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Message: <blockquote data-quote="seasong" data-source="post: 654263" data-attributes="member: 5137">The End of the WarbandKyriotes finally showed up, already near-exhausted by the defense of his tower (he now had reason to regret building the tallest, most impressive-looking tower in Theralis), and stood back from the battle. He cast one fire lion into the tribes, near collapsed, and then watched as the firelion was dispatched with unholy efficiency - the orcs took its charge, set their spears, and then flung themselves at it until it died.Greppa and Merideth only barely noticed. They were busy handling magical energies and trying not to collapse themselves. Athan did, however, and began to wonder if the spell casters were going to be able to influence the tide of battle at all, today.The next few hours exacted a terrible toll. The orcs, intitially driven back by the wall, turned out to have a strategist for a chieftain. And a charismatic one. Within the hour, the orcs were hammering on the shield wall again, but with dire purpose - while several orcs would guard the others with their spears, others would be tossed, mosh pit style, over the shields to lay about them until they died or opened a path for the rest of their warband to pour through. More paths opened than not, and the shield wall had to almost continuously retreat and reform.Spears were set, and many tossed orcs died, but enough got through that the usual 5-10 orcs dead per Theralis soldier had dropped to only slightly better than a one to one ratio.It was a gruesome fight, and morale was quavering, when the orcs finally withdrew. Retreating downslope at rates of speed only savages seemed to ever manage, they grinned and leered at the Theralese. The drums pounded enthusiastically, almost maniacally, and orcs stomped their spears and cavorted to the beat.It was only in the settling dust of the battlefield that the real lesson hit home: the orcs weren't attacking in individual warbands, seeking glory or glorious death. They'd fought en masse, and set their strongest units to the weak points in the shield wall. They were organized. Disciplined. Dying individually to ensure victory for the larger group.The orcs in this tribe were from the east, and were hardened by at least three years of fighting with their own kind. They were tougher and more successful than the others, not because of their numbers, but because of their tactics.Vignette: Agina's ThoughtsSomewhere upslope, Captain Agina watched the Keraunesti drag their tired bodies back from the battlefield, the almost shattered shield wall slump on their feet, other captains and soldiers both look haggard, worn, fearful. She knew that if they didn't believe in the unstoppable Theralese war machine, the war machine would not be unstoppable.She cursed the slow among the spell casters, who were only now straggling in, still tugging on tunics or sandals. She cursed the orc leader for being too smart. She cursed whatever tribe had driven this tribe here... and hoped to Hethas that they didn't come here.The orcs would attack when morale had had sufficient time to collapse, she knew. It was what she would do. So morale had to be recovered, and quickly.Swiftly, Agina strode to the General's tents. She wanted to make a pre-emptive, successful strike. Fast, hard, unexpected. She would need spell casters, and a lot of permission.</blockquote>

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