Gralnok struggled to his feet, ears ringing, ribs broken, and blood spewing from his mouth.
"W-what the hell happened?" he croaked.
His answer came in the form of a shadow. Looking up, he saw General Grommash towering over him.
"Y-you . . ." Gralnok couldn't finish his words as his skull was pulverized by a single strike from Grommash's club.
The last thing he saw was a memory, fleeing from the clutches of slavery alongside Kraggul. Their pasts were marred by relentless pain and bitterness at the hands of their oppressors.
Being of a weaker race, they were condemned to servitude by the stronger ones. But Kraggul was the one who ignited the flame of hope, a beacon for a brighter future where Goblins and Hobgoblins would dominate the Spirit Realm.
When they escaped, they vowed to prove their strength to the world, to show that their race could rule if they set their minds to it.
This time, it would be the Goblins' turn to enslave, to make everyone feel the sting of weakness and the chains of servitude.
Kraggul . . . A bittersweet smile crept onto Gralnok's face. I'm sorry . .
. looks like I couldn't see the world that you're going to build for us.
"General Gralnok!"
The Hobgoblins looked horrified as their general was slain in a single blow.
General Grommash roared triumphantly, raising what was left of Gralnok's mutilated head.
Just then, a barrage of magic missiles and arrows struck Grommash and his troops. A surprised attack that they hadn't anticipated. They had strayed too far into enemy lines, just as Gralnok had intended.
It was all part of General Morzog's plan to lure Grommash and his troops into a meticulously prepared magic trap.
However, since the magic required a precise range and it was crucial that the Orcs remained unaware, executing their plan demanded patience and precision.
"Looks like we didn't make it in time, huh?" General Morzog said with a sigh. "But don't worry, Gralnok, we have brought you the head of General Grommash to accompany you in the afterlife."
"General Grommash!"
Loud, screeching voices thundered across the battlefield as magic and arrows rained down upon General Grommash and his troops.
These weren't just ordinary arrows and spells. The arrows were laced with potent poison, and the magic was designed to debuff the Orcs, weakening their defenses so the arrows could pierce their thick armor and skin.
The magic was a wide-range attack that demanded meticulous timing and strategy to execute. General Gralnok's sacrifice wasn't in vain; the arrows found their mark, riddling General Grommash's body with poison.
The sky was ablaze with crackling energy and a relentless barrage of projectiles, turning the once serene landscape into a chaotic storm of destruction.
The announcement resonated, and both sides momentarily stopped fighting.
General Helliana couldn't believe her ears. Her tears fell, grieving for General Grommash's death. He was one of her mentors, and she couldn't believe there would be a day that he would be defeated. in the hands of the Hobgoblins no less.
The Orcs felt the heavy blow of their general's passing. General Grommash's death on the first day was unexpected.
"Their general is dead! Kill them!"
"Kill them all!"
The Hobgoblins quickly boosted their morale despite having lost one of their generals too. General Morzog and the remaining 20,000 Hobgoblins marched forward to press their advantage, and penetrate the heart of the Orc's HQ to slay Warchief Kargoth.
"General Grommash is dead. Only 2,000 Orcs are left. Attack!"
"There's nothing in our way now to the Warchief! Kill them all!"
~BoOoOMM!~
A deafening roar echoed across the battlefield as the ground trembled violently. In an instant, massive spires of jagged, spiky rocks erupted from the earth, towering high into the air.
These lethal formations tore through the ranks of the approaching Hobgoblin army, impaling soldiers and shattering their morale.
The once enthusiastic advance turned into chaotic turmoil as Hobgoblins screamed in pain and fear, their bodies skewered by the merciless stone spikes. Their number instantly reduce to half by that single spell.
General Morzog was beside himself with anger. "Damn that Shaman . . ." he knew that General Frukin wasn't just an ordinary Shaman if she could summon this large scale magic.
Just as they had the upper hand, the Orcs had overturned it again!
The earth continued to shudder, each tremor sending more spires shooting upwards, adding to the devastation. Dust and debris filled the air, obscuring vision and adding to the confusion.
The Hobgoblins, who moments before were charging with confident aggression, now found themselves desperately trying to avoid the deadly protrusions.
The remaining Orc soldiers under General Frukin took advantage of the situation and attack the Hobgoblins.
General Frukin stood at the center of the chaos, her arms outstretched and eyes glowing with magical energy. She panted heavily, the strain of casting [Earth Spires] evident on her face, but the sight of the impaled Hobgoblins filled her with grim satisfaction.
The spell had required immense concentration, power, and time, but it had achieved its purpose spectacularly.
"Don't get ahead of yourselves, you pests!" she shouted, her voice carrying over the din of battle.
Her warning was clear — the Orcs were far from defeated, and their magic was a force to be reckoned with.
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The battle was far from over.