Before the break of dawn, Khao'khen was consumed with thoughts on how to disable the enemy army's enchanted cannons. He decided to take a stroll around the encampment, passing by his soldiers who were gathered in their designated war groups.
The warriors were occupied with tending to their injuries, yet their faces bore the excitement of another impending battle. He was growing accustomed to the mindset of the orcs. Death did not hold the same terror for them as it did for other races. To them, death was a welcome embrace, as long as it held meaning. Their greatest fear was a meaningless death.
As he made his way down the path, he couldn't determine whether it was a random occurrence or a calculated coincidence, but he noticed a row of oil jars lining the way. Lost in his thoughts, the path eventually brought him to a group of sleeping giants who, with their massive frames, carelessly knocked over some of the oil containers.
The ogres who were yet to make a name for themselves, snored with no care as they rested. Their giant figures, destroying many of the oil containers around them.
Khao'khen furrowed his brows upon their sight, but then he suddenly exclaimed, "That's it! The ogres!", his voice laced with excitement. He finally figured out a way to silence those devastating weapons.
As the sun's first rays pierced the horizon, signaling the start of another hectic day, the horde stood in formation, prepared for the imminent battle. Concealed by the shadows of the town's remaining northern walls, the horde's warriors waited for their adversaries to appear. Rakabis spent the entire night brainstorming ways to enhance the effectiveness of their magic cannons, but to no avail.
Khao'khen's heart raced as he envisioned the plan that he had in mind into action. He approached the ogres, their massive forms a comforting sight. He knew their strength and their lack of fear would be key to their success.
The ogres, also eager for battle, roared their approval and set off, their massive feet shaking the ground with each step. As the sun climbed higher, the enemy army yet again appeared on the horizon.
The enemy's magic cannons, guided by the mages, let out a deafening roar, sending magical projectiles towards what remains of the towns' northern walls. With their supply of magic crystals replenished, the mages on the Ereians camp began a destructive rampage against the walls of the town. King Gyassi had brought with him plenty of those crystals.
Unlike the previous battle, full-powered attacks from the magic cannons came one after another. The destructive attacks in full-power laid wasted upon what remains of the northern walls.
Ignoring he powerful opening salvo of their enemies, the ogres with their assigned task sallied out of the town. The previous arrangement of the horde was nowhere to be seen, instead of cowering behind the safety of the walls, they had charged out.
Under the order of Khao'khen, the horde were to cover for the advance of the ogres, who on their backs carried at least four giant jars of oil.
Khao'khen, knowing full well that the enemy camp was teeming up with plenty of fresh riders had sent out the full force of their cavalry. The only exception would be the War Elephants.
A little bit of outmaneuvering was done on the side of the horde. Each rider had taken along a skirmisher as they followed the advancing ogres. The expected number of fighters by the Ereians was twice the number than what they had estimated. Pinned down by the mixture of cavalry and ranged units, the Silver Helms who were dispatched to block the advance of the ogres failed miserably.
All the advancing ogres, unimpeded in their path continued forward. The ground shook with each footfall, and the air was filled with the sound of their mighty roars.
As the giants drew ever closer to the heart of the enemy, the Silver Helms rallied, desperate to protect their allies beyond them. But the trolls and cavalry of the horde were relentless, harrying the skilled riders, keeping them at bay.
The ground shook with the force of the giants' footsteps, and their roars mingled with the clash of metal and the cries of battle. The very air seemed to tremble with anticipation as Khao'khen's plan reached its climax.
The giants, with their massive arms, hurled the oil jars with incredible force, each one shattering upon impact. The oil spread rapidly, coating the enemy soldiers, their mounts, and the ground they stood on. In the heat of battle, it only took a single spark for the oil to ignite, creating a wall of fire that consumed all in its path.
The enemy's magical cannons fell silent as the inferno engulfed them, and the cries of the Silver Helms turned to screams of terror and agony. With the enemy's main weapon silenced, the tide of battle turned. The orcish horde, fueled by this advantage, fought with renewed fervor. The discipline and strategy of the horde, combined with the fearless might of the ogres, proved an unstoppable force. +
The oil-soaked battlefield erupted in a blaze, the fire consuming the Silver Helms and their mounts. The inferno, fueled by the oil, spread with relentless speed, engulfing the enemy soldiers and leaving them screaming in agony.
Khao'khen's strategy had worked; the enemy's main weapon had been silenced, and now the orcish horde pressed their advantage. The discipline and fearlessness of the horde, combined with the sheer power of the ogres, proved an invincible force.
The ground shook with their footsteps, and their roars mingled with the clash of steel and the cries of the fallen.
The battle raged on, the orcish horde's disciplined formations a stark contrast to the chaotic screams of the dying. Khao'khen, his heart pounding with adrenaline, watched as his plan unfolded with deadly precision. The oil-soaked fire, a brilliant tactic, had turned the tide of the battle, and now the horde pressed their advantage with relentless fury.
The Ereian army, despite their initial confidence, was faltering. Khao'khen signaled for the next phase of his strategy. The Warg Cavalry, their beasts snarling with bloodlust, surged forward, flanking the Silver Helms.
The trolls, their agility an asset, weaved in and out of the chaos, picking off stragglers and creating confusion. The enemy, disoriented and terrified, could not keep up with the horde's relentless assault.
As the sun reached its zenith, the battlefield became a furnace, the heat intensifying the fire's rage. The orcish horde, driven by their chieftain's unwavering determination, showed no signs of slowing. Khao'khen, his eyes shining with a fierce light, knew that this battle would be a turning point, a testament to the strength and cunning of his people. The enemy army slow to react to the sudden turn of events was on the verge of a full retreat.