Orc Invasion

The Village Square
The village square is where many inhabitants of the Ofcol gather to talk, trade and sell items, and just have a good time. You see a small shop to the west and the local inn to the north, while the town entrance can be seen to the south.
Exits: north south west
Feilim Boru - Blade of The Red Branch is hovering here.

An Ofcol village man runs in from the south.

Doyle rides in steadily on his horse, the horse trots into the square as he pulls the reigns to pull his mount to a halt, he glances around surveying the area.

An Ofcol village man runs west.

It starts to rain.

An Ofcol village man frantically runs in from the north.

Feilim is sat on the ground polishing his new blade. As Doyle approaches he leaps to his feet.

Feilim exclaims 'Sir!'

An Ofcol village man hasitly runs south.

Doyle nods slowly to Feilim from his mount, he slowly slides himself off to his feet, he takes a step closer to Feilim as he speaks, "Good you are here.. I hope you are ready, Sinfonian and Orcadian have gone north to prepare against the other orc group.." he says sternly.

Feilim twists thread aroung one of his dreadlocks. "I fight for the denfence of our race and the honour of The Red Branch my Lord"

An Ofcol village woman hurries through the square.

Doyle nods sharply, "Good, we do not have much time. The army is setting up near the entrance, we have archers set on the wall.. I figure we outnumber the Orcs, at least two to one." he says museingly.

Feilim nods. "Just point me in the right direction!" His attempt at bravado belies his nervousness.

Doyle nods again solemnly, "Aye…" he stops and glances around once more, smelling the air.. "They are coming.." he says in a loud whisper.

Feilim crouches poised. His eyes dart around attempting to percieve what Doyle has noticed but to no avail.

An Ofcol village man runs through the square with his wife and son.

Doyle puts a hand on Feilim's shoulder, "They are not right in front of our faces.. they are off, outside nearing the wall. I've fought them too much to forget their smell.." he says in a monotoned voice.

Feilim gasps as he hears the distant drums.

Feilim spits on the ground. "Orcs claimed the eldest of my village years ago. I am one of the few warriors left to protect the women and children"

Doyle squints his eyes as an even more serious look overcomes his face, "It is time." he says in a harshly stern voice, he holds his hand up to his mouth, "Prepare!" he shouts loudly through the village, the clanking of metal fills the village as many well armed soldiers trot into the square surrounding the two.

An Ofcol village woman runs through the square desperatly seeking shelter.

Feilim marvels at the discipline of the marching units.

Doyle crosses his arms as he listens to the Orc war cries in the distance as they grow closer to the gate, the sound of arrows swooshing out fills the square as does the grunting of Orcs being impaled by the arrows.

Feilim yells calling on the red Rage of his ancestors. His yell melts into the cacophony of the warcries of the other soldiers - older more experienced in war - but with one true objective - repel the hoarde.

Doyle's eyes draw up to the commanding officer on the battlements as the commander cries out to Doyle, "They are ramming the gate!" he shouts as the thud sounds of bodys impaling the gate fill the area, Doyle cries back, "Hold steady!" he yells, then glances about him, "Ok listen up, there is no way we can avoid not fighting them hand to hand, they may be big and strong, but they are slow and not very agile, remeber that." he says instructingly.

Feilim nods quickly. turning anxiety into energy he runs towards the gate along with a small group of soldiers - all drawing their swords and pulling down visors.

Feilim notices more and more archers falling from the battlements - slain by an as yet unseen hand.

**crack** The gate begins to splinter…

Doyle looks sharply as Feilim runs toward the gate, the commander atop the battlement yells down to Doyle, "They are almost through!" Doyle nods sharply as he looks back the the group near the gate, "Stay back, hold your position here!" he shouts then looks back the the group near the gate, "Stay back, hold your position here!" he shouts then looks back to the commander, "Fall back and draw melee weapons!" he shouts.

Feilim looks stunned at the gate cracks again - buckling under an enormous force.

Doyle watches as the gate crashes in dust flying up, Orcs piling through, some with torches in hand, others hammers or swords, he draws his sword as he cries out, "Attack!" as he follows forth toward the oncoming Orcs.

Feilim glances up at the battlements above the gate. Orcs swarming through and over -surely there are more here than Doyle expected? No time to think - Feilim lunges forward - flailing his blade with a thirst for orc redness.

Doyle stops sharply in front of an orc twice his side as the Orc tries to bring his hammer down upon him, he quickly sidesteps and slashes across the Orcs gut, dropping the orc to his knees as he swings back, decapitating the Orc, he turns quickly as another comes, the sounds of metal and war cries filling the areas as the humans fight on.

The rain begins to patter.

Feilim almost stumbles in surprise as the large soldier standing in front of him falls to his knees - a large axe embedded in his collar. The oddshaped orc holding it glares evilly at Feilim and attempts to pull back his weapon from the slain sentry. An eerie pause plays out as both parties realise that the axe is stuck.

Doyle quickly stabs another Orc running at him, then another Orc approaches and swings his sword wildly at him, he blocks with his sword but it gets knocked away out of his grip, he moves with the motion of the disarming and turns around and lets a kick fly behind him, heel hitting the Orc in the groin as he pulls one of his hammers from his back and steps forward swinging the hammer across, smashing the Orcs head in. He swings his hammer side to side gracefully as he watches the other humans clutter together facing off with the orcs, and the dead bodies of both Orc and human cluttered on the ground.

Feilim ~suddenly the roar of something unseen stops Feilim in his tracks. A dark lumbering shadow moves in the darkness of the splintered gate..

The rain begins to pound down into the ground.

Feilim leaps forward - five to his right hand five to his left - blood sprays him nearly obscuring the blue spirals he painstakingly drew on himself that morning - his spiritual protective runes.

Doyle notices a human soldier nearby facing off with an orc, he steps up behind the orc and swings his hammer low at the Orcs legs knocking the Orc off balance as the soldier guts him sharply, another Orc comes up from behind Doyle and swings his blade nicking across his back, at the feel of the blade contact he jumps back slightly and turns around sharply swinging his hammer as a defense as he squares off with the Orc the Orc stabs at Doyle, he quicly twirls his hammer and deflects it as he turns turns the twirl into an upward swing knicking the Orcs chin up and the Orc to his back he steps over the Orc and lets his hammer drop down upon the Orcs head. He glances around noticing the battle has dropped in numbers greatly and is very spread out.

Feilim hears a scowling belly laugh and turns to the source. Before him stand a massive orc, little heads tied to a bandolier of teeth wrapped around it's leathery pockmarked torso, streaks of red obscuring its tusken visage.

Doyle hears the rush of footsteps behind him, he turns quicly to meet an orcs hammer in his gut as he is sent flying backwards, he rolls over his shoulder into a crouched position as he draws his other sword, as the Orc lumbers forth he lunges out of his crouch, running the Orc through.

Feilim feints the lethal hammerswing of the orc - its cumbersome bodyweight leaving it open to a criplling slash.

Doyle looks sharply as he hears the Orc leader yelling for a retreat, he quickly moves to his horse and saddles up and with one hand motioning the horse to a sprint, blade in the other hand, the horse darts in the heart of the retreating force as he swings his sword precisely, decapitating all nearby fleeing Orcs, one after the other, he slows his mount to a halt as the Orcs exit the reach of the gates as he watches with a stern look on his face still holding his blade high, he turns his horse around after a long moment and slowly trots back to the village.

Feilim, as do many others, stands dazed, overseeing the settling battlefield. "Too close this time.."

Doyle's horse comes to a halt as he enters the gate, he glances around slowly, then solemnly raises his bloodied sword high in the air, singling victory.

Feilim joins in the victory roar!

Doyle's horse jumps around slightly as the victory cries ring around him, he steadies the horse as the cries die out, he looks about all the tired soldiers as he speaks, "We have survived, we have won. Nothing can destroy the Humans, not plague, nor Orc, we shall live on, we shall beat whatever else it is to come." he says loudly and sternly.

Doyle looks about once more, "Now to Lomar, we shall rest, and hold a banquet not only for this victory, but for overcoming the plague as well, I feel.. it is well deserved after all we have been through." he turns his horse around and slowly trots south out of the gate and on the path to the nearby keep.

Feilim shakes hands with his comrades, following along with the group cheering their leader as they walk..

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