The Kaldor wastes (IC players wanted)

70 years ago the pillars of wyrd which the elves used to control the winds of magic were destroyed in a titanic battle with the forces of evil, the resulting explosion was cataclysmic. Most of the elven homeland of Viernis was destroyed leaving only their capital of silva afloat. The rest of Viernis is now islands with ruins of previously great elven cities on them, the land is blasted and wrecked with literally no life left. Across the world of Kaldor fire rained from the skies turning people into ash. The dwarves retreated to their fortresses high in the mountains, the humans empire was practically shattered as factions splintered off to get away from the raining death. With this chaos happening the orcs attacked, their hordes driving teh good races back and back. From the shattered pillars of wyrd a portal emerged, hordes of daemons surged forward led by the daemon lord Shivvish. The world was turned into a wasteland, the only part that remained untouched were the jungles of Ossetia to teh south. Forests burned and people were slaughtered for decades as the forces of darkness ran rampant throughout the known world, this is the chaos you are thrust into.


Grungnir trod silently through the forest. He stopped and inspected the ground, his quarry was up ahead. He took out his crossbow and knocked a bolt in place. In front of him he could see the large troll that had killed several human merchants traveeling across the Hallan marshes. The stench was unbearable, a mixture of blood and swamp water. The stupid animal stopped and sniffed the air. It turned.
"Bollocks" Grungnir cursed "nice pretty troll" He fired his crossbow at its stomach, the bolt penertrating deep into the troll's thick hide. It fell over with a groan.
"and stay down!" the dwarf shouted, swinging his axe at it. The troll got up and his axe thudded into the snowy ground.

http://www.roleplaygateway.com/the-kaldor-wastes-ooc-and-sign-ups-rpers-needed-t25013.html

Thurmein stood on the walls of the city. Smoke was rising in the far distance, he sighed, "As always, this war scars the land, the people...and our minds," he sighed and then turned and walked down the walls.

He had been separated from his family for almost three decades now...but the cost had been worth it, seeing the faces of the people who had come to Curia in search for safety, food, shelter and comfort from the evil monsters that were roaming free through their lands.
Thurmein had defended the city for years, he had fought back countless waves of orcs, outsmarted dark elven commanders, and some rumors said that he had faced daemons head on, but those were of course false, and it was all to see that the innocent people were given another day to see their loved ones.

"Captain...make sure that these soldiers doesn't stay up the entire night, an hour before the sun sets, make sure that they get some sleep," Thurmein said.
"Yes Bull Boy," the captain said, using Thurmein's nickname.

Thurmein would walk to the newly arrived and help them into the town, offer them to stay in his house for a few days, and then make sure that they were given jobs so they could earn food, some shelter and perhaps even a few coins for later food.

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The woman screamed for a brief moment, then Grup's axe buried itself into her skull, "Waaaaaagh!" he cried loudly, raising both his axe and sword into the skies, letting the blood drip down on his face. He licked the blood off the edge of the blades.
He and some other raiders were burning down some farming fields and towns, and were having heck of a good time. Killing the people, eating their flesh, burning the buildings, and sometimes even throwing the men and women into the burning buildings, laughing as they would hear their screams and watching as the fires would lick their bodies, slowly burning away their flesh.

"For Gorgor! Blood and thunder!" Grup yelled again, and then sliced another human in half, from the waist, laughing as he watched the organs and blood fly through the air, and kicked the torso of the half-sliced female human, "You like that, eh? Like that?"

Grup looked up. The raid had been successful, the population was gone and they had the food, and the iron that they had come for, they would head back and get ready for another attack where their chieftain would tell them to.

Laying silently in waiting he had been still for the last three days, unable to move from his hiding spot. In front stood orcs, far too many for him to take on all at once, behind him more orcs that have already left their camp. His task was to set the stored food the Orcs held ablaze in their own camp fires, but to do that he needed to make sure he could best each Orc before either one could blow their horn. One mistake and in minutes Orcs from all over the woods would converge on the camp, overrunning him and besting him in combat.

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Finally the moment came, as only five Orcs remained to guard the camp. Careful not to make a sound he crawled from his hiding spot than quickly he jumped to his feet and ran towards an Orc that had his back turned. Forcing a dagger into the Orc’s back he dashed behind a tree as the beast let out a cry just before falling to the ground. The other four turned to their fallen comrade, unsure of what happened. Sneaking around to the other side of the camp he again stuck another Orc with a dagger, than pulled out his longsword. “For the glory of Ballardir, and the Third Empire!” He shouted as he swung his blade at another Orc, catching him off guard as they found themselves still wondering what had just happened.

Standing over the fallen Orc the other two turned to face him, as anger flooded their eyes at the sight of their fallen friends. Without warning the two charged him, axes flailing through the air. It wasn’t hard to avoid the crude fighting style of the Orcs and as he sidestepped one he let his blade finish the job as the Orc’s side slide across the blade. Blood spurted out from his side and with a loud yelp he fell to the ground, holding his side in agony as he began to painful process of bleeding out. Seeing this the remaining Orc raised his horn, but was stopped as a dagger thrown from the man hit his wrist. Forced to drop the horn he charge the man wildly, only to see the blur of a blade before falling to the ground as well.

Cautiously moving forward, making sure to check his flanks me stopped in front of large crates full of food and drink. Using his sword as a box opener he popped the top of one of the box off and than pulled a pack from his back. Filling the pack to the brim he slung it over his back once more, than walked to the fire in the center of the camp. Pulling out a log that had not fully begun to burn yet, he carried it towards the creates, shoving the burning end into the open create and watching as it ignited. Quickly the other boxes followed and soon the pile of store food was burning as he ran from the camp, back to his hiding spot.

Struggling to take his axe out of the ground, Grungnir saw the troll come closer and closer. Taking out his shield he hit the troll round the head as hard as he could.The troll staggered back, blood pouring from its face but it came back charging at the hapless dwarf. Grungir managed to get his axe free and struck of the trolls head, black blood staining the snow.
"ah the life of a dwarf exile, gotta love it" he took a swig out of the tankard of ale he had in his back back. Sitting down on a nearby log he surveyed the landscape.
He was on one of the southernmost mountains of the white tops, and below he could see the devestation wrought on the world. forests were burnt, hills levelled and the ground on the plains below was blackened by years of endless strife. Kaldor was in pain and there was nothing he could do about it. Standing up he took out his pipe and began to smoke. Putting his axe to his side he made the lonng journey down the mountain, time to go and help the world.

Everywhere he looked, Orrin saw nothing but ruins, burnt forests, smoking villages "Another village raided" He said seeing a new smoke rise, He finished the small lizard he caught and doused the smokeless flame, he didn't want orcs raining arrows on him like they first did when he arrived. Dried twigs snapped underneath his feet as he made his way to the only beuty he saw, The mountains. Orrin sighed "i go off to see the world for this" He muttered "The steppes had more beauty then this" he jerked his head back as an arrow pierce the tree behind him, once again the teachings his master taught him saved his life, "Hello?" he called, he hadn't heard the arrow and was now worried that there was a longbow in play. the bloodcurdling roar of an orc greeted him as he smashed through the trees battle axe swinging low. Orrin jumped and for reasons unknown dropkicked the orc. it worked and Orrin flipped drawing his Scimitar and Longknife as the orc staggered back from the surprise attack. Orrin took no chances, His scimitar flickered in as he lunged and lightly cut the orc's arm. the axe swung in but he was already too close in to use effectively, Orrin was already at his throat with the knife and slowly the Orc keeled back his life spurting like a fountain. Orrin distastefully wiped the blood off and sheathed them "One strike was all i could give you" Orrin Concluded

Hey Rogal is it acceptable for me to have a Daemon Mage who went he died and went to hell swore if he ever got the chance would help the races of Kaldor fight back the horrors of the Wastelands as a way to repent for his past sins? He wouldn’t appear as a Daemon most of the time, but rather in a human form as to be less frightening to others, but I will for sure have a Daemon form for him.

Will edit this out with my next post, didn't mean to post it here. Sry!

The landscape around him was desecrated, dead trees, burnt out villages and broken weapons. He cought sight of a man brutally killing an orc, this man did not look like any other he had seen, he was tanned and had foreign looking weapons.
"you there!"
Grungnir shouted gripping his axe. he did not know whether this man was friendly or not and he did not want to have to find out the hard way.
"who are you and where do you hail from?"
He knocked a bolt into his crossbow and held it ready for use.

Orrin heard a the gruff voice asking who he was and heard the click of a crossbow being loaded. Slowly he turned and caught sight of a muscular and heavily armed midget No that sounds wrong Orrin thought, his mind flashed back to his days in the steppes until he finally remembered a story one traveller told A dwarf? Either way Orrin tensed ready to dodge as he answered "My name is Orrin Wilder, i've come from the desert where i was a ranger." He checked his surrondings for anymore trouble but all he saw was burnt trees and ruined land. he detected the smell of blood but he figured that was from the Orc he killed a moment ago. "I'm just on a journey to see the world" Orrin called "Now let me ask you this, are you a dwarf?"

Deep in the Wastelands an Orc camp that should have been bustling with activity was eerily silent, the orcs who once called this place home nowhere to be seen or heard. Although a fresh rain had fallen only hours ago the ground was bone dry inside the camp… the complete opposite of it just outside its border. Hovering just inches from the ground a thick dark fog lingered, on a human it would rise up to around knee level.

Standing in the middle of the camp a lone figure dressing in black clothing wrapped around with belts stood there, a knife in his hand pressed against the only surviving Orc. “Now tell me were are the others?” His eye glowed red as his voice hiss, echoing with pain in the silent air.


“I swear there are no others! We were all here when you…” Falling to the ground, a large knife slash in his neck the figure had killed him before he would allow him to finish.

Staring at the hole the Orc’s body made when it fell through the fog he watched as it slowly filled back up, cover him so the process of rapid decay could not been seen. Looking around the camp the tents had begun to rot, the fog slowly eating away at them, but yet faster that what nature itself could do. Slowly moving through the fog he seemed unaffected by its powers, more rejuvenated by it than anything. Leaving the camp he still carried the blood covered dagger in his hand, keeping it just in case he ran into more Orcs. Walking off towards the south he figured his best bet would be to head towards the surviving human kingdom of Ballardir.

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Meanwhile
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Reaching a cave deep within the woods Orion walked in cautiously, his sword unsheathed. Some would call him paranoid, but he called it survival and in these times one could not afford to make even one mistake as it might very well be their last. The cave was dim, only lit by the light that could still make its way in from the entrance.

Finally after reaching the end of the cave the light had all but faded to an almost impossible to see darkness. The only thing even possible to see were the strange letters written in silver on the back wall of the cave, to a unknowing glazer they would seem more ritualistic than anything. “For two lovers to meet.” He said in a hush voice. Suddenly the back wall vanished in a puff of dust, revealing a long path that went on for a couple hundred meters. “For two lovers to keep.” He said, again is a hushed voice. The wall suddenly appeared this time in another puff of smoke. When the wall fully covered the entrance candles that lined the walls every ten feet or so lit up as if by magic, lighting his way. Ahead of him the candles lit up as he approached, behind they went out as he passed. Until he reached a large circler room were a roaring bonfire waited.

Taking a seat on a log near the fire he slid his pack from his back, letting it plop against the ground. The warmth of the fire was a welcomed feeling to him, he had been away from a good fire for far too long and it almost seemed that he had forgotten what warmth felt like. As his eyes stayed fixed on the flames him hands worked, untying each piece of armour from his body and placing it behind the log just as he had done with the pack.

"aye, its good to see another hero in the world. The names Grungnir Torren, though I've been disowned by my clan." Grungnir took a swig from his tankerd of ale and passed it to Orrin.
"Were you headed then?" he asked "I'm off to teh elven city of Silva after stoppin off at Ballardir, figured the pansies could use a hand"
He pulled out his pipe and lit it, taking a long drag, he sat down on a rock and began studying a map.
"Your welcome to come with me if ya want? Your a traveller so I bet you'd love to see the elves, most humans would, don't understand it personally. They unnerve me, bit too tall for my liking"

"Well met Grungnir" Orrin replied, he warmed at the compliment of being another hero and politely declined the ale. At the mention of elves his interest piqued, "I've never seen elves" Orrin replied "I'd be glad to accompany you on your journey" He cheerfully looked over at the map and stared in awe at all land. "I've still got a log way to go" he commented, the smell of the pipe and the sound of wind against dead trees placed him in a nearly dreamlike state, Orrin sat back and looked around "What happened to this place?" he asked

A chilly wind nipped at exposed skin still alabaster even after hours in the sun, and tugged at loose bistre hair. The trees of this Hallan bluff would have once kept the winds and fog at bay from the cloaked woman within, but the foliage had long since burned. Tall oaks covered in mosses and leaved were now narrow black trunks crumbling in the wind. The ground still bore the marks of the fires. Little grass had grown back, it was as though the earth beneath her feet was dead.

Running a hand through her softly waving hair, Fior scoffed with frustration. If only her mare had not been dragged off and butchered by an Orc...She would not be walking--wandering by foot like she had much of her time. Her travels would be so much easier. "Not everything can be like Ballardir..." She grumbled. Things just can't be easy.

The ranger's hand fell instinctively to her hip to rest upon the metal pommel of the longsword strapped there. Being caught off guard by anything that breathed really was not on Fior's agenda. Finding the Orc that killed her mount was. It had only been two days, after eating a whole equine it couldn't have been moving too fast. It was here somewhere.

Hazel eyes carefully scanned the world around them as she walked, any trace, any at all Fior was confident she would find it. If she was careful not to tromp Fior might even get the card of surprise in her hand.

Walking for only an hour or what he thought was an hour since he wasn’t good at telling time from watching the skies he found himself hearing strange sounds not far off. Continuing to walk at his normal pace the sounds started to become clearer and soon became distinguishable as Orcs speaking. Dropping to the ground he began to slowly crawl his way up a small hill no more than a couple feet in height, the dust of the Wastelands covering his clothing as he did so. As he reached the top the hill he decided it to be best to stay hidden so rolled a few times until he reached a tree with a rather large trunk. Tree was growing from the highest point on the hill and commanded the surroundings rather well. Slowing lifting himself to the tree he sat on the ground, his back leaning against the tree’s trunk hiding any sight of him.

“What!” An Orc yelled, who seemed to be enraged by something told to him. Not more than a few seconds later the sound of a blade slicing through flesh, and simultaneously a loud squeal of pain followed by a thud that could have only been an Orc falling to the ground. “What does he mean the camp is gone?! Answer me now!” From the sounds of it this yelling Orc must have been the leader, and he seemed enraged that the camp he left in the hands of him men was gone.

Leaning against the tree still a smirk sneaked its way unto his face. “Seems I was able to find that Orc Chieftain without the liar’s help.” He said softly to himself, being careful not to make to much noise less he be heard. Looking down in his hand he still grasped the dagger used to slit the Orc’s throat from the camp. The blood by now was fully dry, leaving a blackened crust on his dagger that faintly showed due from the blades already blackened color.

“It’s just gone… I don’t know what else to say. The camp is just gone sir. Nothing is left, the only thing remaining were piles of what looked like compost that littered the whole area.” The terror in the Orc’s voice was prevalent, he to was scared for his life.

Letting out a loud roar the Orc’s temper reached its boiling point. His heavy breathing could be heard and when it finally seemed he calm the sound of steel meeting flesh sounded once more. “I want to know what happened to the camp, go now and find out!” He yelled again, rage vibrating in his voice.

Giving salutes to their Chieftain a larger group of twenty or so Orcs burst over the hill the figure was silently hiding on. Holding his breath the Orcs ran pass him wildly, to focused on the task at hand to even notice him just sitting there against the tree. Waiting a few minutes to make sure the Orcs were long gone he decided it was time to get this Orc slaying started. Slowly leaning to the side, careful not to make a sound, he poked his head out from behind the tree trunk. Before his only four Orcs, all with their backs turned from him, sat at a bonfire. None of them seemed to be any sort of Chieftain, more like elite guards. Slowing leaning back against the tree than to the other side he remained silent as he poked his head out again. There sitting at a large picnic like table sat six more Orcs, all of whom were to busy stuffing their face’s with food to notice him watching. Facing away from him were three more elite guards, while on the other side of the table sat two more with their Chieftain in between them. Taking a closer look at the table he couldn’t tell what they were eating, but a horse carcass not far from them gave him a good idea.

Leaning back against the tree he pondered how he would go about taking on these nine elite guard along with their Chieftain. He figured that if he was able to remain silent and get over more to his left to another large tree he would be in a good position to strike the four Orcs eating at the bonfire, killing them all before either one had a chance to get up. This still left him with five and the Chieftain to deal with, much better odds but still not enough to be tipped in his favor. If he got lucky and two of the guards at the table reacted slowly to his attack on the others he could hit them with spells, but after that he would be in a melee fight that odds were against him.

Sitting there for some time he couldn’t figure out how to at least kill one more elite before they had enough time to fully react. Grabbing up a handful of dust he let it slip through his fingers, and that’s when it hit him. “The dust, I’ll use the dust!” He shouted loudly in his thoughts. It was a perfect idea, after killing the four at the bonfire he would use his death magic on the ground to force the loose dust to fly in the direction of the others. It wouldn’t kill any of them but the magic mixed in with it would temporally blind them so he could get at least three, maybe four, spells before he would be forced to fighting a melee conflict.

With a smirk on his face he slide onto his back and slowly made his way back down the hill to insure he wouldn’t be seen. Crouching as he got to the bottom of the hill he walked in a hastened speed to the tree he figured would give him the best vantage point on the orcs. Making as little noise as he could he unsheathed his blackened steel longsword and one of his nice inch long blackened daggers, holding the sword in his right hand and the dagger in his left. Making his way up the hill again he hid behind the new tree and slowly poked his head out from behind it to see that the Orcs hadn’t even moved from their meals. Turning around he stood crouched on his feet, timing his attack for the right moment.

Looking down from the hill he was ready to attack and without warning he ran down the hill, making as little sound as possible. Quickly he reached the Orcs at the bonfire and before they had even managed to hear his footsteps he was slashing and slicing at them. Within seconds the four fell forwards, their heads landing in the fire.

Hearing the blades the other Orcs stared at their attacker, jumping up from the table.

Quickly he cast a large spell, sweeping his arms all the way out than back again, causing the dust to mix in with the magic and with great force rush towards the Orcs and blind them. Concentrating his magic to his hands large auras of black smoke formed and with a thrust from his arms they shot from his towards the Orcs. Hitting two Orcs like intended they let out loud screams of pain as the dark smoke hit their armor and melted its way into their chest. Quickly focusing more magic to his hands again he launched two more clouds of smoke and this time hit one more Orc dead on, melting his chest wide open like the others. The other cloud managed to hit another Orc but it only got him arm, burning it off at the shoulder but it still caused his to fall in pain, putting him out of the fight.

Still slightly blinded from the dust the two other elite guards lifted their axes high into the air and charged the assailant. Their Chieftain followed behind them, wielding a bastard sword the size of which no mortal man would be able to lift and use.

Dodging the swings from the axes coming at him he turned than ducked as the Chieftain’s sword swung overhead. Not having the time need to focus enough magic he launched a small could of smoke from his right hand and his one of the elite Orcs in the leg, this magic didn’t have the strength to melt his armor or skin but it was more than enough to send a large jolt of pain up his leg. As the Orc let out a cry of pain he wanted to try and finish him off but with another swing coming from the other elite and than that bastard sword swinging down on him he was forced to move out of the way. Trying to hit the Chieftain he managed to catch flesh but just barely with the tip of his longsword, leaving nothing but a minor wound.

Dodging more blows from the elite Orcs and Chieftain he had noticed the Orc he hit was limping severely to his left, making his right handed attacking style of little to no use. Sending another blast of dark smoke at the Orc he hit him again in the same leg, and this time the pain was too much. His leg buckled under the weight and as the Orc let out a scream of pain he fell uncontrollable to the ground, landing on the edge of his own axe. Holding his sword tightly in his right hand and his dagger in the left still he backed up slowly as the two remaining Orcs closed in on him.

Fior had tracked the trail left by the Orc through the bluff whining and veering for what seemed like forever. However she knew that it had only been maybe just past an hour or so. It was really a disturbing path to follow. There was the scent of iron—her mare’s blood and tuffs are hair caught on dry barks. Her face pleated with disgust. She paid good money for that horse, it was a purebred Muniqi. She was the best damn beast she had ever had.

The trail had led her to a clearing; it was a camp. The Orc camp…

Fior was used to waiting, crouching like a predator waiting, just waiting for its prey. She spent more time crouching close the earth watching from afar. The unpleasant voices of the monsters sounded like metal on stone—just painful to hear. One was roaring in fury that over shadowed a weak cry.

Orcs...

Fior was however unaware that there was another whom had their eyes set on this camp. She was far too intention on the scene before her. A rough work toughened hand grasped the grip of the sword. The scent of filth, burning wood, and blood reached her nose. Nasty beasts.
There was another voice, it was weary and lower; perhaps afraid? The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Fior could feel the second roar in her bones before yet another cry sounded out. It was much lower, almost nonexistent beyond their camp. More noise followed, and she could see the gross figures moving about. They were not her concern…where was the damn horse?

Grey eyes fell onto the burning fire surrounded by bodies…beside it was the body, or at least what was left of her white mare. It’s fur was patchy and caked in her own blood. It was sickening..but Fior had a mission to do.

“One..two…three…four…five…six…seven…..eight…..nine…” The female ranger mouthed the numbers silently to herself. There were nine armed Orc’s in total; too many for a lone ranger.

Faintly she made out the sound of motion within the woods…an animal she bet—or a fool. The last thing she was expecting was another warrior on the prowl. The small amount of foliage on the ground rustled slightly again in muffled sweeps. Fior was reluctant to take her eyes off the feasting Orcs….She didn’t have to. A figure burst out with swift speed. Immediately her eyes caught the familiar glint of sun on steal.

Fior swore seething curses. It was her horse. It was her target. It was hers…Though she would admit he did make it easy for her…

Her booted feet sprang into action as she too left the shelter of her hiding spot, but skittered to a halt when dust rose in a murky wave from the ground, sweeping over whatever was in its way. What the--?! The Orcs were screeching in pain from the dust. A spell casting…it had to be. The smoke-like the dust ate away at the bipedal beasts. Another went down, his chest burned open.

A vague smile played at her lips.

Two more screamed through the smoke of their sizzling armor while Fior stalked closer. The enemy of her enemy might not be her friend. In times like this paranoia was survival. They were still blinded; this gave her a chance to slip in, get done and be gone as though she never was there.
Two more of the pack lifted their massive axes far into the air as they charged the man. Behind them was their leader—the Chieftain toting the largest of weapons she had ever seen! The man did his best to be agile while Fior rushed down the remainder of the hill. The rushing air whirling past her grabbed at her cloak snapping it as she went. There was no need for surprise any longer. She just had to get to the carcass of her mare-- to the saddle really.

Another Orc buckled and hit the ground at his knees. Suddenly it hit her; she was going to have to get through the battle in her way…So much for him making it easy for her. Her left hand drew out her long sword from its sheath. Fior took a low stance and crept to the fray behind one of the ax wielding Orcs.

Fluidly she swung the blade at the back of his leg behind the knee cutting the tendons and painting her blade with dark blood. He grunted and swung his ac backward at her. Fior pushed a stride backward too. Blocking the force of the ax might damage her blade.

Malus smiled. Before him there was a mighty city of Curia...one of the last cities that had survived the many dozen attacks, and the place where Malus had heard Thurmein 'Bull Boy' was. Bull Boy...cute...for a human, Malus thought, and then turned, and frowned.

He just realized that he had been so damn lucky to be given a horde of stinking orcs, and a single battalion of dark elves. He took a tissue to cover his mouth and nose.
"What cha' doin' boss?" one of the orcs asked dumply.
"Sniffing to perfume fish brain," Malus answered irritated and the orc nodded, believing Malus, What an idiot, Malus thought and then turned to the suppose-to-be orc generals, "You all know what you are suppose to do?"
"Ja! We kno' wat wee need two do, lord Malus," the orc answered, then turned to the hordes of orcs and bellowed a loud war cry, which was answered by the many thousand orcs, which began to move towards the thick walls of the city.

Malus knew that the orcs were close to being literally brainless, but it had its advantages, especially since the orcs didn't think so much about fear, so using them as a division against the humans while he and his dark elf battalion and some orcs would attack elsewhere, where there would be less resistance and would allow Malus to attack the humans from the back, catching them by surprise, and then open the gates, so the orcs could come into the city, and do the dirty work.

Malus ordered the dark elves and the chosen orc raiders to move around the city, out of sight, so they could do their part of the plan.
The other side of the city was barely defended as most of the soldiers had gone to fend off the orcish attackers. Perfect, Malus thought, and then nodded for the dark elven assassins, who then ran across the field when the guard's attention was more on the defenders and then began to climb up the walls. they killed the guards and then opened the gates for Malus and his men.

Moving swiftly into the city, Malus ordered the orcs to create chaos inside the city, so they could create another division for the humans, Malus and the dark elves would in the meantime move towards the gate, where they would cut their way to the gates and open them.

Malus and the battalion of dark elves made their through the city with ease. The people were too terrified to stop them.
"Kill them all!" Malus yelled as they came to the gates. the dark elves stormed out of the streets, attacking the human soldiers from the behind. It was more of slaughter than battle, but it was a slaughter that would secure Malus his victory. Malus wasn't going to join the battle, he knew he had won. The human's ranks had been thinned in order to keep the lines, they were caught off guard and were being killed from the back...and they weren't nearly as experienced as the long living dark elves.

Within the next ten minutes the gates were opened aqnd the endless tide of savage orc poured into the city, like an angry ocean.

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Grug swung his sword and sliced through a human's torso armor, and then with his axe did he chop off the left arm of a second human. Swinging both weapons wildly, he saw only blood fly around him, and in his ear, the sweet sound of the screaming humans was like music for him.

"Waaaaaagh!" Grug yelled. He and the other orc raiders had caused the humans to divided their soldiers in order for Malus to attack the gates.
Grug really like the leader, he certainly did know how to win battles in a manner that any orc would like...with tons of slaughter and lots of blood, fighting, and fire...no wait...the fire was Grug's doing.

Smiling grimly, Grug dropped his weapons, grabbed a human soldier by the head and began to bite as hard as he could in the neck, tasting the hot blood in his mouth, Grug bit harder and then threw his head backward, casing a large chunk of meat from the neck to be ripped off. The human screamed with his last breath and Grug began to chew on the meat, "Me like human flesh."

As the gates opened the orcs began to pour in and the humans were overwhelmed, now all that Grug and the others had to do was to have fun...kill anything that wasn't a dark elf or an orc.

News of the 'Bull Boy' 's defeat spread through the ranks of orcs and dark elves as quick as a fire the wind blew during storms, creating a frenzy for the warriors, urging them to cause even more destruction.

"Most humans can't take dwarf mead, too strong."
Grungnir took another swig and began to tell the story,
"It was 70 years ago, the elves loast control of the winds of magic, us dwarves never trusted magic, knew it would end badly. Fires rained from teh sky causing utter chaos which gave the orcs a chance to attack. The dark elves broke away from the other elves and the daemons just, well, appeared. After almost a century of war this is where we are now. My father was there when the skies burned and the land cracked. Hell, i heard the shockwaves where felt across the world. This continent is ruined, probably will never recover, I reckon we're fighting a lost war but hey, who am I to complain."
He stood up and began walking.
"you comin' or what? Wait in the distance, Curia is burning. Dammit, thats another human bastion fallen. Probably to that evil dark elf Malus darkblade. Been terrorising settlements since the dark elves split from the elves 50 years ago. Well he's a dark elf, whadya expect."
Grungnir emptied his pipe and beckoned Orrin to follow him.

"Elves, Dark Elves, Dwarves, So many strange people on this planet" Orrin muttered. He relaxed and took up an easy stroll catching up with Grungnir "Why are there dark elves and regular elves" Orrin asked "Ah you don't have to answer that Grungnir, i'm just speaking aloud my thoughts" he looked around at the wasteland and sighed, now i wish i was born earlier Orrin thought "Why in the world would humans make villagaes out in this wasteland" he muttered

"They wish to expand, to rebuild this empire, before the cataclysm their empire stretched across the plains, spanning most of the continent. There are many who wish to relive the glorious days, but there is nothing but death to be found in this land. But hey someone has to stop the enemy."
Grungnir pointed at the burning town.
"We should go there, see what all the commosion is about. We can get to Ballardir easily from there and take a boat to Silva."
Grungnir heard a grunt nearby. He loaded his crossbow.
"Looks like we've got company, you know how to fight. Well knows your chance to show me what your made of."
Several orcs jumped at them. Grungnir released his bolt, hitting an orc in the eye, he drew his axe and shield and hacked at another one.
"For Galrakor, for honour. Karak narz baldun!"

"So tiring" Orrin replied, he drew his Longknife and spun the steel slipping into the neck and back out like butter "What stange weapons to use" His scimitar flashed out and sliced through a hamstring, the orc fell to his knees his roar of pain ending when steel met eye, "I can see they hold alot of power for each swing, but heavy slashes like these only led to a death." he lowkick a rushing orc and twisted angling his scimitar to catch and deflect an axe to the ground, then brought his blade up for a deadly finish. he turned again knife flashing into the other orc's skull before he backed away, the orc's looked nervous now "I do believe we have them frightened" He said calmly but he knew what the orc's saw, he'd seen it reflected in each of their eyes as he finished them off, the eye's of uncaring, of no mercy and death. But for now he shoved the feeling deep in the back of his mind, he'd deal with it later.

"Grraaaarr!" Grungnir hacked at another orcs head, it's life blood spraying the sand. He felt a sharp pain and looked down, an arrow embedded in his side.
"I will not die now!" He rushed forward and cut the archer's arms off, then driving his shield into its face. Blocking some arrows with his shield he kicked an orc in the stomach before cutting down on his shoulder.
"You will all die!"
He slumped to the floor on his knees, feeling weak. He took out another at the knees.
"I will fight till the end!"