It doesn’t take long for Marcus to realize this was what true battle looked like. He’d never been in a combat with more than twenty or so combatants before this. Now, all of a sudden he was thrust into a melee with thousands.
Even with Erised’s efforts, the numbers were undeniably lopsided. As the orcish horde slams into their fortifications, Marcus finds himself hoping that that old curmudgeon of a Paladin, Sir Bartholomew, might actually have been right. Maybe they would easily withstand two thousand orc warriors after all. He still wasn’t entirely ready to forgive the veteran Paladin for his comments regarding Erised, but over the past three days Marcus had spent quite a lot of time in the fighting ring and he knew he’d earned Bartholomew’s respect.
He'd earned so much damn respect from the Paladins around him that he thought he might get sick on it. Especially because even now, he couldn’t help but feel like a… a fraud. A feeling that was only made worse by the orders that the Princess had given him.
Obviously, he would have preferred to be by Princess Elsenthia’s side as battle was joined. He might not have known her very long, but what he’d seen so far had made him certain he didn’t want to risk any harm coming to her. Barring the ability to see out the battle at her side, Marcus would have preferred to at least stand on the front lines and weather the oncoming orcish storm alongside the rest of the Crusade.
Unfortunately, he was currently doing neither of those things. He couldn’t fight beside the Princess because she herself was not currently on the frontlines. Instead, Princess Elsenthia had taken her warhorse and the small amount of calvary that had come with the Crusade, a fighting force numbering over fifty but less than a hundred, in order to prepare a calvary charge. They were on the far side of the Crusade’s camp, waiting for the orcs to engage before hitting them from the side with all their might in hopes of ruining their initial rush.
Seeing as Marcus didn’t have a mount himself, least of all a full-blown warhorse, he was unable to join her.
Neither could he fight on the frontlines due to Elsenthia’s final orders. She’d phrased them as a request of course, but Marcus knew better by now. It had taken him a little bit of time to realize why their dynamic felt ever so slightly awkward. She was the Crown Princess, one of the most powerful and influential individuals in all of the Empire. She was the Elite of the Elite.
And yet, she acted as though she did not dare to command him. She acted as though he was her equal. At first, this had baffled Marcus. Until he’d realized how some of the Paladins looked at him. Like he was their Holy Light itself made manifest and walking amongst them. They deified him as the Destined Hero, and his victories in the sparring ring had only made it worse. Elsenthia was afraid of the power Marcus barely even recognized he had over her troops. She was afraid she would upset him and cause him to take control of the Crusade or something.
Never mind that Marcus didn’t know the first thing about commanding hundreds of Paladins in battle. Never mind that he was no strategist or tactician. Realizing why Elsenthia was so cautious around him, Marcus had ultimately done his best to defer to her, to strengthen her position among the Paladins by always giving her his support.
This, however, made it impossible for Marcus to say no when Elsenthia had practically begged him to hang back as the battle began so he could look for any sign of the hidden Dark Lord they were all convinced would be fighting on the side of the Orc Warband. Needless to say, Marcus doubted he would find said Dark Lord. After all… he knew deep down inside that HE was the Dark Lord.
Clenching his teeth, Marcus’ hands grip tightly at the haft of his halberd as he watches the first of the charging orcs crash into the paladin fortifications. A burst of bright light goes up, and even the Dark General is pushed back a good thirty yards, her distinctive pitch black armor and metal slab of a sword making her easy enough to pick out of the crowd. Meanwhile, those orc warriors foolish enough to charge with her are sent flying, momentarily stymying the charge as easily a hundred paladins all imbue their shields with Holy Light, embodying the attribute of Protector above all others.
Things look quite good in that moment. Promising, even. But there are so many more orcs than there are paladins. Even as he, Erised, and Angelina watch on from a hill further back in the camp, he feels the disguised demon at his side shuffling from foot to foot.
“Sorry I could not do more, Master.”
Marcus just shakes his head at that. He doesn’t blame Erised. She was but one woman, a single saboteur in a camp of thousands. What she’d managed to do was already more than could be expected of her. Tainting their food, killing a some of their leaders, ruining their weapons. All of it was going above and beyond what Marcus had expected from her.
Especially when he knew Erised would have preferred they were fighting on the sides of the orcs to begin with. That she was standing beside him even now, when he was acting like the furthest thing from a Dark Lord… it spoke well of her convictions if nothing else.
Reaching out with his free hand, Marcus places a hand on Erised’s shoulder, giving her a fond smile and a shake of his head.
“I appreciate everything you managed to do, Eris. Thank you.”
He doesn’t care who hears him in this instant. There are paladins within earshot but let them see him giving gratitude to who they think is a Thief and slave. Let them recognize that their so-called Destined Hero sees value in what they consider disgusting and valueless.
… But at the same time, that’s just it. He’s not the Destined Hero. Not truly. Or at least, even if he is… Marcus is also the Dark Lord.
Letting out a slow breath, Marcus watches as the orcs clash with the paladin frontline yet again. This time, the Dark General Roka-Ra is not quite so cavalier. She’s more methodical as she lets out a roar and stops short so she can swing that massive slab of black metal she wields. It slices across the shields that the Paladins in front of her are holding up to create the Holy Barrier… and cuts right through them.
A cry of dismay comes up, as the frontline is pushed back. Seizing the opportunity for what it is, hundreds of orcs charge forward. Plenty of them die for it. Paladins wielding Holy Light smite the green-skinned creatures wherever they can. Marcus even catches sight of Sir Bartholomew leading by example, the old Paladin fighting with a handpicked squad of his best students. And then he loses sight of them, as the fortifications continue to slowly splinter apart and things descend into a full-blown melee.
It’s when Marcus realizes that the horde of orc warriors are beginning to encircle the camp that he knows he can no longer sit idly by. They’re not even doing it on purpose, or at least not doing it with any real tactics behind their actions. There’s just so many of the green-skinned orcs that they end up spilling over onto the sides of the Crusade’s fortifications more and more. Meanwhile, there simply aren’t enough Paladins to keep the camp from being surrounded. Gritting his teeth, the young half-orc hefts his halberd up.
“Angelina. Eris. With me.”
Neither of his party members hesitates, though a nearby Paladin does look at him, alarmed.
“Sir Hero? Have you detected the Dark Lord’s foul magics?”
Marcus resists the urge to snort derisively at that. Instead, he shakes his head before pinning the Paladin with his gaze.
“Relay a message to the Princess. I do not believe the Dark Lord is here. If they are, they are holding back just as I am… and from what I can see, this sitting and waiting favors them in the long run more than us. I’m joining the fight… and I suggest the Princess and her calvary do the same.”
The wide-eyed Paladin nods, and that’s all Marcus waits for before he begins moving forward. To their credit, Angelina and Erised are by his side the whole way, neither of them falling behind as he leads them to strike at the Orc Warband’s left flank. Knowing that Elsenthia’s calvary charge will come from the right, it’s all Marcus can do.
He’s tempted for a moment to go looking for Roka-Ra right off the bat, but he’s already lost track of her as things became a mass of pressing bodies. And besides, if he goes to the center, he’s allowing the orcs to encircle the far outnumbered paladins without even putting up a fight. And as strong as Marcus is, even he’s not sure he can win a battle surrounded by two thousand orc warriors.
Instead, Marcus and his party hit the left flank with all they’ve got, and a moment later a horn sounds out that he recognizes as the signal for Elsenthia’s calvary charge. She and the rest of the Crusade’s mounted combatants will be hitting the right flank now, striking at the Orc Warband where they’re least expecting it, hopefully.
Marcus can’t focus on that though. He can only focus on the orcs right in front of him. Activating both Dark Power and Dark Presence, Marcus watches the beady, sunken eyes of hundreds of green-skinned monsters snap to him. The Paladins on this side of the battle also look to him for a moment, before letting out a collective cheer as they begin to fight with renewed vigor against the enemies assailing them.
That cheer is drowned out a moment later by the angry roar that looses itself from hundreds of orc throats. With single-minded focus, every orc within range of his Dark Presence does their best to reach him. The horde of warriors were already lacking in any sort of martial discipline before, showing none of the crisp, clean professionalism of the Paladins and their Crusade. But now, these orcs in particular completely forget even the enemies they were just fighting.
It costs many of them their lives, as they turn their backs on their paladin opponents and immediately get cut down for their troubles. However, just as many didn’t have opponents to begin with, outnumbered as the Crusade is. Those rush towards Marcus with no one to block their path.
But that’s okay. Because Marcus is ready for them. As Angelina’s holy spells bolster his strength, the first orc reaches him and Marcus reacts with blinding swiftness. It’s his first time fighting orcs with his full regalia. His armor, enchanted by the Holy Pope herself, glows with protective light. Meanwhile, his halberd glows even brighter still as it flashes out and cuts the orc’s head from his shoulders.
From then on, everything shrinks down to a pinpoint. Marcus is no strategist. He’s certainly no leader. He was nothing more than a downtrodden orphan just as recently as two months ago. But what he is now is a fighter. A warrior in his own right. All he can do in this moment is fight. All he can do is kill. It’s what he’s good at now. The killing. And so he kills and kills, knowing that the consequences for failure are too high for him to do anything else.
He’s not sure how much time passes. It feels like hours, but it can’t possibly be that long. Even still, the fighting is fierce all around them. He keeps moving forward because to stand in one place is death. Not his death, for he’s not certain that even all two thousand of these orcs working together could possibly kill him. He feels almost invincible at that moment.
No, him staying in one place is the death of his allies. The brave men and women fighting alongside him, in front of him, behind him, and all over the camp. The Crusade is horrendously outnumbered, and every time he sees an armored body fall, their shimmering plate losing its shine as it strikes into the mud at their feet, Marcus knows they’ve just lost another step of ground in this fight.
And that’s without taking into account the shamans. They’re not as strong as Paladins, Sir Bartholomew was right about that. Not a single orc shaman is actually striding forth to do battle one on one or anything like that. Instead, they hang back, seemingly acting as support with spells that cause roots to burst out of the ground, or the ground itself to coalesce into boulders that smash into members of the Crusade from behind.
It can’t be allowed to continue; Marcus finally realizes after who knows how long. None of it can be allowed to continue. He has to end it and the only way he can think to do so is by tracking down the Dark General in this mess and defeating her. Knowing what he knows, that there is no Dark Lord backing up this insanity, Marcus can only hope that Roka-Ra’s defeat will force the Orc Warband into retreat.
Spinning around, Marcus looks to his party members. Both are looking dirtier and tired, but no worse for wear. First, he nods to Erised.
“Eris! I need you to put a stop to the shamans’ interference. Do you think you can do that?”
The disguised demon’s eyes narrow at that and her cat ears twitch atop her skull.
“… What will you be doing?”
Marcus grimaces but doesn’t dare lie to her, not now.
“I’m going to find the Dark General and end this.”
Looking to Angelina hopefully, Marcus gestures to the battle raging around them.
“Angelina, do you think you can locate her for me?”
“Yes, Sir Hero!”
When he turns back to Erised, it’s to find the diminutive disguised demon is right in front of him. Marcus blinks as she grabs him by the front of his armor and yanks him down to her level. She whispers in his ear for a moment, causing his eyes to widen at what she tells him. Then, she whispers one last thing, impossible for anyone else to hear over the din of battle.
“… Your will be done, my Lord.”
With that, Erised darts away, all but vanishing into the press of combat. Marcus barely has time to watch her leave, before Angelina pipes up.
“I’ve found her, Sir Hero! This way!”
What follows is a straight forward rush across the battlefield. Marcus doesn’t hesitate to follow Angelina’s lead, but she’s one of the least armored individuals on their side, so he spends just as much time getting between her and enraged orc warriors as he does bounding after her hurried steps. Luckily, Dark Presence keeps most of the enemies focused entirely on him. Angelina would otherwise be mince meat without it, as she was a prime target for their violence.
He's not sure how many more orcs he kills before they reach their destination. Dozens? Hundreds? The battlefield is becoming packed with bodies. It’s hard to take a step without running into one. Most are orcs, thankfully… but plenty are paladins as well. At one point, Marcus damn near trips over a particular plated form and finds himself stopping for a moment to stare down into the open, glazed eyes of one Paladin Bartholomew. The veteran is dead, blood trickling from his mouth… and pouring from the wound that punctured his plate armor and tore out a good chunk of his chest.
Feeling a pang that he can’t quite place, Marcus reaches down and closes Bartholomew’s eyes, one small show of respect to a Paladin who even now Marcus had conflicting feelings over. But he doesn’t have time to work his way through those feelings. He doesn’t have time for anything but ending this conflict.
“Sir Hero! Right ahead!”
Straightening up, Marcus bounds forward… and then goes wide-eyed as he sees what Angelina sees. His Holy Priestess has indeed led him to the Dark General Roka-Ra… as well as the Crown Princess Elsenthia. The two of them arrive just in time to see the Crown Princess get dismounted. Her warhorse had clearly served her well, painted in so much orc blood that it’s obvious Elsenthia had acquitted herself admirably in battle by anyone’s estimation.
But all Marcus sees is red as Roka-Ra cuts the warhorse’s limbs out from under it with her massive sword, sending the Princess sprawling into the mud in an undignified tumble. Before Elsenthia can even get to her feet, Roka-Ra is looming over her, easily twice the half-elf Princess’ size. There’s a pause, as the two exchange words. He’s not going to get another chance though, he’s sure of it.
Remembering what Erised whispered to him, Marcus raises his voice, shouting loudly to be heard over the sounds of battle all around them.
“GENERAL ROKA-RA! I CHALLENGE YOU TO TAH-MAK-AH! WINNER TAKES ALL!”
He’s not expecting his words to carry quite like they do. He’s spoken them just as Erised told them to, but it’s still strange how almost immediately a silence falls over the battlefield. Every eye, not just the Dark General’s, snaps to him as he stands there with his glowing halberd high in the air, Angelina by his side.
For a long moment, Roka-Ra stands still. The Dark General looks almost frozen in place. Then, she turns away from Princess Elsenthia. Wordlessly, she lifts her sword and takes a step towards him. And then another. And then she’s running, sprinting across the space between them as she rapidly closes the distance and charges him down.
He doesn’t care that she didn’t technically accept his challenge verbally. In the end, his only concern was keeping her from killing Elsenthia. Pushing Angelina away from him, Marcus just barely manages to get into a stance before the Dark General is upon him and they clash. Almost immediately, he can feel from her first blow that she’s not like the other orcs he’s fought.
Strangely, that makes him happy. An almost foreign feeling of satisfaction fills him as they clash and then come apart, facing off against one another. He would hate for this to be easy, even if he’s not entirely sure why…
-x-X-x-
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It doesn’t take long for Marcus to realize this was what true battle looked like. He’d never been in a combat with more than twenty or so combatants before this. Now, all of a sudden he was thrust into a melee with thousands.
Even with Erised’s efforts, the numbers were undeniably lopsided. As the orcish horde slams into their fortifications, Marcus finds himself hoping that that old curmudgeon of a Paladin, Sir Bartholomew, might actually have been right. Maybe they would easily withstand two thousand orc warriors after all. He still wasn’t entirely ready to forgive the veteran Paladin for his comments regarding Erised, but over the past three days Marcus had spent quite a lot of time in the fighting ring and he knew he’d earned Bartholomew’s respect.
He'd earned so much damn respect from the Paladins around him that he thought he might get sick on it. Especially because even now, he couldn’t help but feel like a… a fraud. A feeling that was only made worse by the orders that the Princess had given him.
Obviously, he would have preferred to be by Princess Elsenthia’s side as battle was joined. He might not have known her very long, but what he’d seen so far had made him certain he didn’t want to risk any harm coming to her. Barring the ability to see out the battle at her side, Marcus would have preferred to at least stand on the front lines and weather the oncoming orcish storm alongside the rest of the Crusade.
Unfortunately, he was currently doing neither of those things. He couldn’t fight beside the Princess because she herself was not currently on the frontlines. Instead, Princess Elsenthia had taken her warhorse and the small amount of calvary that had come with the Crusade, a fighting force numbering over fifty but less than a hundred, in order to prepare a calvary charge. They were on the far side of the Crusade’s camp, waiting for the orcs to engage before hitting them from the side with all their might in hopes of ruining their initial rush.
Seeing as Marcus didn’t have a mount himself, least of all a full-blown warhorse, he was unable to join her.
Neither could he fight on the frontlines due to Elsenthia’s final orders. She’d phrased them as a request of course, but Marcus knew better by now. It had taken him a little bit of time to realize why their dynamic felt ever so slightly awkward. She was the Crown Princess, one of the most powerful and influential individuals in all of the Empire. She was the Elite of the Elite.
And yet, she acted as though she did not dare to command him. She acted as though he was her equal. At first, this had baffled Marcus. Until he’d realized how some of the Paladins looked at him. Like he was their Holy Light itself made manifest and walking amongst them. They deified him as the Destined Hero, and his victories in the sparring ring had only made it worse. Elsenthia was afraid of the power Marcus barely even recognized he had over her troops. She was afraid she would upset him and cause him to take control of the Crusade or something.
Never mind that Marcus didn’t know the first thing about commanding hundreds of Paladins in battle. Never mind that he was no strategist or tactician. Realizing why Elsenthia was so cautious around him, Marcus had ultimately done his best to defer to her, to strengthen her position among the Paladins by always giving her his support.
This, however, made it impossible for Marcus to say no when Elsenthia had practically begged him to hang back as the battle began so he could look for any sign of the hidden Dark Lord they were all convinced would be fighting on the side of the Orc Warband. Needless to say, Marcus doubted he would find said Dark Lord. After all… he knew deep down inside that HE was the Dark Lord.
Clenching his teeth, Marcus’ hands grip tightly at the haft of his halberd as he watches the first of the charging orcs crash into the paladin fortifications. A burst of bright light goes up, and even the Dark General is pushed back a good thirty yards, her distinctive pitch black armor and metal slab of a sword making her easy enough to pick out of the crowd. Meanwhile, those orc warriors foolish enough to charge with her are sent flying, momentarily stymying the charge as easily a hundred paladins all imbue their shields with Holy Light, embodying the attribute of Protector above all others.
Things look quite good in that moment. Promising, even. But there are so many more orcs than there are paladins. Even as he, Erised, and Angelina watch on from a hill further back in the camp, he feels the disguised demon at his side shuffling from foot to foot.
“Sorry I could not do more, Master.”
Marcus just shakes his head at that. He doesn’t blame Erised. She was but one woman, a single saboteur in a camp of thousands. What she’d managed to do was already more than could be expected of her. Tainting their food, killing a some of their leaders, ruining their weapons. All of it was going above and beyond what Marcus had expected from her.
Especially when he knew Erised would have preferred they were fighting on the sides of the orcs to begin with. That she was standing beside him even now, when he was acting like the furthest thing from a Dark Lord… it spoke well of her convictions if nothing else.
Reaching out with his free hand, Marcus places a hand on Erised’s shoulder, giving her a fond smile and a shake of his head.
“I appreciate everything you managed to do, Eris. Thank you.”
He doesn’t care who hears him in this instant. There are paladins within earshot but let them see him giving gratitude to who they think is a Thief and slave. Let them recognize that their so-called Destined Hero sees value in what they consider disgusting and valueless.
… But at the same time, that’s just it. He’s not the Destined Hero. Not truly. Or at least, even if he is… Marcus is also the Dark Lord.
Letting out a slow breath, Marcus watches as the orcs clash with the paladin frontline yet again. This time, the Dark General Roka-Ra is not quite so cavalier. She’s more methodical as she lets out a roar and stops short so she can swing that massive slab of black metal she wields. It slices across the shields that the Paladins in front of her are holding up to create the Holy Barrier… and cuts right through them.
A cry of dismay comes up, as the frontline is pushed back. Seizing the opportunity for what it is, hundreds of orcs charge forward. Plenty of them die for it. Paladins wielding Holy Light smite the green-skinned creatures wherever they can. Marcus even catches sight of Sir Bartholomew leading by example, the old Paladin fighting with a handpicked squad of his best students. And then he loses sight of them, as the fortifications continue to slowly splinter apart and things descend into a full-blown melee.
It’s when Marcus realizes that the horde of orc warriors are beginning to encircle the camp that he knows he can no longer sit idly by. They’re not even doing it on purpose, or at least not doing it with any real tactics behind their actions. There’s just so many of the green-skinned orcs that they end up spilling over onto the sides of the Crusade’s fortifications more and more. Meanwhile, there simply aren’t enough Paladins to keep the camp from being surrounded. Gritting his teeth, the young half-orc hefts his halberd up.
“Angelina. Eris. With me.”
Neither of his party members hesitates, though a nearby Paladin does look at him, alarmed.
“Sir Hero? Have you detected the Dark Lord’s foul magics?”
Marcus resists the urge to snort derisively at that. Instead, he shakes his head before pinning the Paladin with his gaze.
“Relay a message to the Princess. I do not believe the Dark Lord is here. If they are, they are holding back just as I am… and from what I can see, this sitting and waiting favors them in the long run more than us. I’m joining the fight… and I suggest the Princess and her calvary do the same.”
The wide-eyed Paladin nods, and that’s all Marcus waits for before he begins moving forward. To their credit, Angelina and Erised are by his side the whole way, neither of them falling behind as he leads them to strike at the Orc Warband’s left flank. Knowing that Elsenthia’s calvary charge will come from the right, it’s all Marcus can do.
He’s tempted for a moment to go looking for Roka-Ra right off the bat, but he’s already lost track of her as things became a mass of pressing bodies. And besides, if he goes to the center, he’s allowing the orcs to encircle the far outnumbered paladins without even putting up a fight. And as strong as Marcus is, even he’s not sure he can win a battle surrounded by two thousand orc warriors.
Instead, Marcus and his party hit the left flank with all they’ve got, and a moment later a horn sounds out that he recognizes as the signal for Elsenthia’s calvary charge. She and the rest of the Crusade’s mounted combatants will be hitting the right flank now, striking at the Orc Warband where they’re least expecting it, hopefully.
Marcus can’t focus on that though. He can only focus on the orcs right in front of him. Activating both Dark Power and Dark Presence, Marcus watches the beady, sunken eyes of hundreds of green-skinned monsters snap to him. The Paladins on this side of the battle also look to him for a moment, before letting out a collective cheer as they begin to fight with renewed vigor against the enemies assailing them.
That cheer is drowned out a moment later by the angry roar that looses itself from hundreds of orc throats. With single-minded focus, every orc within range of his Dark Presence does their best to reach him. The horde of warriors were already lacking in any sort of martial discipline before, showing none of the crisp, clean professionalism of the Paladins and their Crusade. But now, these orcs in particular completely forget even the enemies they were just fighting.
It costs many of them their lives, as they turn their backs on their paladin opponents and immediately get cut down for their troubles. However, just as many didn’t have opponents to begin with, outnumbered as the Crusade is. Those rush towards Marcus with no one to block their path.
But that’s okay. Because Marcus is ready for them. As Angelina’s holy spells bolster his strength, the first orc reaches him and Marcus reacts with blinding swiftness. It’s his first time fighting orcs with his full regalia. His armor, enchanted by the Holy Pope herself, glows with protective light. Meanwhile, his halberd glows even brighter still as it flashes out and cuts the orc’s head from his shoulders.
From then on, everything shrinks down to a pinpoint. Marcus is no strategist. He’s certainly no leader. He was nothing more than a downtrodden orphan just as recently as two months ago. But what he is now is a fighter. A warrior in his own right. All he can do in this moment is fight. All he can do is kill. It’s what he’s good at now. The killing. And so he kills and kills, knowing that the consequences for failure are too high for him to do anything else.
He’s not sure how much time passes. It feels like hours, but it can’t possibly be that long. Even still, the fighting is fierce all around them. He keeps moving forward because to stand in one place is death. Not his death, for he’s not certain that even all two thousand of these orcs working together could possibly kill him. He feels almost invincible at that moment.
No, him staying in one place is the death of his allies. The brave men and women fighting alongside him, in front of him, behind him, and all over the camp. The Crusade is horrendously outnumbered, and every time he sees an armored body fall, their shimmering plate losing its shine as it strikes into the mud at their feet, Marcus knows they’ve just lost another step of ground in this fight.
And that’s without taking into account the shamans. They’re not as strong as Paladins, Sir Bartholomew was right about that. Not a single orc shaman is actually striding forth to do battle one on one or anything like that. Instead, they hang back, seemingly acting as support with spells that cause roots to burst out of the ground, or the ground itself to coalesce into boulders that smash into members of the Crusade from behind.
It can’t be allowed to continue; Marcus finally realizes after who knows how long. None of it can be allowed to continue. He has to end it and the only way he can think to do so is by tracking down the Dark General in this mess and defeating her. Knowing what he knows, that there is no Dark Lord backing up this insanity, Marcus can only hope that Roka-Ra’s defeat will force the Orc Warband into retreat.
Spinning around, Marcus looks to his party members. Both are looking dirtier and tired, but no worse for wear. First, he nods to Erised.
“Eris! I need you to put a stop to the shamans’ interference. Do you think you can do that?”
The disguised demon’s eyes narrow at that and her cat ears twitch atop her skull.
“… What will you be doing?”
Marcus grimaces but doesn’t dare lie to her, not now.
“I’m going to find the Dark General and end this.”
Looking to Angelina hopefully, Marcus gestures to the battle raging around them.
“Angelina, do you think you can locate her for me?”
“Yes, Sir Hero!”
When he turns back to Erised, it’s to find the diminutive disguised demon is right in front of him. Marcus blinks as she grabs him by the front of his armor and yanks him down to her level. She whispers in his ear for a moment, causing his eyes to widen at what she tells him. Then, she whispers one last thing, impossible for anyone else to hear over the din of battle.
“… Your will be done, my Lord.”
With that, Erised darts away, all but vanishing into the press of combat. Marcus barely has time to watch her leave, before Angelina pipes up.
“I’ve found her, Sir Hero! This way!”
What follows is a straight forward rush across the battlefield. Marcus doesn’t hesitate to follow Angelina’s lead, but she’s one of the least armored individuals on their side, so he spends just as much time getting between her and enraged orc warriors as he does bounding after her hurried steps. Luckily, Dark Presence keeps most of the enemies focused entirely on him. Angelina would otherwise be mince meat without it, as she was a prime target for their violence.
He's not sure how many more orcs he kills before they reach their destination. Dozens? Hundreds? The battlefield is becoming packed with bodies. It’s hard to take a step without running into one. Most are orcs, thankfully… but plenty are paladins as well. At one point, Marcus damn near trips over a particular plated form and finds himself stopping for a moment to stare down into the open, glazed eyes of one Paladin Bartholomew. The veteran is dead, blood trickling from his mouth… and pouring from the wound that punctured his plate armor and tore out a good chunk of his chest.
Feeling a pang that he can’t quite place, Marcus reaches down and closes Bartholomew’s eyes, one small show of respect to a Paladin who even now Marcus had conflicting feelings over. But he doesn’t have time to work his way through those feelings. He doesn’t have time for anything but ending this conflict.
“Sir Hero! Right ahead!”
Straightening up, Marcus bounds forward… and then goes wide-eyed as he sees what Angelina sees. His Holy Priestess has indeed led him to the Dark General Roka-Ra… as well as the Crown Princess Elsenthia. The two of them arrive just in time to see the Crown Princess get dismounted. Her warhorse had clearly served her well, painted in so much orc blood that it’s obvious Elsenthia had acquitted herself admirably in battle by anyone’s estimation.
But all Marcus sees is red as Roka-Ra cuts the warhorse’s limbs out from under it with her massive sword, sending the Princess sprawling into the mud in an undignified tumble. Before Elsenthia can even get to her feet, Roka-Ra is looming over her, easily twice the half-elf Princess’ size. There’s a pause, as the two exchange words. He’s not going to get another chance though, he’s sure of it.
Remembering what Erised whispered to him, Marcus raises his voice, shouting loudly to be heard over the sounds of battle all around them.
“GENERAL ROKA-RA! I CHALLENGE YOU TO TAH-MAK-AH! WINNER TAKES ALL!”
He’s not expecting his words to carry quite like they do. He’s spoken them just as Erised told them to, but it’s still strange how almost immediately a silence falls over the battlefield. Every eye, not just the Dark General’s, snaps to him as he stands there with his glowing halberd high in the air, Angelina by his side.
For a long moment, Roka-Ra stands still. The Dark General looks almost frozen in place. Then, she turns away from Princess Elsenthia. Wordlessly, she lifts her sword and takes a step towards him. And then another. And then she’s running, sprinting across the space between them as she rapidly closes the distance and charges him down.
He doesn’t care that she didn’t technically accept his challenge verbally. In the end, his only concern was keeping her from killing Elsenthia. Pushing Angelina away from him, Marcus just barely manages to get into a stance before the Dark General is upon him and they clash. Almost immediately, he can feel from her first blow that she’s not like the other orcs he’s fought.
Strangely, that makes him happy. An almost foreign feeling of satisfaction fills him as they clash and then come apart, facing off against one another. He would hate for this to be easy, even if he’s not entirely sure why…
-x-X-x-
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