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As the sun rises over Trolls Bane a lonely orc sits on a mountain ledge with his orc helmet resting in his lap. His black and tired eyes drifts slowly over the waking city in the distance, a slight smile grows on his lips.

The thundering sound of artillery shakes the ground, humans scurry around trying desperately to find cover. Small pebbles rattles against his shield and he feels the heat from the fiery boulder that just slammed into the barricades in-front of him. Stand yuu graound, bruddas! he yells over the noise as a boulder strikes the north gate tower, large chunks of the structure rains down on them setting the gate ablaze. Get water! a scream that drowns in another strike from the Salkamarian artillery, Jag whimpers and crawls under a cart as the flames licks his armor... or was that Murgo..? nevertheless the artillery stopped after what felt like an eternity only to be replaced by the groan and moans of the wounded and dying. Ignoring the wounded and dying Turga stands up and lowers his shield, looking over his shoulder he grins broadly at the Krull Karfang, their chief at the time, and thumps his chest with his fist. Or maybe it was Rugh'Toh who was there? possibly the Warlord..

A steady drumbeat can be heard in the distance The Salkamarian army is approaching! a voice cries sending, what is left of, the defending force of Trolls Bane rushing out of what is left of the north gate. Turga draws his maces and runs, or rather jogs, after them, stumbling and rolling trough the debris he finally makes it outside. As he jogs trough the smoke the drumbeat increases in volume and he hears muffled orders being barked far ahead. Clearing the smoke he sees the makeshift barricades, men, women, elfs, a few orcs and what looks like a tree trunk of a man standing there with their weapons drawn.

The Salkamarian Army approaches on a line, the faces of the Salkamarian soldiers have a look of determination, he cannot see fear in their eyes. The drumming grows louder and louder, some mages appear at the back of the formation and Turga grits his teeth stoopid magie.. he mumbles tightening the grip on his maces.All of a sudden several humans break away from the barricades charging at the advancing Salkamarians, instinctively Turga follows them. The rest of the orcs rushes past him and he watches with sadistic glee as Jag and Murgo ram their way trough the Salkamarian lines sending soldiers flying in each direction.

When he finally reaches the battlefield several humans have run past him, some charging and some retreating with fallen comrades in their arms. Quickly he tosses one mace away and draws his round metal shield, a salkamarian soldier rushes towards him with a war cry. An underhanded blow from his mace sends him flying back. Several soldiers rush towards him with raised swords, using his shield as a ram he shoves two of them back and cracks one of them over the head with his mace. His head is jerked forward and his vision explodes in white before turning dark, spinning around he lashes out blindly. He hits someone and feels warm blood splattering over his face, a heavy blow strikes him across the chin sending him stumbling to the ground. The roar of the battle echoes in his ears as he rolls over on his back, he feels the blood trickling down his chin and his vision slowly returns.

All around him there are dead and dying soldiers mixed with rebells, the battle still rages on, but more and more rebels come stumbling past him. Several of them are cut down from behind by Salkamarian arrows, Turga sits up with a painfull snarl, the world is spinning, blurry and painfully real. He has barely gotten to his feet before a spear skids of his full plate armor, before he can even raise his shield a club bashes him over the nose nearly blinding him. His memory is blurry after that... a wide eyed soldier stares at him, his face is crushed by a mace, another soldier has his face nearly split in half with the edge of a metal shield... a crowd of soldiers huddled together in the middle, determination on their faces as they begin to advance, Murgo limps past him covered in blood, or was that Jag?

Sighing deeply Turga looks down at his scarred hands then back to Trolls Bane where small columns of smoke trail towards the sky. The lively smell of freshly baked bread and pots filled with stew reaches his nostrils. Slowly he puts his orc helmet on, tightens the strap under his chin then stands up slowly before heading down the mountain towards Trolls Bane.

After crossing the north bridge Turga sits down and leans up against the wall, his eyes grows distant as they dart back and forth as if reading something.

Retreaaaaat! To the barricaaaades! a mans voice screams franticly and all but some run back to the relative safety of the barricades. Turga stumbles towards the barricades with blood seeping from lacerations on his jaw and nose, someone grabs him by the arm and drags him behind the barricades leaning his back against it. To drowsy to protest he can only growl confused as he is dragged by the arms, a green, warm light shoots from the sky and covers his body. Moments later he feels revitalized and the wounds on his face have disappeared then someone quickly hands him a war hammer Take thes! ya otta bash their breins in with tha' one! he says with a confident grin.

Gripping the war hammer tightly he gets to his feet with a growl, all around him rebels stand with long swords and maces at the ready. Soon a scream rises from the crowd and many bang their weapon against the barricades, some of the orcs roar and scream incoherently with madness shining in their eyes as they stare at something behind him. Turga turns around blinking confused he watches as what remains of the Salkamarian army retreating, only to be replaced by an even larger army.

The war drums plays a drum roll then as it ends the Salkamarians charge with fierce screams, a few arrows fly past him from behind not doing much to halt the charge. Several bottles of Gynk Fire fly towards the charging army followed by fire balls and bolts of lightning, several soldiers fall then they reach the barricades. Turga swings the war hammer like mad landing blow after blow on the well armored soldiers leaping and bounding over the barricades, an orc jumps on top of the barricades swinging his morningstars in wide arches. Before Turga can react the orcs morningstars become entangled in the many halberds and spears being jabbed at him, he struggles for several seconds before being yanked down in the large mass of soldiers.

Bring out the reserves! someone screams over he noise of the battle, what seems like hundreds of rebels pour out of the ruined gate. Turga roars in pain as a sword penetrates his armor sending him stumbling back for a moment, he stares madly at the ocean of faces and weapons. Something strikes him across the chest knocking the air out of him and he falls to his knees, he sees a blood stained mace flying towards his face. His vision explodes in white yet again and he feels himself slumping backwards.

Gasping for air he sits up as a green light shoots from the sky yet again, he is inside the city gates leaned up against the wall. His head hurts like mad and a young man with blood stains on his face smiles bleakly at him We won..we drove them back, how do you feel? Turga glares at him then winces with a painful grin Meh 'ead 'urts... Turga says with a low growl closing his eyes tightly yes, quite normal after what you went trough, it should go away shortly the young man replies with a soft smile. Turga slowly gets to his feet then limps out of the gates.


Inhaling deeply he stares at the sky, saying a quick prayer of thanks to the Father before walking trough the north gates leading into Trolls Bane.