Several hours had passed until the moon grew full at the highest point in the sky, bathing its light upon the tops of the trees and the spacious valley between mountaintops. Awakened by the first watch retiring from his duties, Dalmar groggily got upon his feet and walked into the darkness and cover of the forest. A cool breeze blew through the trees in inermittent gusts rattling the leaves, their rusting taking over all other sounds in the forest. Dalmar shivered as he wiped his eyes clear of the the crusty sleep on his lids. Dalmar stood there scanning the area for movement, and he could hear another breeze moving through the forest, soon realizing that it carried the smell of water from the south. This conjured a powerful thirst into being, and Dalmar's mouth began to feel parched. Reacting to his thirst, Dalmar followed the aroma of water to the south about one hundred meters until he came to the edge of a dark pond where he stopped down in the moonlight and quenched his thrst. Dalmar surmised that at anytime he may be discovered out of position, but he rationalized that he would be back in less time than it took for anything to infiltrate the perimeter. Dalmar began to feel pretty easy about his decision, and relaxed a bit as he walked through the wood. The ground had become somewhat trampled by the men moving through the forest from Irongard, making it easier to move quietly from one area to another.
Dalmar realized he didn't think to fill his water cask, and decided to go back to the water for a quick refill. He tiptoed over the loose leaves, and avoided the ground beside the shadows caused by the moonlight cast over the limbs laying precariously on the ground. Finally, he reached the water's edge again and filled his cask. With one last scoop of cool water into his mouth, Dalmar heard the cracking of a stick several meters away along the bank of the pond. Dalmar froze, his eyes moving fiercely from side to side looking for any evidence of movement or "large pigs on two feet", but he discovered no such things. Dalmar held his breath as his heart raced, and he lost track of time. Slowly, Dalmar rose to his feet keeping his eyes upon the dark waters that had suddenly become mysterious and likely filled with evil spirits and hidden monsters. A drop of perspiration ran down the side of his face despite the chilling breeze that blew from one end of the forest to the other.
Crack!
Another branch broke under the weight of someone or something, but this time it was closer. The sound startled Dalmar as he jumped and let out a muffled noise as he tried to remain silent. In doing this, his breathing increased and he found it too loud, so he held his breath.
Crack!
This time, Dalmar heard the stick break. Startled once again but sure of the offender's origins, Dalmar whipped his body around 180 degrees, and stared the intruder in the face. Its yellow eyes stared back at him with a tusk-filled scowl highlighted only by the glitter of the moonlight from his silver breastplate. The foul creature seemed to smile as his four-fingered hand grasped his red glazed blade in its hand, and Dalmar jumped back and grabbed for his sword. Dalmar took a deep breath as his blade rang like a bell with the release from its scabbard. Then time seemed to slow down as the beastly intruder's sword cut through the air in search of Dalmar's neck. Dalmar tipped his head backwards as the tip of the blade scraped his adam's apple. Dalmar rebounded with a powerful cross-body slice glancng off the Orc's armor with a loud ringing into the otherwise indfferent forest. The blow knocked the Orc off-balance as it stumbled, trying to regain its stance on the loose ground. Dalmar brought his sword back to his body, and with a mighty thrust skewered the Orc through the chest. As he did so, the Orc's blood spurted from its glistening nose and struck Dalmar in the eye. The salt of the blood caused Dalmar to hold his eyes shut as they both fell heavily to the ground, one on top of the other holding tightly to the hilt of the blade. As the bodies struck the ground, they both exhaled loudly - Dalmar from the blow, and the Orcs with his death knell.
Crack!
Dalmar's drew in a mighty, wheezing breath in an attempt to fill his lungs once again. The depletion of air to his brain caused his bodiy to seize momentarily, and his senses to fall short of their duties. It was with this replenishing breath that Dalmar realized he landed upon the hilt of his own sword still pluunged withing the Orc's breast.
Crack!
Dalmar's heart raced like a herd of wild horses escaping capture. He heard that last stick break, and it came from the same direction the last orc came. Once again, Dalmar froze and scanned the scenery, but the dakness of the night's forest yielded no results. Dalmar breathed. Dalmar paused, and looked again. He looked hard at where he knew trees were mixed with the shadows of foliage.
Crack!
Dalmar dare not move. This time the sound came between he and the campsite where the glowing embers of campfire on their last few bits of charred wood smoked slowly in the Forest. Dalmar rose slowly, watching the forest intently. Something wasn't right. Something was out of place. Dalmar turned around and looked at the trail of bright, white moonlight off the surface of the water rippling with the motion of the forest breeze.
Crack!
The sound of snaping twigs broke out into the silence of the forest once again. Dalmar's head snapped back facing forward, his vision grazing a shiny piece of metal as his nose stopped to face forward. Then the shiny object registered in his mind.
Crack!
Dalmar spun around in time to dodge the strike of another Orc scout. His blade still in his hand, Dalmar used the momentum of his maneuver to carry the force of his reply to the back of the Orc's neck, separating its head from its shoulders. Comically, the head sailed into the water with a big splash, and the body of mismatched armor fell heavily to the forest floor, draping itself across the body of the other dead Orc. Certain he was out of danger for the moment, Dalmar gathered his senses and dashed towards the nearest campfire. He hopped over a fallen tree that was used for firewood earlier by some of the mercenaries from Irongard. As his foot sturck the ground on the other side, it landed awkwardly upon a softer, loose piece of debris. Dalmar fell to the ground, his face landing beside the body of a bloodied corpse assumed to once have been a man from Irongard. Jittery, Dalmar jumped from his position, and forgetting about the pain in his ankle ran toward the sleeping men. As he cleared another fallen log, Dalmar heard the familiar sound of an arrow piercing the air behind him, and he instinctively ducked as a large shaft made a distinctive "Thunk!" into the side of a tree. Dalmar ran as fast as he could as a multitude of broken twigs rained out of the trees behind him.
As Dalmar entered the edge of the camp, Dalmar took the flat of his blade and struck it against his other sword's flat. "Attack! The Orcs are coming! Ambush!" Dalmar yelled as the men of Irongard began to spring into action with sword and shield. On either side of Dalmar arrows rang out piercing his comrades before they even awoke from their slumbers. The Orcs began to pour out into the camp like water falling over a waterfall onto the rocks. The men of Irongard were overmatched, and Dalmar knew it. Any fool could see that these men were doomed, half of which never even saw it coming before the cold grip of death took them.
Dalmar flailed his two swords in tandem at the invaders - some of which saw him coming, and some of which merely fell victim to his marauding wall of twisting blades. As he raised his swords together in a mighty slash upon what seemed like an Orc captain, Dalmar's foot fell into a hole and he twisted the same injured ankle. Reacting, Dalmar dropped his swords to grab his ankle. Dalmar cried out in pain, and he lifted his chin as he yelled at the face of the snarling offender. The monstrous Orc grasped his huge axe with two hands and grinned with anticipation of slicing Dalmar's head from his body. Instinctively, Dalmar reached into his saddlebag wth the speed of a phoenix and pulled one of the daggers from its leather binding. Dalmar's eyes never fell upon the dagger as he thrust it at the Orc's belly below its falling axeblade. Striking paydirt, Dalmar rolled to his left and pulled the second dagger from its leather binding as he came to rest upon one knee. Dalmar raised the dagger above his own head. With furious resolve, Dalmar let out a mighty yell as he plunged the dagger into the back of the Orc captain, and the Orc captain froze. The gigantic axe stopped in mid-air, on its way to the ground where Dalmar once knelt, the captain still wearing the expression of evil and thrill. As a giant, Orc-shaped icicle, the foul attacker stood motionless.
Dalmar paused in disbelief, and even took the time to poke the swine-like creature with his index finger. Hesitating, Dalmar reached between the legs of the Orc captain grabbing one of his swords that lay on the ground where it was dropped. Dalmar never took his eyes off the Orc captain, for fear that this state was a ploy of some sort. The sword chimed as it scraped the ground until Dalmar raised it above his head, paused, and then brought it down through the green flesh of the Orc captain's neck. Then, as if the entire sea of green flesh stopped squirming as they noticed their leader fallen in a pool of his own blood, the orcs began to ring out with their horns, calling to one another as if to say their leader was dead. One after another, the Orcs fled into the darkness of the wood like a newly discovered snake running away from a mongoose. From one end of the line of smoldering, extinguished campfires cheers began to ring out from the mercenaries who remained. Dalmar fell to his knees, removed the daggers from the body of the Orc captain with swiftness and stealth, and quietly returned them to his saddlebags.
Dalmar breathed freely for the first time in almost two hours. As he sat there on his knees, the nearby men patted him on his back, but he did not notice. The men of Irongard marveled at the size of the dead Orc captain, and even began to jest at using the humongous axe laying wedged between two of the Orc's ribs where the corpse fell. In a matter of moments, the headless body was completey devoid of all things of value - even its teeth. Dalmar still didn't notice, and he stood up and figured he'd better make it back to his part of camp as he was supposed to be there anyways. Tired, Dalmar walked lazily to where he started the night, stepping over the bodies of men and Orc alike. As he approached the log where he had slept earlier before his watch, he heard a voice call out to him from behind: "So, you finally decided to stand watch in your own quadrant, eh, Dalmar?" Dalmar recognized the voice of the Captain and its sarcastic tone. Dalmar turned to address the Captain, and was prepared to provide a retort of equal saracsm, but he noticed the Captain was smiling at him. Dalmar grinned as the Captain patted him on the shoulder. "A fine job, soldier. A damn fine job!", the Captain said as he smiled and wiped the orc blood from his own nose.
"But, how....?" Dalmar uttered.
"I saw the whole damned thing, boy! The whole damn thing! Tomorrow, you're eating breakfast with me. I want to hear everything - from beginning to end!" the Captain said with an insistent expression. The Captain winked a fatherly wink at Dalmar, smiled, and turned around to supervise the clearing of the dead bodies. Dalmar decided that because he was still actually on watch that he should go finish his shift, and he walked back to his spot in the woods. He slouched down beside the trunk of a tree as he thought about what had happened. Dalmar then smiled a tired, sheepish smile, opened his water cask, and drank. As he closed the water container, he stared at it and asked, "was it worth it to sneak over there for some water?" Realizing that everything seemed to start and end with his need and desire for water, Dalmar nodded as if talking to an old friend. Yeah, it was worth it. It was real worth it. But he hadn't quite decided whether or not the Captain needed to know this. But hell, in all honesty and for the first time in as long as he could remember, he didn't really care.
EOF
Invino Veritas
6/7/11
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