Orcs saw by night. Not as well as the knife-ears, but much better than humans. Sleep by day, raid by night was the conventional wisdom, and Nar Mat Kordh-Ishi didn't necessarily discard conventional orc wisdom. It merely used the best methods it could find, rather than rest on tradition mindlessly.

That's why companies of orcs were moving in disciplined formation through the night, the vanguard of Prince Adalwin's war to wrest his crown from his half-brother.

***

When Radush Eyedrinker, Warlord of Nar Mat Kordh-Ishi spoke of his suggestion on how to strike the first blow, the humans didn't want to listen. That was a typical situation for him -- they hired the Company, but expected unthinking brutes to soak up the casualties. And as Radush liked to say, you didn't win battles by dying-- you won them by killing. He wasn't about to let his men become arrow-stoppers for a bunch of shoddy-quality mercenaries and arrogant knights with their conscripted peasants.

He gave his advice in a taciturn manner, having little taste for the contempt of the current company, as they lounged in their silks, feasted, drank too much wine and and fondled wenches. They were hoping for easy plunder and would probably peel off when the fighting got rough -- many sellswords didn't stick around if a fight went sour. And so they argued as to why they should stay on the border of Vendia and raid towns, rather than make a meaningful strike into the heartland.

This was the chance for the company; glory, plunder and wealth. The enemy was encamped on Langshul, an ancient ring-fort ruin that occupied a strong hill position over the crossroads of the Kingdom's most important trade routes, a place that Adalwin could occupy and hold against his half-brother, Gerhnod. But Adalwin's captains, human followers, some nobles and not a few mercenaries, were wringing their hands over how to assault the position. Radush rolled the dice in the command tent, speaking up when others required his silence and expected the greenskinned brute to have nothing to add to a strategy discussion.

Adalwin was not the most virtuous of men, but ambition burned brightly in his black heart and he had a certain ability to see something if plainly put before him, and so he listened when his adviser, his castellan Cenric, whispered something to the man. The other captains, nobles with their retinues and mercenary companies, hired cheaply, had men, true, but not truly hardened soldiers. Not like the orcs, who came cheaply only because they were desperate for work. Nar Mat Kordh-Ishi were high quality troops -- all the more surprising for a bunch of orcs, who common wisdom held to be incapable of it. Cenric had watched them march, reviewed the company in ranks -- in ranks! -- as the green-skinned brutes stood there in heavy, spiked armor, wearing fur and skulls as gruesome decorations, seeming to harken to the savage reputation of their kind, but silent and brooding.

They were brutes, certainly, but they were of a different character.

"Eyedrinker," the would-be King intoned, "Cenric says your...men...can march, is that correct?"

"Yes, your Majesty," the Old Eye-Drinker grunted; he was a massive old tusker wearing plate armor heavier than any of the knights in the room would dare, with a saw-backed falchion on his belt; the engravings on his armor were typical orcish fare, but well done -- leering gargoyle-esque skulls, angles and heavy mail. His hair was worn loose, gray and thick from the sides of his head, though the top was bald. The warlord of Nar Mat Kordh-Ishi wore his plunder openly, in the form of jewels on a scabbard or the hilt of his sword, and on the belt that held them up, the clasps of his white bearskin cloak, "My tuskers can march forty miles," this claim brought a hiss of disbelief from other men in the tent that was quickly silenced with a glare from Adalwin, "and they can see in the night."

Then, he continued, after a moment's silence, "We can take Langshul from the bunnies," he gave a tusked grin, directed at the other captains. It was Nar Mat Kordh-Ishi's bit of bleak gallows humor to refer to humans as such -- they died like rabbits, in the eyes of the orcs.

"Then the honor is yours, Lord Eye-drinker." Adalwin was not in love with the orcs, his nose wrinkled and he seemed loathe to rest easily in such an alliance with the orcish mercenaries, but Cenric was sharp, and he said that these orcs weren't merely fierce and brutal, but they had a reputation for discipline as well. And they were desperate for work, cheaply had.

***

The company could march fast, and that was the work of the drillmasters of the Pikes, where every recruit of the Company learned to march in formation with their unit, to advance as one in a battle, and to care for their equipment properly so as to maintain it. Things that no tribal orc would never consider, like how to care for feet, how to pack a bag, how to cook scanty rations and divvy them. They drank a mixture of honeyed vinegar, sour wine and herbs that, so the herbalists claimed, kept them healthy. The carried their rations in sacks; grains, mushrooms, wheels of hard cheese in rinds and salted meat, usually pork or beef, but horse if they'd just fought some humans, on a march, often cooked into a stew. The orcs spent these marches grumbling and hating every step of the discipline until one day it became a point of pride to grumble less than the weakling in the other section and to show some pride and act like an Orc, damnit. They were supposed to be able to take it more than some bunny, and particularly some knife-ear.

The discipline paid off here; three days of marching by night, camping by day in hiding, a thousand and two hundred orcs moving quickly on foot, with a lucky number on wargback or in the wagons. The warg riders ranged the flanks, cutting down any observers they happened upon, chasing the riders, killing their horses and bringing the meat back to the company cooks; that at least raised morale – the taste of horse was a delicacy to orcs.

The scouts ranged ahead, finding the best way to Langshul, on foot or wargback, trying to keep the whole thing going. At times, the work involved killing human sentries or village watchmen, lest they report back. The march itself was typical ugly work – Nar Mat Kordh-Ishi considered all humans that didn't hide from them as they passed to be hostile, and that was usually true. Brutally pragmatic, they made sure the message was clear – don't leave your homes. Don't try to come out. And certainly don't carry warnings.

So morale was not so bad by the time they made the final leg to Langshul, near the point where everything but weapons and armor and what was needed to fight was left with the Company's wagons, and where ballistae and catapults were unlimbered, to provide support for the attack if it were necessary, if stealth didn't work.

Gerhnod's men supplemented the ruins of the ringfort with a series of palisades and ditches – a lot of men were working on building a keep of timber, but it was only half-finished, though the walls and towers were already done. There was a gate, but it was strongly held; a gatehouse all of its own controlled the access, and a small number of men could force an attacker to fight a few at a time; it had a stout gate, towers overhead for archers, walls nearby that would need to be stormed. Battering ram, siege towers or ladders, it was designed to allow a force of a few to fight against a much larger force by bottlenecking.

But they didn't count on the toughest champions of Nar Mat Kordh-Ishi as the assault force.

During the march, Gaelel made her way to their commander. Ottanosse trotted along almost happily as her owner attempted to get the attention of her commander. "Warlord, perhaps you should consider bringing me along to the war room next time. Humans and elves are much more...pliable when I am around. It might let us get more sway in exactly how we perform these jobs. It could even get us paid better. Exploiting sexual attraction is quite a powerful tool, indeed." She, unlike most of the orcs, was wearing only her chain armor under one of her more rugged dresses. She wore no boots and her hands sported her clawed gauntlets. This hadn't stopped her from taking down patrols and scouts as they marched. She even dragged one back alive as she extracted information that he may know the guard shift changes at the stronghold.

Following the march, she suited up fully and informed the warlord that she was going to do some recon following interrogation of the prisoner. She dragged the man off into the forest and brought Ottanosse along with her. At first, the man was quite resistant. Gaelel gave him an offer of two endings: he gets eaten by Ottanosse or he tells her what he knows. Picking between assured death or possible death led the scout to divulge the shift changes for the night to her. She spent some time walking circles around him, sizing him up. He never saw her strike coming. She buried the claws of one gauntlet deep into his back and the other into his throat. He could only gurgle a muffled squeak as he died on the spot. Ottanosse got a meal and the spring child took up a position to watch the stronghold. Sure enough, the shift change came properly. They had a few hours till the next, so she returned to the group and reported the changes to Warlord Eyedrinker. "If we send in our stealthiest, we may be able to open a gate for a charge by our warriors. Or, we can do a frontal assault during shift change and have myself and a group flank them and open the gates in the confusion. Either sound appropriate?"

Marching was good, he could march, he couldn't charge or sprint but even his 'blessed' legs could keep a stock march with everyone. He'd ride on wagons when a rotation was offered if even it meant he put his 'cane-ga-rue' feet on the back board and latched on with his weaker upper half to ride and bump along so another could ride in his spot. Usually it was his favored female who returned the kindness later in one way or another.

When the keep was met, Shar did his best attempt to scout using his gods blessing. Concentrating the power of the titans, he levitated up to the highest point he could hold onto such as a tree from sixty to a hundred and twenty feet then back down again before drawing what he saw into the mud for another who was better at transcribing what he saw. He presented the sketch of the area to the leader with the focused insight of his time dealing with churches.

"If the keep isn't finished being built, then the church is acting as the temporary fortress until it is finished. Stone walls, huge open main area to seat the entire village at once with benches to brace defenses at a moment's notice, tall thin windows used as arrow slits, solid double doors, tall lookout bell-tower, basement that can turn to mausoleum/catacombs but for now can hold almost a full years food and water. These are standard features of any bunny's church.

Even if we get over the walls, they can hole up in there for weeks. If we can get some shadows up over the wall it would be best to get them in the church from the tower and let them gut it from the inside out to take away their fall-back. as for the big fight, send some mucked-up diggers with tower shields to cut out the ground at the top of the hill at the foot of the fort, let's let the dirt ramp work for us to take out some of those logs in the wall and pour through. If the logs fall, we got bridges and ramps for us to march up."

The long advance to Langshul left Nargesh more riled up than tired. Her abnormal stamina combined with her hard training left her still fresh when they finally reached their goal. In Nargesh's mind, the march had been uneventful. Nothing save for the odd riders of enemy scouts, who were more often then not chased off by the companies warg outriders. The horse meat was at least a nice if rare treat, though, Nargesh preferred the meat of humans and elves. A trait earned from her Goliathian Ogre blood no doubt. Nargesh always chose to walk on foot, even when a wagon was available to ride in. It was both a matter of pride and discipline, but also pragmatic seeing as no mount could bear her while she took up more than her fair share of space on any wagon available. She also marched along with the rest of the warriors simply as a show of example to inspire the rest of her blades. She tended to push the recruits hard and to ride on a dingy wagon while they walked seemed boorish to say the least. She welcomed the chance to stretch her legs whenever she could, and besides, she could outrun near any orc, while keeping pace with horses or wargs when the need arose. They reached their destination soon enough, and the men were hungry for battle by this point. She knew she was. She hoped these bootlicking goatherders put up more of a fight then their last opponents. Militiamen and levied peasants of an outpost they had been sent to capture had proven no match for the companies finest. Nargesh smiled at the memory, she had been given the honor to lead that same attack against the border keep.

The company had chosen to encamp a safe distance from Langshul proper, and while the men rallied and took positions. Nargesh had ascended a short hill to get a better view of the enemies fortifications. It was not much to look at compared to more prosperous castles to the south lands, but its defenses looked well manned. This might prove a more worthy a foe it would seem. As much as bunnies could be that was. They had their little burrow to hid from the wolves, though...for now. She descended and made her way to a small clearing of sparse trees that was serving as something of a meeting site for a quick war meeting before they attacked. She made it in time as Gaelel returned to report what she had learned from her captive.

Nargesh scowled. “You managed to catch one of their scouts but never bothered to learn how many men they had, where their patrols routes were, or where their defenses were thinnest?”

Such a wasted opportunity left a bad taste in Narsgesh's mouth, but it was better than nothing. Nargesh had never been one much talented to strategy, smaller scale tactics perhaps -understanding the flow of battle was essential for any warrior- but she was no brilliant general. “Well, our best chance lies in our siege weapons, as far as I can see. Their range however will be a problem. If we throw them a feint on the far north end of the wall -perhaps attempting Shar's idea- and make them focus their attention there, we may buy enough time for our catapults to come into play and open up a few holes in the rabbit den for our warriors.”

Like the dull thud of hammer on steel, the sounds of the march had a calming effect on Armauk, His stomach rumbled for some decent vegetables, his armor, padded more for comfort than actual protection (something which he would never admit willingly to his peers), continued it's tradition of producing the ever glistening sheen of sweat on his skin, the pack he elected to help take from the Campers weighed his shoulders down even more, the fact that he decided to march with the group nearest the Campers forced him to march alongside the Pikes whom were stuck on baby sitting duty for the Campers, and the itch on his balls was absolute torture. Luckily none of it mattered for as long as he kept marching .

It helped that he was also thinking of his new project: shields bearing the insignia of each regiment in the company. He only came up with the idea a few nights ago and had only just started working on the first shield. He already determined that it would most likely be for the Blades for not only would one of the Blade captains be more willing to use a shield, but the Blades was where he was placed right after he "graduated" from the Pikes. While some would certainly deride him for his sentimentality, Armauk knew the shield would most belong there.

And as if on cue, the slow grumble of the new recruits began to rise again for if they could not complain about the march, their ire naturally turned to the one orc most likely not to beat them into a bloody pulp.

"How'd a git like him get to be Chosen anyway..."

After the Blades shield, Armauk would probably work on the Wargs next. A small, round shield most likely, to complement one of the captain's styles.

"... true orc ain't need nuffin' besides his own hide."

Then the Spikes, though the shield there would most likely be more of a showpiece which would disappoint Armauk greatly.

"... you stupid git, it's obviously because 'e ate so many bunnies 'e became onna 'em, and 'e's obviously 'idin' 'is ugly mug."

And he couldn't forget the Campers. Perhaps they'd have the honor of having the insignia of the entire company

"Nah nah nah I heard his mum was a full bunny, and his sire was a stinkin' halfie like him so he's more bunny than orc..."

The Pikes would definitely be last.

"...you halfwits heard it all wrong, the pansy was raised as a bunny see, by a one of them soft priest fellas, heard it from Eye-Drinker himself..."

A slight turn of his head, a loud bark from the sergeants', and several cracks of the whip later forced the recruits into quiet submission once again. While Armauk was sure the recruits kept gossiping like bunnies behind his back, at least they didn't dare to speak so openly again and for the most part the rest of the march was uneventful, leaving Armauk to his own thoughts once more. Sometimes he was called to the front of the column to discuss tactics and such, other times he was called to inspect the trap-making of various Campers or someone would file a request to fix a broken pan or pot or sword or what-have-you. Nothing too exciting.

Once the Company had stopped and chosen their encampment site and Armauk did his part in helping the Campers set up whatever they needed, the smith ascended a hill to get a better look at the enemy defense. While the fort certainly wasn't their toughest target the Company ever faced, their fortifications were still formidable and there were many new recruits among the Company's ranks who only just completed their most basic training in the Pikes. All in all, Armauk was fairly confident that the fort would be taken down with no problem, holding that same thought as he meandered down to the quick war meeting, arriving about the same time as Nargesh.

As the others strategized, Armauk couldn't help but notice with some amusement that he was still he shortest among the giants before he chimed in, his voice rumbling and distorted beneath his helm. "I for one like Galael's plan, the one with the gate openy bit. She could certainly come to the fort, maybe as a refugee. Have her be picked up by one of the human patrols, or she could just go straight to their front door, ask for refuge. Or she could just go full sneaky sneaky, purple paint and everything and sneak her way inside. Anyway it happens, I'm sure she can manage it."

"While that happens, just to ensure our little dryad is successful, we have most of our forces arrayed around the front of the fort causing all kinds of ruckus. They probably don't have a report of our full strength and it gives a chance for the new recruits to finally be of some use. Distraction and all. At the same time we have the rest of the tuskers circle around to the back of the fort, preferably with some of our bigger fellows," Armauk gave a small nod to Nargesh and Orgen, "cross the moat and either knock down or scale the walls. Take the fort, gates open, barrel down into the main base, fun for everyone."

Orgen had a great time marching up to Langshul. The food on offer was rather good, something his refined palate could appreciate. He still relished the ham and other meats that were standard rations. But the Orcish delicacy of horse meat and even rarer bunny meat was what made the insufferable march bearable. The small skirmishes were not even enough to whet his appetite and by the time they made their final camp he wasn't in a particularly happy state of mind even if the food on offer was great.

The bunny foot soldiers were brilliant but the merchants and the women were even better, he reasoned that it all boiled down to the quality and amount of fat. The merchants had more of it and thus were tasty. He had cooked for the half-ogres and half-giants of the company, the orcs weren't that choosy but still took a bit of the meat. Watching how riled Nargesh was, he knew that every one was a bit on edge for going without a proper bloodbath for so long and thus he had hoped to do his bit to keep everybody sane through food.

He was not as great as Hrok, who was sensational with the pot but he knew how to grill and prepare bunny meat like no other in the establishment.

This was also good moment to test out his new axe, get used to its weight and swing. Throughout the trip with some pointers from Armauk the ace smith and Nargesh the other impressive weaponsmith, he improved upon his original model. The grip was replaced from a hide handle to much more taut buffalo skin. The blade heads were sharpened a bit and he melted a few weapons he gathered from the bunnies and infused it at the base of the bladehead to give it more weight and support. He had also used this opportunity to request Armauk tinker with his helm and make it look a bit intimidating.

So now he had a half helmet that covered his face up to his nose, leaving his large fangs exposed, a hole in the helmet to let his ponytail through and three horns on the head of varying length between 8 to 14 inches of pointy, sharpened metal. With his blood red eyes shining through them, he cut an impressive figure. He had also used this march to exchange some herb recipes with Dakgu who was very knowledgeable of common cures and Gaelel though extremely reserved, had helped at a bit more potency to his poisons. All in all, he had as much fun making camp as he had hunting down scouts and hostiles but still the carnal fun of battle made him a tad bit grumpy.

As Old-man Radush camped for final time and the Chosen all gathered for a strategy meet, Orgen also joined. Hearing what others had been up to. Gaelel spoke first, she was the only one to have somehow managed to capture a bunny alive, they were so puny that they rarely survived one blow so Orgen's respect for her grew a notch. She let out a simple attack plan. Suggesting of an infiltration and assault route or a head on assault.

Shar picked up the mantle after her as he added his experience and take on the battle. Elaborating the use of shrine as a defense camp and his way of nullifying it. He mentioned using a decoy attack to draw attention and then infiltrate like Gaelel had suggested. So his was an elaboration of her plan with his twist.

Nargesh had also joined them by now and quickly added her point. She had been up on a hill with a detachment observing the fortifications. She had supported Shar's idea but had added the use of artillery in hers. It was impressive to hear them all out but Orgen was left a bit unsatisfied. He thought of Shar and Gaelel to be expert tacticians because one was a bit too zealous in everything he did and other was so reserved that he felt there were too many secrets which she can count on to see her through. He had half expect Nargesh to be so brutally simple and appreciated that if followed it will allow him a good taste of battle.

As he mulled over the suggestions and waited for Armauk to speak something before voicing his opinion, he considered the options. For as much as he knew Old man Radush, he liked to keep things simple but always plan three steps ahead. That was all what Nar Mat Kord-Ishi was about. It was an amalgamation of Orcish survivability mixed with Bunny and Knife-ear strategies.

As he heard Armauk finally throw his weight behind Gaelel's idea he let a small grin cover his maw before speaking shortly after him.

"Consider this Chief, We know that bunnies don't see well in the dark on the contrary our brethren do. Why not we use that to our advantage here, its not like we are coordinating with a bunny army this time, we can do what we want to. This also brings our heavy weapons well into play." he paused drawing a deep breath and let the great Eyedrinker consider his point.

" We dispatch half of Blades under Shar's command to assault the north wall and draw attention, as the bunnies scamper towards it to fight off the threat and they start getting up from their stupor. We move in the catapults in range and attack the main gate and the barricades, cutting a larger area for our main force consisting of Half of Blades under Nargesh and Pikes under Armauk to march on forth. Meanwhile, I command a platoon of Spikes, a ballista unit and lay siege to the west wall. As the bunnies make sense of everything, we use the confusion for Gaelel and her band to sneak in and lay waste to the church and the Prince Bunny. With their armies routed and running at the gates we let the Wargs storm in under Dakgu and lay waste to everything. After which if the Prince bunny is still alive you come in and snuff the life out of him."

Gnarl had been riding ahead on his Warg scouting for enemy patrols. He had come upon a small one, and let it pass to be run down by the others. Shortly after he came upon a small group of men at arms beside a stream. It appeared they were gathering water. Normally he would have went back to the company and informed them, but there were only three men. The first was a swordsman who wore plate armor and carried a mace and shield. He was standing watch on the other side of the river. The second was a yeoman who carried his bow slung over his shoulder as he filled buckets. The third must have been an apprentice of some sort, he wore chainmail and a sword. This younger warrior stood with his back against the tree nearest Gnarl.

Gnarl licked his lips as he slowly readied his bow with a heavy arrow. He leveled the bow on the Knight, then he elevated it slightly adjusting for the weight of the arrow. As he let it fly he gave a sharp whistle. The arrow did as intended and drove straight through the knight's plate mail into the flesh of his chest. The wound knocked him down but didn't kill him, and as the knight fell the terrified squire was drug down by Grakus's heavy jaws. The younger man kicked and screamed as he was ripped apart by the mighty warg. The yeoman attempted to bring the bow off his chest, but before he could nock an arrow Gnarl's was through his throat. The knight rose breaking what remained of the arrow and charged Gnarl. Dropping his bow Gnarl drug his greatsword out of the sheath on his back and parried the man's mace. Again and again the two cashed neither able to gain the edge. Suddenly Gnarl parried a final time with the greatsword and went for a finishing blow to cleave the main in twain by the head. As the knight attempted to raise his shield he found his arm suddenly crushed by Grakus's mighty jaws. His cry of agony was cut short by Gnarl's greatsword cutting cleanly through his helm and bisecting his head.

Ripping his sword free Gnarl recovered his arrows and began his journey back to the company with the three dead men slung over the back of his warg. Finally arriving Gnarl headed directly for their warchief. None to his surprise their warchief was surrounded by other chosen orcs. Gnarl and Grakus approached dropping the carcasses of the humans in front of the others before speaking.

"We have slain these bunnies, and they wear typical human armor and mundane weaponry. They appeared to be gathering water, so I would reckon to guess at least one of their patrols made it back and warned them of our coming. I would say that the best option for the least amount of losses is to starve them out, but I don't wish to wait for months on end for a taste of manflesh. Therefore I say we should have the bruisers go around the back and cause the largest ruckus they can start fires, bang drums, bash weapons, roar and stomp basically scare the bunnies. Next we send our friend Gaelel directly at them with some of the less skilled recruits chasing her. We either let the bunnies kill the recruits, or they chase her to the gate where she bangs on it and begs for refuge saying how she barely escaped us. Once inside she waits until nightfall and opens the gates where we then have a company of blades storm and hack anything they face to pieces. Followed shortly by the wargs who shall come in behind them finishing what was left of the resistance. I fear Shar is correct however my commander seeing as the humans can and will go underground like the bunnies they are. For that I say we have our campers nad others begin to dig the foundations around the church once we have secured the outpost. Finally once we have dug underneath them we drag the bodies of their fallen and set them ablaze burning them alive, causing the church to collapse, and finally smoking the remaining ones out to be killed for sport. However this is just my idea boss"

The smell of the bunnies is what bothered Hrok, he knew that being one of the youngest in the company he would constantly have to prove himself. His jobs and tasks were menial at best and he was almost certain not a single one of them knew him by name. Whelp was all he was to them, and although young he could handle a bow or blade with with the best of his kin. He never held the same arrogance his fellow full blooded orcs seemed to carry. The "halfies" were some of the most amazing warriors and assassins he had grown to know. He never cared much for marching, it was a tedious event that certainly served its purpose. However the march gave Hrok much time to think, to watch. Occasionally he was sent to scout ahead and usually returned with a few fresh bunny scalps, and always horse meat should any of the bunnies have been riding.

---

When they arrived at the fort he awaited his commander to determine if he was scaling the wall and opening the gate or if he was to join the party making the the final frontal assault. Either way he couldn't wait to rack up the body count and maybe find a few new trophys for his collection.

"Ith night," Dakgu observed in his strange voice -- the deformity made talk hard, "and the wallth are not high. The wargth can jump." Of course, because he had such a difficult time saying anything, he didn't add the obvious, that archers would have to cut down sentries on the approach quickly, but that was fairly simple stuff. The important part was getting a force in fast.

He was finished with his piece of advice; the walls were not designed to stop wargs, they were not expected. But the rest of them had to figure out the rest, Dakgu just pointed out the very obvious and let the planning take its pace from there.

Old Eyedrinker glanced over the illustrations he had of the fortifications and grunted, "Siege engines only if we have to. I want this fortress intact and ours. Any way that we can get forces in there fast without bunnies knowing it until the killing actually starts is good. Get the gate open and hold it so bring Tuskers in fast. What we can do is use the catapults to hurl fire into the walls and set fire to the buildings right before you Chosen take the walls and force the gate open, but then the loot isn't as good. These bunnies never seen wargs before, you saw what the King's other men were like when they saw them. They pissed themselves. So figure out how to take that gate house, and I'll make sure you get the tuskers you need once it's open."

It was a nice fortress they were building. It needed some bunny skulls on spikes and horsehides to make it more homey, though.

Shar moved himself to the side of Nargesh, her presence pleased him even if he hardly showed any traits she favored. His generosity for a seat was wasted on her as she preferred to run alongside the wagons so he would take the time to watch her run alongside. The others filed in and offered their ideas, each piece of information making a more cohesive image to build from.

"By the allseer. First we send our shadows at the first guard shift, that could include Gaelel if she feels up to it, they find a place to hide and wait. I think that getting them into the church is the ugliest choice, but that is just me. Next we sent the pikers in a march, full phalanx with spears to the front door. The shield wall will keep the arrows off and draw all attention to the front, the pikers with the shields above their head brace with spears to hold the weight and becomes a ramp for the wargs to run right up and over their walls with a jump.

Now we got wargs on the inside tearing them to bits along with the shadows to cut the ropes and drop the bridge for hundreds of Pikers to march through and wipe them all out. With the town of it taken, we can move the catapults in for the tower if we need. But, I think we need to offer them a chance to surrender or offer us even more. We are mercenaries now, not small savage tribes anymore. I am even willing to approach at the guard change to draw eyes to me so the shadows can do their work to get over the walls."

Later...

Once the argument was settled over what to do and how to get the fortress, the preparations began; Dakgu wasn't in love with the idea of taking a fortification they could bypass, but the reasoning made sense – this was a hell of a position for the Company to operate from and it was lightly held and not yet complete, which made it a weak position for the enemy that they could overwhelm quickly.

Dakgu knew something of humans as well – there would be workers building the castle here, and they would be paid. That meant that there were valuables in the place to be had, plunder. More than that, it was a forward base to operate from.

But those considerations were for later. Right now, it was a matter of making the approach on the fort and taking the gatehouse so that the main force could pass through.

Dakgu had his bow and had a good position, and he could see, from a distance, the humans as they walked their walls. He used a hand signal to indicate, to Gnarl and Hrok, where to put their shots and then, embraced by the darkness and silence, he nocked an arrow and drew back on the massive orcish warbow -- the gate commander was right there, in full plate armor, which demanded a bodkin in order to penetrate. The bounty hunter knew that once they let fly, the rest of the Chosen would make their favored attacks, be it the direct or indirect approach. With wargs nearby, Dakgu and the other two archers would be able to quickly shift position to support them, or, eventually, make a run on the walls themselves if it were necessary.

A momentary tracking of the gate commander and a breath taken in and held, and then release of the arrow, streaking for the bunny. It plunged into the gorget, leaving the human crumpled, gurgling for air.

Shar stood before his centurions, one hundred pikes with iron tower shields an inch thick in twenty rows of five columns. He drew out the rust red iron blade and held it over his head as he spoke out before his men with Negative energy in the form of crackling arcs of purple lightning erupting from the blade.

"You know me as the Pious One, I Worship the allseeing, you do not need to believe in what I believe in to believe, so hear me and know me to your heart!
GRUUMSH! I will not kneel in prayer for my salvation. Fight, fight for the glory of your gods. Gruumsh does not help those who kneel before him, Gruumsh does not save those who pray for mercy, for those are not true prayers. Will you beg in presence of your lord? Your impiety begs only for death. True prayer is forged in battle, Dazzle your Lord with your prayer and you shall know him, you shall know GRUUMSH!. After the tearing, the crushing, the breaking of mens bones, when the fruits of our prayers lie at our feet, Gruumsh will descend from his throne on high to bring judgement upon these wretched pittiful servants."

There was a power in his voice, something wholly unholy about his drive as he turns and marches on to the fort with an army at his heels. They had their orders to take the fort, all eyes on them, all the bees after the turtle. But he resided outside the protection, only a shirt of chain to protect his heart and his faith to keep him alive.

Skulking at the edge of the trees, pacing in front of the other warg riders, Gaelel impatiently waited for the initiating attack. She planned her route, where to go, what to do. A glance behind her at the other warg riders let her know exactly how they felt. They wanted blood, so she would oblige. Using hand motions, she directed the officers to lead their groups to aid in the assault by flanking. Off in the distance, she heard Shar making a speech about his god. The spring child almost spat in contempt whenever he mentioned the name of that evil deity of wholesale slaughter.

Then, she saw her signal. A guard on the ramparts fell. She motioned to the warg riders to move in with the main body for flanking. She herself left and carefully picked her way along the skirts of the human sight lines. She used brush and speed to maneuver towards the back of the fortification. As she rounded to the back, she acquired her target. He was a low ranking officer, but he would do nicely to trick the commander.

Nargesh watched as both Shar and the rogue Dakgu begin the assault in earnest. Nargesh did not much care for archers and the rest of the cowardly ilk. To her eyes, the bow was no true weapon, a glorified hunting tool; nothing more. She might appreciate his skill all the same as he managed to strike one of the figures on the wall. Nargesh was surprised the palisades even had walkways. It seemed the fort was further along in its construction than she had originally thought. It made little difference in the end to her. There was no sign of Gaelel, so Nargesh could only assume she had slinked off to infiltrate the enemies position while they were distracted by the attack. Greatsword resting on one shoulder and surrounded by the companies veteran blades, Nargesh smiled. Adorned in the heavy plate of which she was well known, the skulls tied to her built languorously rattled from a slight breeze from the east. The wind stroked the fur pads on her shoulder guards, details not lost on Nargesh even over the roaring charge of her allies. While she was glad that the attack had begun, she frowned at the still closed gate. Nargesh was hardly going to wait for the doors to be knocked open, peppered by archers all the while, only to be stuck in a bottleneck and take unnecessary casualties that would only prolong the battle. Thankfully, Nargesh had a way to get around such a predictable obstacle. On the small hill, she waited upon she cast he gaze in a slow turn across the surrounding terrain. The blades with her shifted impatiently in their armor, wanting to join the assault, but too disciplined to voice a complaint.

Gratefully it did not take long to spot what she needed. Further behind the line of siege engines being prepped for the attack, laid a massive boulder, one much to large for the small baskets that would soon be hurling missiles over the wall of the enemy castle. While unusable for the catapults, it would serve Nargesh's desire perfectly. Walking toward the massive stone briskly, Nargesh stabbed her sword within the earth next to it. Then breathing in sharply bent and gripped either side of the rock. With a grunt, she flexed her impressive muscle mass and stood up slowly, bringing the boulder off the ground with astonishing ease. Hefting the stone -a piece of rock easily the size of an Cadoorian siege onager in it's own right, but much heavier- nearly over her head, Nargesh strode up the hill once more, then breathing out slowly, she turned once, twice, thrice, and several more times as she built up speed. After she had felt she had reached the proper speed, she let fly. The stone went hurling end over end toward the palisades, before striking the top edge with such force as to bend the large tree trunks used in it's construction and send snapped pieces of wood flying. A few men even went flying before they even knew what was going on, while the boulder itself then struck a building several yards behind the wall.

At this point, several of the orcs around Nargesh stared on in surprised shock, before hooting and cheering. The makeshift missile had bent a segment of the wall inward, though it had not collapsed outright, one could conceivably run up the length of the bent wooden trunks and into the castle yard proper. Old Eyedrinker had wanted to leave the castle intact as possible, fine and green for him. One relatively small part of the wall bent the wrong way should not serve to spark his ire. Retrieving her greatsword she looked to the orcs around her, “Well? What are you undur kurv's waiting for! Mirdautas vra!”

With that, she charged the wall directly, even as the wild howls of wargs started fill the night sky. The blades followed close behind, but Nargesh easily outpaced them and all but the warg riders themselves. Having recovered from the shock of the boulders flight through a piece of their defenses, archers in guard towers shouted warnings and had begun to pull arrows from quivers. The distinct whistle of arrows taking flight through the air was like a familiar tone to Nargesh's ears. Most of the projectiles thumped around her feet, narrowly missing her and the wargs around her. One arrow struck the through the front leg of one beast and it toppled in a savage forward roll with it's rider. The downside of wargs was their increased size made them easier targets, but the depth of darkness of night, coupled with the surprise and shock of the attack gave the defenders little time to exploit this to their advantage. One arrow struck her shoulder, snapping on contact with the steel plate under her fur coating. The leather lining prevented any true damage, and the slight sting was easily ignored, as were the few other lucky strikes that managed to find her during her charge. The archers had the time only for two full volleys before the first wargs reached them, three by the time Nargesh had arrived at the wall. Not missing a beat or slowing in the least, she leaped at the last moment upon reaching the damaged section of the wall. She cleared ten feet, just overtaking the almost prone palisades she bounded over, and landed with an echoing thud on the hard-packed ground of the castle. The majority of the men-at-arms had ran to the front gate, believing -in what would most circumstances be true- that the gate would need their aid more than anything else.

So the as Nargesh took in her surroundings with the quick speed of a veteran warrior. Only a trio of archers rushing to the ladders and the walls themselves were present to meet Nargesh's sword. Seeing black skinned giantess leaping out of the darkness and right into his path, the leading man barely had time to screech to a stop; bow still in hand and an arrow stringed. A bow sadly was no defense against Nargesh's sword, however, and her first swing of the nights battle -and by extension kill- saw her sweep her sword up in a forward arch. Cutting the man from balls to neck, easily splitting his leather jerkin and chest underneath. Before he had even fallen, and his comrades had taken full stock of the situation, Nargesh rocked forward and brought her sword around for a swing at the second archers neck, between his head and right shoulder. The blow nearly severed the man's hand and shoulder in one blow. The third archer had by now dropped his bow and was quickly back peddling, attempted to draw free a short sword. He was lucky to have a sword at all considering his designation as a bowmen, but it would do him little good. Pulling her sword free from the now corpse of the second archer, Nargesh continued her advance and stabbed forward just before the man could clear his sword. He was impaled through the lower part of his body, where chest and stomach met; in other words his thorax. The jab cut through several arteries and thus caused a spray of blood to follow her quick retrieval of her sword as she tore it free.

Watching Nargesh in action was always a pleasure. As Orgen took up his position in the rear after Captain's orders. He saw the giantess heave a heavy rock up and throw it at the palisades like a pebble. Crushing its defenses enough to make for the charge of the Blades. She then took ran at the walls like a warg or even faster still. He was always amazed by her athleticism, but he was no slouch either. As the company broke into a frenzied charge Orgen to got his legs warmed up.

Decked in a fearsome full armor, he rumbled towards the break in wall. By the time he had reached, the walls were already fallen out of bunnies's hands. Nargesh and first company were engaged in full macabre splendor as a slaughter was unleashed. With a timed leap he was over the wall. Landing on other side with a thud, the earth caving in slightly by all the sudden mass. He unhooked his greataxe and took his first swing, cleaving two bunnies clean from the midriff, they were too shocked to even yelp like most of their kind did when facing orcs.

He marched towards the gates, clearing the path. Not caring for the archers that may target him, instead he drew the ground forces towards him as his brethren assaulted from the other side. Another mighty heave cleaved three more and engraved the axe deep into the side of the gate. The sudden blow contributing to the collapse of the wooden hindrance which was under vicious onslaught.

Ever the prepared warrior Orgen left his axe and took out his clubs, going into a dual wielding frenzy as his brethren poured through the main gate.

Gnarl did not lead a division, his sole job was to kill as many of the enemy as possible. As his signal was given he to took a shot at one of the guards on the tower felling the man. Next he leaped astride his mighty warg and rode at the gate. As he rode the side of the wall killing the archers he saw, Nargesh opened a portion with a large stone. Quickly reigning in his warg and turning Gnarl followed her inside. Upon reaching the broken section his warg leaped it and fell upon the first man it saw tearing into him, while Gnarl's bow finished two more. Dismounting Gnarl drew the greatsword from its sheath on his warg's saddle and set to work.

Two men rushed him and he ducked the first's swing and rolled the man over his shoulder into his warg's waiting jaws. Next a spearman tried to impale him, he simply grabbed the shaft just below the head and pulled the spear to the side. The man was pulled forward, and Gnarl gripped his throat and slammed him into the ground. Following that Gnarl ran toward the keep with his white warg in tow. A man rushed his side only to be dropped by his warg, and the next man that attempted was met with an enormous gash across his chest. Reaching the courtyard of the unfinished keep and very much leading the charge Gnarl was met by a captain. Immediately the he rushed the mn, who was obviously of superior skill to the others around him. The man brought his longsword in an arc cutting Gnarl's chest slightly, but had miscalculated and as his sword hit the plate metal Gnarl's bent his shield in around itself breaking the man's arm. As the man fell back in pain Gnarl delivered a grievous blow to his neck with his boots before letting out an inhuman roar at the remaining humans causing them to backpedal quickly.

The chaos at the gate drew the attention of the sentries in the back rather readily. This gave Gaelel ample time to bypass the fortifications and position herself behind a sentry. One quiet strike took care of him, so she hid the body after ordering her warg to skulk around and outside the walls. She cast the spell and made a quick change to her voice as well to make it more convincing. Then, she rushed into the building to find the commander. Seeming frantic and looking the part, the people inside pointed her to where the commander was last seen.

Once outside the door, she took a deep breath before busting through the door, careful to make sure it closed behind her. The commander was getting his sword belt on, but he had neglected his armor, likely thinking he could function as a tactician this time. Gaelel gave her plan a shot, hoping he was predictable enough. "Orcs and giants have breached the walls!"

Sure enough, he rushed over to get at the door. His lack of armor led to quite the easy kill. Her claws found their way under his ribs as her free hand clasped over his mouth to prevent a scream. The man got to see her dispel the disguise as he bled out. "So arrogant and trusting. You expected a mercenary company like ours to only be brutes? That mistake cost you everything." She quickly took on his form with her final casting of the spell for the day and ripped off his crest as proof of the deed. She left the building and carefully wove in and out of the melee, dodging blows from the orcish troops until she reached the gatehouse. Inside, she opened the gates and then sabotaged the mechanism. Ditching her disguise, she then stepped out and let out a shrill whistle for Ottanosse. Her warg companion was swift to get through the open gate, even beating the pikes. Gaelel hopped on her back and made her way quickly to their commander, signalling to the commander's crest to show her success.

Dakgu picked up his arrows and moved in closer, falling in behind the Wargs while the Pikes and Blades started the assault in through the gate, while the Spikes supported the attack under the eyes of the masters -- a well-oiled green machine, the discipline showing through. The Bunnies didn't expect the bristling wall of pikes, the steady methodical ways of the blades, who used their heavier armor to their advantage as they ground the Bunnies that tried to flank. They didn't expect the rapid saturation fire of the Spikes who put the arrows where the bunnies tried to form up their own. And the wargs worked the flanks, a snarling, feral wall of fur. Their riders existed as symbiotic protection for the Wargs who often supervised their own end of the battle at the direction of their pack alphas, with the orcs merely along for the ride -- the so-called "Demon Wolves" understood more than humans and elves would ever suspect.

The Warlord wanted this place taken as a base for operations, something Dakgu understood well -- they were taking it and occupying it before any of the other humans, their allies, managed to get a foothold and claim it for their own. The orcs were expected to lay a longer and more protracted siege so some Bunny mercenary captain or lord would be able to use up the orcs as their fodder and claim the place for their own. A triumph of human superiority.

Except it wasn't working like that. As the Pikes forced a way in, the Blades and the Wargs started their work. Different from the typical cavalry, the Wargs were naturally inclined to flank and envelop the enemy, rather than charge in and out. They worried at the hamstrings, attacked from behind in great leaps. There were horses here, but they were safely penned away (and would make for a wondrous victory feast) and the bunnies fought on foot, because their mounts didn't have enough open space to operate. Not true of the Wargs, who found the houses within the walls, the barracks, easy to leap upon and spring from in their vicious attacks. Demon wolves indeed, to a human's eyes, but lovely creatures. In any case, with the Blades moving in to butcher the last of the combatants, Dakgu yelled, "Careful with the Wargs, damnit!"

There were calls from the drillmasters of the companies, the warriors in charge of keeping order in the ranks, at times with the lash because orcs in a bloodlust could get carried away and charge all of a sudden, to avoid fires, to stay in the ranks. A battle line of Nar Mat Kordh-Ishi was a testament to brutality and efficiency, but not much in the way of grace of beauty. Tacticians could admire the pragmatism, but the raw ugly was right there.

But that's how the orcs liked it. The bunnies were not prepared for the spectacle -- the best of them, the armored knights, were forming a knot of defense while others tried to fight alongside, but wound up screaming in terror or losing themselves into battle madness, throwing themselves at the enemy in a rage or trying to find desperate escape. They were facing the sight of blood-soaked orcs in the night, snarling their commands to each other in their awful language, tusked things in inhumanly heavy armor that they bore easily enough to fight well in, cutting them down with scant mercy. There was, after all, always a blood feud to be had here, and these orcs were outcasts from everything, fire in their bellies and hate in their eyes.

When the fighting was finally ended, it took more than a few flicks of the lash to settle the Tuskers down, to keep them from just cutting the prisoners open, "Ransoms, y' stupids! Dese bunnies are worth more meals than is on dere bones!" That was shouted in the language of the bunnies, which most of the Company understood well enough, for the benefit of the bunnies. A prisoner pissing himself, after all, was a prisoner kept in line.

"Good," old Radush said, on the back of a great beast of a warg, the alpha, "Round up the bunny prisoners, put them under reliable guard -- blades -- and get these defenses repaired. And hell's fire, let's get some proper orcish decoration up on these walls."

After all, he had to deal with the other mercenaries under the same employer and various petty lords. Radush wanted to make sure they knew who owned Langshul when they finally caught up with the company's rapid advance.

Shar stood, he stood before the archers with shield and sword he let himself martyr their focus. Eyes on him, eyes on the hundred behind him. That is until hell broke loose.

Orcish archers using the superior strength to reign longbows with greater ease and thus greater rate of fire upon the humans. If there were a thousand or so in the fortress, only a tenth would be guardsmen with another tenth trained for reserve service. That might just mean how to hold a spear right and not put the armor on backwards. After archers came the wargs, it should be said at the same time as the arrows travel faster, so it might be best to call it rain of arrows reached the fortress before the wave of wolven. All the same, it was a constant onslaught of tactics that lead to a boulder leading the run of footsoliders and giant-kin to taking to the ramparts.

Lastly came the fellow specialists who brought down the gates, now it was his time.
"One-to-one, One-by-one! Kill the bunnies, not the buildings. One hit kills mean better loot. March, March Ma-UGk!"

A humans longbow shaft found its way into Shar's face, shattering jaw and rending cheekflesh. Apparently this was a sign from grumish, the time for talking was over. The sparkling neative energy closed the wound in his face with black flesh as hr left the arow where it was to be healed later