said.

“Yog-Sothoth hasn’t given a shit about us since Galak Mountain ceased its fire,” Shog replied.

Imperiate horns loomed. The sun flared, blinding Shog for a moment. Another disadvantage. The ground rumbled with the cavalry charge.

“Either way. I’ll crush his soul in hell. Right after I’m done with these Fair Folk.”

...

Across the valley, on the other side of the divide, Aredhel held on to the reins of his horse as it charged along with the rest of the Calvary. Today was the day he had waited for, the day he had spent many a sleepless night dreaming about. The day when it all came to an end.. somehow...

Yet he dreaded what he knew was coming. His father had always told him he needed to earn his place amongst his people. No elf was given anything he didn't earn for himself. And today, Aredhel was ready to carve out his chosen place.

As the calvary approached the Rocky spread of crimson clay and dried out blood patches that painted the rise of Bloodneck valley, the humans riding ahead sounded their horns again in a roar of impending victory. It was almost time.

As Aredhel had expected, the orcs that remained to hold the line against them were only about a few hundred. Plenty enough to brave the United human and elven army, yet small enough to take a chance if there was one available. "Never close out the enemy", again his father's wisdom rang in his head.

Having previously stayed behind the battle lines all through the twenty plus bloody battle hours, Aredhel now charged with renewed energy ahead of his lines. Ignoring the shouts of his superiors, he guided his horse with masterful skill across the Rocky valley. Soon he was riding at the front of the Calvary, sandwiched perfectly between the raging turbulence that was the United human and elven army, and the calm yet brewing storm that was the orcs.

He swerved to avoid a rock rolling down the valley, probably one of the defense methods of the orcish. Ten more paces and it would be perfect, any more and he may just as well have driven an orcish hammer right through his own skull. He reined his horse to a halt, and pulled out the banner from his bag. He held it high above his head...

...

Although traitors paid the death penalty regardless of which clan you belonged to, both sides of the warring armies seemed to have a little spring taken from their steps soon as Aredhel lifted that banner high. He was after all, the heir to the elvish throne, and this was no ordinary gesture.

But Shog didn't care. Whether this mad man carried the very chains of Yog-Sothoth himself, he was still a fair folk alright. And he would sooner be listening to his hammer than this coward's voice. He charged forward, his hammer perfectly hanging on his right arm. Then just as he got within throwing distance, and was about to take aim, he too came to a slow halt, the air seemingly no longer finding it's way in or out of his large lungs. Shog had heard the familiar voice, and was momentarily paralysed, but he still needed to see for his eyes. So he turned...

"Father"

From out of nowhere, Gheelah and Zee-zee appeared. And as they circled around him to stand close to the mad man with the banner, Shog knew. He knew why Geelah had been extra worried the last fortnight, and he understood why Zee-zee, his Zee-zee had not been her usual self as well.

He loved Gheelah, and even now those unspoken words that came from her eyes told him all he needed to know. What other choice did he have?

Shog curved his hand into a perfectly shaped arc, and brought the hammer full swing upon himself...

Seven moons later, Nimmeth was born...

THE END

#SladenSpeaks


Written for @bananafish's Finish the Story Contest

First part was by @dirge. Excellent beginning.

Been sick lately, but hopefully, its behind now. And I can get back to writing regularly again.


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This post was submitted for curation by: @theironfelix
This post was given a rating of: 0.7221726176118508
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Very nice plot twist! Poor Shog, this is a total defeat, all that for what he was fighting and he was ready to die, it was a lie!

Quite a tragic betrayal that asks for a second chapter with Nimmeth as a protagonist. Well done friend!

Interesting how this story unfolded, especially the stand-still part. A deafening silence between two gazes. Upvot'd and resteem'd.
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