Deoria: Stand against the Darkness/The last battle of the dwarves

Bang. Bang. The sound of metal colliding with metal was the only thing that ripped through the silence. It was the noise of the iron fists of a dark giant that kept impacting the heavy main gate of Irik’han. The dwarven fortress had been under siege for days, pushed back beyond their heavy walls. The situation was dire. Few warriors were left and outside the walls was a whole army of darklings, waiting to tear apart the last resort the dwarves still had.

“The gate can't stand it forever, Dawrim.”, spoke Thumgar, the dwarven primus pilus. Dawrim, dwarven emperor by Pafnuzius' will, nodded. “Yes. They'll break through eventually. This might be the last day of the dwarves. But in Paffnuzius name, we will make it an end to remember.” The centurion nodded and sighed. “I just hope the men will show the same attitude. The first centuria will go down fighting, but there are many young dwarves among the others, inexperienced and scared.” “They will fight Thumgar. They are dwarves, after all.” After Dawrim spoke those words, silence settled again between the two. Many dwarves' eyes still stared at the gate, expecting it to burst any second. It wasn't brittle yet, and would surely take at least one more hour. Still, time was becoming immeasurable in the current situation.

The primus pilus and the emperor were not close to the gate. They were above it. In a lookout made of a stone that was see-through from one way, while seeming solid from the other.  Dawrim´s eyes roamed the scene, looking at the thousands of darklings, at the hills in the distance and the setting sun, coating everything into it´s red light. The clouds on the sky were dark, rain was coming, it would start soon.

The darklings outside stared at the barren stone of the walls. A colossal wall, only interrupted by the large metal gate. In front of it, their dark giant. A huge humanoid creature, three and a half men tall. It's bald, round head had no nose, just slits for eyes and a large mouth, two tusks poking out of it. The giant had the grey skin that all darklings sported. It was very similar to them in general, only lacking the large, pointy ears and nostrils. However, its big hands were covered in metal, creating dangerous weapons, devastating whatever they were swung at.

The other darklings were of various kinds. There were darkling swarmers, about half as tall as man and usually not armored. Armed with dirks, daggers or short swords, they were not skilled fighters, but their ruthlessness, disregard for their own life and amount were what made them dangerous. Their grey, rag-covered statures were thin, only skin and bones.

Fewer, yet still quite the amount, were the darkling brawlers. They were man sized hunks of muscle, flesh and aggression. They were usually found wearing cuirass and greaves in the red of the darklings standards. Their fearsome faces are covered by a sallet of the same color, on which higher rank brawlers have a visor. They use large cleaving swords, oftenly wavy or spikey in their form. They are crude weapons, less meant for cutting than for hacking. The wounds they reap are oftenly deadly, if not directly, then through the incredibly cruel injuries their shape leaves.

Then, there were the darkling crushers. They were fewer, a hundreth of the amount brawlers. Larger than those, these creatures could stand up to two men tall. Covered in complete armor with a frogmouth helmet, they are fearsome beings. Wielding hammers and axes that men could barely lift and wreaking havoc to those that they met.

Lastly, the darkling beasts. They are monsters on all fours. They could be compared to boars, their skin grey, their tusks large. They have muscular bodies and their skin is thick. The beasts usually are not armored and sport a mohawk of hair on their heads, running down their back to the tail. They are the hardest to kill and can devastate whole rows of soldiers, relentlessly charging through. Their number is few in every darkling army, as they are rare in the darklings' home and hard to tame.

Bang. Bang. Again and again, the dark giants' fists slammed against the door. It would not last much longer. The time was running thin and those within the walls knew well. The women and children were hidden in the caverns, while every last man that could fight was armored and armed, waiting for the inevitable. The expression differed. Some grim, some scared. Some had made their peace with it, some were eager to make history happen. But in none of their eyes was the hope of victory. It would be but the desperate fight of a cornered animal, lashing out at its hunters.

Dawrim looked down, at the couple of hundred men gathered and with a grim expression, he stomped on the ground, disrupting the nigh silence that had reigned. “Sons of Paffnuzius! I must not sugarcoat our situation. Out there stands an army, tenfold our strength. We are trapped, cornered in the walls we sought to protect us. This is the last battle we will ever fight.” His voice boomed through the halls, the dwarves looking at him with the same expressions that had previously watched the doors. “But by Paffnuzius, we will not go down easily. We are dwarves! Our ancestors watch us with tension, they expect us to match their glory! If this is dwarfkinds end, we will make it one to be remembered! Even in centuries, all over the world, they will remember our names, whisper them in awe as they tell the tale of this great battle! Of our unbending resistance!”

The emperor was halfway through his speech, the expressions changing more and more to ones of determination. Some started to shout in agreement at his statements. But then, he was interrupted by a peculiar sound. One that did not fit the scenery whatsoever. It sounded like the howl of the wolf. First one, then another and another. “Impossible…”, Dawrim muttered and rushed towards the lookout, his eyes bolting towards the hills.

On the hill, first, a single creature was seen. It was a horse and a rider on it, clad in black armor. A spear in hand, a shield in the other, the person raised their weapon and shouted. “Ithilest, advance!”, a voice boomed over the plains. Shortly after, the stomping of feet could be heard. On the hills, first on, then two, lastly three more silhouettes appeared, each holding a horn, the ends shaped like a wolf's head. Once more, the howl of wolves was heard, now becoming clear it was the horns that produced them.

Almost perfectly timed, the clouds burst. Rain started pouring in masses, thunder booming as lightning struck the sky. And then, they came. Black armored knights in platoons started to cross the hills and gather atop, carrying a wolf banner with them. It was hundreds in sight and who knew how many behind the hills still. They came to a halt with still distance to the darklings' siege and army, gathering, grouping, waiting.

Movement came to the darklings' rows. Their commander, a crusher wearing no helmet, his skin having a yellowish hue to it, waved. His voice was loud enough to be heard by all the darklings, even the dwarves in their fortress could understand what he said.

“Split up! Keep this filth of the giant and get rid of the shortlings once the gate falls. Don't let them break your rows or I'll feed you to the beasts!”

With a shift, quickly defense rows were built, using whatever polearms were available to make a rushing attacker's life hell. The darklings did not advance, it was in their best interest to stall the battle. It was clear, their main objective was to breach the dwarven fortress, no matter the cost.  

The knights still stood, until the dark rider raised their spear once more. “For glory and death!”, the voice boomed once more, lightning striking the sky at the same time. And the knights repeated the shout, starting their pace forward, steadily advancing, their rows flawless and closed. The stomping of their heavily armored feet on the ground was almost drowning out the sound of the dark giant hitting the damaged gate.

The wolven commander spoke again, shouting but the word “Ithlain!” But the order was clear. From behind the hills, less armored men started to swarm forward. Their front row carrying what looked like metal plates. Quickly, they were placed onto the ground and like a single man, a mechanism in them was activated, making them stand by themselves as metal shield wall. Behind it, archers started to gather, protected against counterfire from the lower positioned enemies. The knights advance continued through all of this, slowly but surely making their way towards the darklings defense.

“Why would the Ithilien wolves help us Dawrim?”, Thumgar asked, concern clear in his voice. “They aren't exactly known for their generosity…” The primus pilus watched his friend and emperor pace up and down the lookout. “I don't know Thumgar, I really don't. It won't be out of kind spirit, surely, they must have an ulterior motive. But as long as it means our kind lives to see another day, it's an improvement.”

Quickly, the dwarf made it back to his men. “If the gate falls, hold your lines! Do not let them pass you, they cannot reach the women and children under any circumstances! Stall them for as long as you can, become the heroes our ancestors want us to be!” The emperor had hope in his voice, mixed with the usual determination. THat sparked the flame of hope in his men, as chanting started to rise in their rows. Old, dwarven battle songs, speaking of death, honor and history.

Dawrim however quickly returned to the lookout. He had to see how the fight went. He wanted to see the wolves fight. It wasn't often that one could watch the Ithilest fight without paying with their own life.

As the knight's slow approach was soon to meet the lines of the darklings, the archers were set up, starting to pull back their strings and aiming for the mass of foes. However, the commander stopped them quickly, shouting out “Aim for the giant! Bring it down!” Quickly, the angle was adjusted, aiming for the faraway gate of the fortress and the beast that bashed it in.

Once more, the dark sky was lit up with thunder, as the knights started to charge the last part of their way. Armed with swords and shields, they soon crashed into the line of darklings and the battle ensued.

The archers shot the first wave of arrows, many hitting their target, as the giant grumbled in pain. Still, he did not slow down, kept beating the gate, over and over as the archers drew their next arrows.

The rows of the darkling swarmers were quickly broken, their unarmored, small frames unable to withstand the powerful charge of the knights. Their advance however soon slowed, as they met the second row, brawlers standing there, ready to fight off their enemies. The sound of battle, weapons hitting armor and shields, screams of pain and death, war cries, soon filled the area.

When the second volley of arrows hit the giant, he groaned once more, his pace slowing, but not stopping. But it became apparent that another volley would do the trick and most likely end this creature for good.

The battle stalled out, the knights and brawlers seemingly at level. On both sides, lives were taken and lost equally, no side able to push further than the other pushed back. It stayed like that, the sides hacking and slashing at each other, killing as many as they could to gain the lead.

The sound of bows going off filled the air a third time, a sharp howl heard from the giant. It stumbled, landing one last punch, before collapsing against the gate… And with that gave it the final blow. Both, monster and gate fell. Silence overcame the battlefield, as every party involved stared at the gate for a moment, the sudden shift in events stunning them all.

The dwarves inside the fortress of course saw none of what was happening outside, except for those few entrusted ones that stood on the lookout with the emperor. For a moment, when the giant struggled, Dawrim had hope. If the beast fell without breaching the gate, the dwarves were safe. No matter the damage, the darklings had no means to get past that heavy iron.

This hope was seen by a spark in his eyes and a sharp breath taken beneath the well maintained blonde beard, when the dark giant was in his death struggles. But it soon faded, as the gate fell with its assaulter. The noises were indescribably loud as the huge mass of metal and flesh crashed onto the door. Luckily, the dwarves stood far enough off not to be crushed, expecting the gate to collapse in such a way from the attacks earlier.

The emperor and his primus pilus rushed towards the balcony that led to the lower areas, so that they could see their men, stunned, uncertain how to react. “Fend them off! Do not let them pass!”, Paffnuzius chosen bellowed, followed by a simple warcry. “Death!” The dwarves repeated after him, bracing for the soon approaching force of the darklings.

The first line of defense would be the first centuria, which exceeded defending choke points, much to the dwarves' luck. The first row were shieldbearers, holding large, scutum-like shields and spears. They formed a wall, their stand steady and strong.

They didn't have to wait for long, as soon, swarmers burst through the open gate and did what their name suggested. They swarmed in, meeting a defensive line. They pushed against them, trying their hardest to penetrate the strong dwarven row. From behind, more swarmers came by the second, each wave pressing the last against the shields stronger. Dwarven spears found their victims again and again, but what broke the swarmers neck more than that was their own kind crushing them between shield and the next wave. Still, with the rising amount of force onto the shields, the dwarves would not be able to hold long, getting pushed back slightly already.

That was, when the second row of the centuria sprung into action. With powerful leaps, lightly armored dwarves jumped over their shieldwall, wielding two axes each. They landed within the mass of swarmers, crushing those that had taken the spot they now did. Quickly, they started to massacre through the helpless darklings.

The tide of swarmers soon thinned out, but the metallic stomping of armored feet on stone was heard as brawlers appeared. And tall from within their lines stood two crushers, wielding heavy hammers. The axe-swinging dwarves quickly fought their way back behind allied lines, as it was a lot harder to kill these foes.

Outside the fortress, the battle soon picked up again, going back to its stall. It did however not keep up for long. Ferocious howling was added as a new sound to the scenery and before long, suddenly, knights were seen flying through the air, tossed aside with great force. “Beasts!”, was the shouting between the knights. Two darkling beasts had torn up their rows, now turning around for another charge.

On the hill, once more the wolf horns were heard. “Ithilguen!”, the voice of the black knight commander bellowed, before noise like thunder echoed from behind the hills. The commander's horse reared once, before it started to gallop. Then, shortly behind their leader, more horses showed up. countless of them passed the hill, bolting towards the enemies lines and their slaughtered allies.

The commander however soon split, heading directly for one of the beasts. While the archers on the hill aimed for the second, the horses dashed forward, directly towards the brawlers and swarmers fighting the knights. Spears were readied, the impact would tear apart anybody that had the misfortune of getting in the way. The knights loosened their formation and the horses skillfully, yet without losing speed maneuvered through, not hitting a single ally in their way. It was a well practiced, well executed maneuver. When the riders hit the enemy, it was the darklings turn to be sent flying from the sheer force. A large tear was made into the darklings' rows, but once the horses stood, the crushers from further behind started to partake in the battle. Once more, it seemed to stall.

While the archers were struggling to take down the beast although their aim was true, the commander still rode towards the second, heading directly for it. With a loud shout, the wolven rider gained the creature's attention. With a snort, it adjusted its path, heading directly for the rider that approached it. The commander however kept galloping towards it, reading their spear. Shortly before they hit it, they arched backwards and threw it, the speeding projectile cutting through the air and finding its way into the beast's head. It fell over dead, but with the momentum still going, it rolled and slid over the floor. The horse was too fast to adjust and tripped over the corpse, crashing forward, its rider falling off and onto the floor with a powerful impact. For a moment, there was no movement, before the rider arose shakily. Slowly staggering over to the horse, it was found to be dead, the neck broken through the fall. The rider took off the dark helmet and revealed their face to the cold rain. Beneath was a woman with golden hair and ivory skin. The lips were red, partially from blood, as one of them had burst open from the fall. Her rest was not for long, however. “Manling! Your life ends here! Without you, your men will falter!” The leader of the darklings, the yellow skinned crusher, was standing ahead, the axe on his shoulder. The commander got into a defensive stance with her shield and drew a golden and black sword. As the only reply, she spit out some blood and started to slowly approach her foe.

So far, the dwarves had been able to hold off their enemy quite well. While they had lost ground and men, the enemy force had suffered far greater loss and the ground gained by them was just nearly enough to almost cross the entryway of the fortress. It was a slow, draining battle and fate seemed to turn on the bearded warriors more and more. They were growing tired, thinning out.

To seal their fate, the two crushers that had entered, but not yet partaken in the fight, were now approaching the line of the dwarves. That did not go unnoticed by the ones that had watched from above. “Thumgar! The crushers!”, Dawrim exclaimed towards his friend, who nodded. “I see them. They'll tear through the men like an Aknarian Clawmouth through livestock.”, the primus pilus replied. “It's time, old friend. Today, we go down in history. One way or another.” The emperor was calm, collected. It calmed Thumgar. That was just how Dawrim had always been. And they had yet a battle to lose. If it was this one, so be it. “I´ll take one, you take the other. We can´t let them through to our men.”, the centurion stated. Thumgar drew his weapon, an ornate sword, that spotted an axe´s head on the tip of its edge. It was a large weapon, wielded with two hands by the strong dwarf. A deadly tool in the right hands. And Thumgar´s hands sure were the right ones. Then, he looked at the emperor. Dawrim too had his weapon ready, a large warhammer. With a nod, both took a few steps back. “To death.”, Thumgar said. “To history.”, his friend replied. Then, they ran towards the edge of the balcony and lept. Dawrim landed close to his target, quickly swinging his hammer around him to clear an area for himself. Then, he shouted at the crusher. “Hey, mudbrain! Come and face me, if you dare! Or is there no guts beneath that metal?” The crusher slowly turned, roaring. “This one's mine.” A claim the other darklings knew better than to interfere with.

The darkling slowly approached her, his axe now at the ready. The opponents slowly circled each other, before with a loud yell, the axe was swung, a powerful, vertical strike that would tear through armor and shield alike. Quickly, the commander used her shield not to block, but to push aside the arms of the darkling, making his strike whiff. With the other hand, she struck at the darklings face, delivering a punch to his face with her armored gauntlet. The darkling stumbled back and roared. Of course, that was nothing that would impair the vicious creature.

Another quick swing, horizontally this time was soon cutting the air on the way towards the commander. She stepped back as quickly as she could with her armor, being in time to avoid the strike and slashing her sword at her opponent, delivering a cut to his left forearm. Another roar was heard, as he spun quickly and brought the flat side of his axe against her body. Unable to dodge or react quickly enough, she was struck and thrown through the air, landing on the floor a little further away.

She did not get up immediately. Everything was spinning, she was visibly dazed and the prior fall from the horse in addition to this impact had left their marks. Coughing up blood, she slowly rose, getting back into her stance to fight her opponent again.

The darkling laughed. “I´ll enjoy taking every last bit of life from you. First you, then your men.” He once more swung his axe, the dizzy commander sloppily raising her shield. But the force was too big, the large weapon cleaved into the shield, into her arm, making her wince in pain, before bringing her shoulder forward and bashing the darkling away. The shield was rendered useless now and so was her arm, at least for the time being. With a grunt, she tossed her shield away, now left with only her blade in her hand.

With a loud, booming noise, the crusher's hammer hit the floor. Dawrim had been able to dodge that strike, despite his thickset body he was surprisingly mobile, even with the blue and golden, ornamented armor of the emperor. In return, Paffnuzius’ chosen swung his own heavy weapon to meet the crusher's side, leaving a serious dent in the large darklings armor.

The monster of a darkling drew back its weapon and prepared to swing another time. In a long, horizontal attack,  Dawrim was unable to go below or behind to avoid the attack. The swing hit quite a lot of darklings as well, cleaving a devastating line into their rows. The dwarven emperor thought quickly, pushing his hammer to the ground and propelling himself into the air high, flying over the crushers head, not without taking the momentum of the flight to deliver a serious blow to the helmet, leaving it dented as well.

Landing behind the crusher, Dawrim quickly spun on the spot, quickly striking at the armored brute's knee from behind. It was forced to bend in, getting on its knees. Another swing to the crusher's head finished the foe, as the armored corpse fell forward lifelessly, once more crushing a bunch of its own kin.

With haste, Dawrim looked for his friend, having no trouble spotting the second crusher. The darkling stood twice as tall as the others and was therefore easily found. And not a second too late. Dawrim was just in time to see the crusher swing his hammer, sending a bunch of darklings flying. And, besides them, Thumgar, who had been hit by the swing. Sent off, the dwarf hit a wall, where then, his body collapsed to the floor movelessly. “NO!”, Dawrim shouted, disbelief and shock clear in his voice. The crusher then turned, laughing in a deep, dark tone, before approaching the emperor himself.

Another powerful swing was taken at the commander. She was about to react to it, when the yellow skinned darkling suddenly stopped it, taking the momentum to instead use his weapons shaft to find her face. She had been too dazed to realize his feint. The forceful impact, once more to her head, sent her to the floor, rolling for a moment, before laying on her back. She tried to get up, but failed. Her consciousness started to slip, as her eyes slowly started to close.

“Mivareth…” A familiar voice seemed to call her. “Come, come with us. We´ll be together again…” She recognized where she was. It was the home of her childhood. The voice belonged to her mother, who stood there in her young beauty, extending a hand towards her daughter and seeming expecting, encouraging. “It´ll be like when you were young. Come, come with me…” The offer was tempting. Already about to grab her mother's hand, she remembered what had been happening. Where she actually was. And what it was her mother was offering. Death.

“No!”, she shouted as her eyes flew open. Just in time to see the darkling raise his axe right above her head, about to take it off her shoulders. Mivareth rolled to the side, avoiding the axe that got stuck in the ground through the sheer force of the swing. Getting to her feet shakily, she made sure she still had her sword. Then, she laid her eyes on her foe once more, who had managed to rip free his weapon. “You are getting on my nerves. Die already.”, the darkling spat out.

Charging at her, he swung his axe in a devastating attack, coming from the side. However, the knight had recollected herself a little and was not dazed enough to just take the hit anymore. Ducking low while dashing forward, she managed to dodge, while initiating a twirl. Seemingly spinning around him, she ended up behind her opponent, as he stumbled. Then, as he fell, his head fell off his shoulders, the decapitated corpse and its lost part falling to different sides.

Mivareth was panting, her otherwise flawless skin had a laceration near her lip and she didn't even know nor want to think about what less obvious injuries she had suffered. She was still dizzy and thoroughly exhausted. Still, she remembered she was in battle, even if the enemy commander had fallen. Therefore, she took a look around.

The crusher raised his hammer, still bathing in the victory over Thumgar. Dawrim was still in shock, struggling to grasp what had happened. But he had little time to grieve, as the huge opponent was looking to kill another dwarf.

Focussing on the task at hand, Dawrim couldn't exactly hold back the rage that was starting to fill him. Readying his hammer himself, he started to approach the crusher, breaking into a sprint. When the crusher raised his hammer to bring the weapon down straight on the dwarf, he kept running, closing the distance and getting between the crushers legs before the hammer would strike him. With the momentum still on his side, Dawrim started to spin, his hammer swinging around as he hit the legs of the armored darkling over and over,demolishing the armor and the flesh below. The darkling as a result broke to his knees before the emperor. With a vertical strike to the head, the angered dwarf removed any trace of a head that had ever been atop the armor, crushing it violently.

When the darklings noticed their strongest allies having fallen, they were struck with fear.  First few, then more and more started to run, leaving the fortress, trampling those of them that fell behind to death. Dawrim was however not done with them. “Don't let them escape! Charge!”, he shouted. His men were gripped with the same angry dedication, yelling “Death!”, before starting to charge out of the fortress, after the darklings.

Mivareth´s eyes were struggling to focus, she had taken quite the strong couple of hits to the head. Still, she was able to make out that the sun was rising and the storm had stopped. The darklings were being pushed back by her knights, the second beast had fallen.

Suddenly, from the other side of the area, she heard voices, shouting and noises of combat. Turning her head, she saw dwarves spilling out of the broken fortress gate. They were chasing darklings and slaughtering right through their lines. The darklings were fleeing, but the dwarves easily kept up with them.

Due to that, the darklings were now stuck between two forces they had already been losing to. And without a commander to guide them, they had nothing to oppose the foe. They were just cut down like trees. In despair they tried to fight, but it was futile. It wouldn't take long for the last of them to be slain.

Content with what she was seeing, Mivareth did not engage in further battle. She sat down at the corpse of her horse, resting against it, stroking through its hair. Like that, she would wait for the fight to end. And hopefully regather some strength.

Dawrim had not followed his men outside the fortress. Instead, he had rushed over to the body of Thumgar, laying by the wall. Driven by hope, he grabbed his friend, gently shaking him. “Thumgar. Thumgar wake up, we´re winning.”, he whispered. “Thumgar!” The lack of reaction drove tears to the emperor's eyes. “You can't do that! We´ve always been together, had each others back! Remember, when we were little? When we practiced to fight? When you taught me how to control the momentum?” The tears were running down his face by now, but Dawrim wasn't ashamed. He could not have cared less, as the grief he felt for his lifelong friend was more than overwhelming.

“You´re a hero, Thumgar. You always were. And I promise, nobody will forget your name. It will be said with the greatest awe and respect, as the people tell stories about you…” With that, he stood up. On the floor, he saw Thumgar´s weapon, the axeblade. taking it, he placed it into his friend's hand, then resting both hands on his chest.

When that had been done, Dawrim turned around. He would have a funeral for his friend, of course, but now wasn´t the time. As much as he was a friend and dwarf, he was also the emperor, who had to care for the aftermath of this battle. Therefore, he wiped away his tears and slowly started to walk outside.