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I rather expect the goblin leader to kick ze bucket at this point.

That or get massacred by the next dwarf he faces because he doesn't have a sword arm anymore.

HE STILL HAS THE DAGGER ARM!

The dagger is mightier than the.... wait... that isn't right.....

   The weapons collided mid air.  The two fighters both recoiled a step, the goblin laughing and the dwarf having a slight expression of fear.  This goblin was going to be an actual battle, and he was going to have to actually fight to win.

   Amud kicked him in the chest, making him fall down into the blood, covering him with a new coat as if it was paint.  Amud stabbed at him, but misjudged where Karakzon fell.  Karakzon stood once more, blocking Amud’s next swing and then counter attacking to his left thigh.

   Karakzon’s axe was fast but Amud’s sword could only be faster, being perfectly aerodynamic it traveled to block just in time, deflecting Karakzon’s blow down into the body of a dead dwarf, a fellow warrior at arms.

   Karakzon sent an uppercut, the only feasible move in his current position.  He was lucky- he gave Amud a nice cut along his right thigh, the commander’s blood joining the pool of the dead drop by drop.

   The goblin screeched, and then laughed at the pain, as if it was really not there.  Karakzon couldn’t help but take a step back after managing to find his way up.  The cut was deep, and even though it was hard to tell because everything was red, there was a steady stream of blood coming from it, constantly pouring out the life of the goblin.

   Amud landed the next blow at the dwarf’s ankle, then blocked an attack to his own thigh, and missed another blow to the right arm.  He jumped back five feet onto a small pile of dead goblins despite the leg wound, and ran his hand along the blade to clean it, blood drooling from it.  He smiled at the dwarf as the defender limped over to the body pile, cutting down the forest of bodies to get to the goblin.

   The goblin backed up, then jumping over the dwarf struck him from the back, sliding the blade in between the warrior’s ribcage.  Luckily for the dwarf, no organs were hit.  Unluckily, blood drained and joined the pool.

   But before the goblin could pull his sword out, the dwarf turned around, the blade sticking out of him like a spike, pulling it out of the goblin’s hand.  The goblin could only give off a look of surprise before having his right arm totally severed from his body in one swing.

   The goblin went to his knees, clutching the stump of his right arm.  The defender walked up, raising his axe to lop off the commander’s head.  “In the name of Goldenhold and all that is holy, I kill you, scourge of the land.  You fight well, but I fight better.”  He started to bring the axe down to the goblin’s neck...  The goblin lowered his left hand....

   The dagger in Karakzon’s heart made him fall instantly, the handle blade of the sword barely sticking above the pool of blood.  Amud brought himself to his feet, grabbed the hilt of the sword, and tore it free of the drowning body.

“I think doing things in the name of Armok works better, dwarf.  I learned that a thousand years ago.”

He dragged himself back to his army, sneering.  “WHAT ARE YOU RASCALS WAITING FOR!  THIS is WAR!”

They charged the gate, a few going back to the humans with plans....

I worry about you.

DAMMIT! Appologies.

   They had lost that defensive position.  Many had died on both sides, the never ending goblin horde pouring up the body ramps.  The Captain of the Guard had survived, and even had to order a “regrouping” which was just a code word for “Retreat”.  The survivors had faces that were exhausted, most having been awake for the previous hour of chaos.  They had sprinted behind the next gate, which was made of a foot of adamantine.

   It was the second defense between the remaining troops and the horde of goblins, and the human army who had broke through. 

   The battlements were torn, pillars of gold collapsed, bringing down bits and pieces of the roof on top of the fighters.  Bodies were pilled into ramps, the gate was totally wrecked, goblins pouring through.  Fires burned, setting mounds of corpses on fire, the bodies burning and giving off a stink so wretched that even a goblin had to curl their nose.  The area was filled with ichor from trolls, blood from goblins, and guts of dwarves into a syncretic liquid that was a foot deep.  If someone had taken a pace in there, they might have stepped onto a sword or dagger that had gone flying during the fight, fall into the blood, and drown.
   
   Many bodies were filled with bolts or arrows, some even with spears that had been thrown out of desperation.  All were losing shape in the fire though, the wooden shafts burning and leaving only the heads inside the corpses they were stabbed into.  All of this was leading to the hallway that the dwarvern guard was hiding behind.  The gate was the second line of protection for them.

   The first was Karakzon.  Everything on him was stained red, including his normally pale skin.  The armor shown in the light, drops of blood from the armor gleaming in the torchlight or the fires from the combat, showing off a brilliant hue as they fell into the pool, only making it deeper.

Drop by Drop.

   He heard screams to charge once again.  Once again, they would attempt to take him down.  This was their fifth time attacking him, each one incurring more losses than the last.  But besides the brief rests between the fights, they still seemed never ending.

   He must have misheard.  Only one goblin walked forward and into the battle.  Blood was on him, falling down.

Drop by Drop.

“I am Amud Ikled!  I will spill your blood for Armok!  You have fought well, but I will fight better!”  The goblin laughed, his voice echoing through the halls.

Karakzon looked around, expecting a trap.  But there was none.  This goblin was honest, and on his own.  “So your done hiding behind your troops like a coward, and want to face me like a man?”

The goblin only sneered at him.  “Are the dwarves done hiding in their petty mountains to avoid facing the judgement of the gods?”

“I’m not hiding.”
“Neither am I.”

And they charged at eachother, red blades gleaming in the air as a ruby streak followed the weapons.

Drop by Drop.

Aw, if the Guard Captain gets himself killed, then I won't be able to apply my brand of "Friendly Competition."

lol.  You may be taking your competition to a higher level man.

Quote from: Karakzon on January 23, 2012, 02:12:41 pm

if he dosent get himself beheaded first. depends, how lucky are the goblin archers?

How lucky are the Dwarves? Apparently, not so much :p

the badassery may counter that though.

Trust me man, goblin archers aren't that great. 

Yep.  Probably not tomorrow though. 

   The goblins siege was relentless.  As the goblins rammed the gate it opened up slightly, only to budge back out.  They hacked at it, scratching the steel.  Even the trolls swinging at it had a problem.  But suddenly, they all cheered.  “Reinforcements!  With battering rams and catapults!  You’ll all be seeing Armok soon while he drinks you blood you dwarvern bastards!”

   The dwarves faces went down with dismay.  Goblins weren’t supposed to have siege equipment.  ESPECIALLY the Challanges goblins.  They usually just charged to death, not really caring about anyone’s lives, including their own.  In a way, that was evidence that they had no greed in what they did.  They happily marched to their deaths, dying by the thousands at the hand of the enemy.

   Karakzon thought that eerie.   Being more than willing to give your life up for a cause, it was as if they WANTED to die.  They WANTED their blood to be spilled.  Perhaps they WANTED to give Armok a nice drink he needed.  He wondered if they really believed that dying was perfectly fine, and that they were supposed to enjoy it.  Perhaps that is why the weaker goblins were struck down, their suffering on Earth ended so that they could move on and enjoy the heavens.

   An arrow flying past his face changed his train of thought suddenly.  He felt like he had to yell something to his troops, to make them at least believe that he was calm and in control of the situation, all of the deaths on both sides a sweetly orchestrated plan that would in the end let Goldenhold triumph.

   The truth was he knew that he was screwed.  His axe rested on his shoulder, waiting for it’s next taste of blood, human or goblin, possibly even that of the trolls.

   He continued watching, but once more felt disconnected.  He began to question the idea that giving out fake orders was the best concept.....  Maybe it was better to let his men know that this was the end, and that the time had come for Goldenhold.  But he wasn’t sure about that.  It would take a while for them to breach the gates... he turned around at a cry of pain.  An arrow hit the axe on his shoulder, making him duck naturally.

   He headed off the battlements, getting away from the holes that viewed the other chamber.  He heard something slam into the gate, a battering ram running straight into it.  He sent a prayer to the fortress guard, and began to help pile boulders at the main entrance.  If he was right, they would need every last one of them.

   A messenger ran up to him, giving him a letter in all of the noise so that he could read it.

“Bad news and worse news- The bad news is that Goblin Siege Master Valican has sent about five barges of troops here, almost all of them armored in steel, carrying tower shields.  On the bright side, they did not bring any trolls.  The worse news is that he is currently.....”

He jumped at the slam of the gate,

“.... bringing various siege equipment.  Expect all of the following- ladders, heavy ladders, ballistas, catapults, battering rams, among extra elite goblins.  Good luck.”

He sighed, spinning around as he saw part of the battlements break as another stone crashed into it, rocks flying in every direction.  Karakzon pulled out his axe, and looked down the hall one last time, praying that a savior would come and save him.

   Suddenly, a dwarf in very impressive armor walked down the hallway, in a moment of need, a moment of depression, a moment of death.

That dwarf was one man, and one very important man.

The Captain of the guard.