The air was thick with the scent of the foul beasts that now stood at Sanctuary’s walls. The Orcs were a mob, baying and snapping against an invisible yolk which strained to keep them from rushing the town; the pounding of their drums whipping them into a frenzy of bodies and steel. At their centre stood the Wyvern and its rider, a dread silhouette in the light of the new moon.
Thalon surveyed the assembled horde from his position on the gate tower. The Orcs were a fearsome sight, each of them a killing machine born to a life of destruction, they would attack soon and when they did they would offer no quarter to anyone in Sanctuary. Even though the men assembled below outnumbered the Orcs at least two to one Thalon knew that this would be a close fought battle, it was time to prepare his troops.
Walking from wall he made his way among the assembled defenders, he took time to speak to as many of them as he could; providing words of reassurance, inspiration and tactical insight. When he knew no more could be achieved he retired to the small traders shop near the east gate which he was using as a command post and summoned the leaders of the various units for a final briefing.
Using boxes and tins from around the shop he had created a miniature diorama of the gate and his men on the counter. As he looked down he remembered the wooden blocks and toy soldiers with which his father had taught him the lessons of battle that he would apply today. He wondered how Balen would feel about the choice he had made, to risk his survival for the good of Sanctuary. Thalon hoped he would understand… and hoped he would survive to see his son’s victory.
His father had always been a great lover of these kinds of war-games, in Thalon’s youth the pair had played them relentlessly, developing tactics and testing stratagem for reasons he was only now beginning to understand. Thalon smiled as he remembered how often he had lost to his father in these battles of skill. Yet after each defeat the old man had made a point of explaining to his son the detail of his failing and how he could improve upon it… Now those lessons would be brought to play, this night it would be Thalon who taught the Orcs a bloody lesson in the art of war.
As the minutes passed Dwarf, Elf and Human crowded into the shop and Thalon explained his plan; “Smash the Orcs with withering volleys of gun and bow fire as they advance, hold the walls for as long as possible and hope the Orcs charge the gate. When this happens the Elves will receive the charge and lure them along the east road in a series of fall-back manoeuvres while the Dwarves will close from the rear and trap them. The guard will then hold the Orcs on either side and, with a little divine favour, the night will be ours!” “What of the Wyvern?” Asked one of the Guard. “My companions and I, will along with a small force of men tackle the Wyvern directly” Thalon answered firmly. “Now if everyone understands your roles let us take position and prepare, pray to whatever Gods you believe in and by morning this town, this Sanctuary for so many, will stand as a testament to your bravery and skill”.
Slowly they filed out of the room and left Thalon alone, carefully he unsheathed his sword and placed it on the counter, running his hand along the inscription in the blade “It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves”. In that moment he hoped with every fibre of his body that his father’s words were true.
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