Here's that next part I was talking about. It's a bit longer than my previous posts, but I needed to get the description in. This was loosely based on a game that I played. Enjoy!
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Part 8 Action at Udo's Fall
Wolfgard did not know what to make of the man who he hoped would become emperor. Martin seemed to care little of those men who were not of his county. As Wolfgard returned to his command, he wondered if the rumors were true. Did Martin really sacrifice the Ostermarkers at Hel Fenn? He had talked to a few veterans from Wissenland, those who had fought at the battle. But they were on the right flank, away from the reported atrocities, and were in no position to confirm or deny the reported events.
Wolfgard took in a deep breath and sighed. All of that had passed. And there he was, standing on a hill in Ostermark. He was concerned for his home, so far away, but trusted that Hoffman and the council would make sure that nothing bad would occur in his absence. The sigh that Wolfgard released was one to bring clarity, to let all of his concerns and fears escape him. He had no time to worry, for his men were here, on a ridge near Udo’s Fall in Ostermark, and they needed his leadership.
They had just arrived in their position that afternoon, at the request of Martin himself. In all actuality, they were ordered further down towards the forest that stood in front of them, but Wolfgard was not willing to have his men stumbling through thick underbrush at night while reports came to him telling of enemies close at hand. No, instead he held the high ground, where his men could remain in tight battle formations rather than worry about the disorder that would occur in the trees. Night was coming, and quick, only a few more hours of day by that point and if need be camp could be struck upon the hill.
While Lord Olenbay surveyed his position, he noted a tall, wiry man who stood alone behind the front lines of his troops. The man had a brown cloak on and had the guise of a person who did not know much of personal hygiene. The man gazed into the skies and noted the birds as they flew by. The men did not understand the ways of magicians, or warlocks, and neither did Wolfgard, but they all realized that in order to counter act the evil in the world, it was necessary to have one or two of these unsavory characters around for protection. This man, Alden as he was known, was one of them. He in fact, never sought out trouble, but it seemed to find him. Wolfgard was wary of the man, but did his best to respect him, and on several occasions Alden proved his worth in battle. It still did not matter much to some folks, as was noted in the way the men kept their distance as they milled around in loose formation, keeping their distance from him. They thought the practice of magic evil and Alden was never fully accepted into the town. This did not concern Alden in the least, however, for he was not much of a people person himself and much preferred the company of animals to humans.
“My Lord,” Schaufelein’s voice rose above the murmur of the men, snapping Wolfgard out of his daze. The veteran captain limped forward, bowing his head slightly as he approached. “Reports have just come in from the scouts, orcs are moving in this direction.”
“Good,” replied Wolfgard. “This is the perfect position, they will run squarely into us. I am glad we received word when we did, I was ready to give word to the men to pitch their tents,” he said with a voice clearly indicating he wished that was possible. “Good work, Anton.”
“Thank you my lord,” responded Anton, squinting as he looked up to his lord, the sun shining brightly as it moved lower in the sky. “My lord, your cousin Reineir has still not yet arrived with his retinue.”
Wolfgard looked down onto his grizzled captain from atop his horse and admired him for his loyalty and devotion, then he spoke, “It seems as though that orc raiding party held him up longer than expected. We will have to make do without him and his retinue. That town was far too important to let fall to those savages,” Wolfgard sighed again.
“It’s alright my lord,” Schaufelein said quickly, as he patted Wolfgard’s horse on the side. “It had to be done. The lads’ll do fine, they always have.”
“Of course they will Anton,” he smiled. “They are from Brennenburg.”
At that moment, a man dressed in brown and green ran up to the crest of the hill where they stood. It was one of the scouts, and he was greatly winded. “Lord Wolfgard, the orcs are just past those trees there,” the man pointed behind him, gasping for breath as he did. “They were right behind us, the whole lot of them.”
“Relax, lad. You did well. Assemble your scouts over in those trees to our right and form a skirmishing line. Hold our flank on that side as best you can, I know you will not be able to all day; I just need you to forewarn us in case we are turned. Am I clear?”
“Yes my lord,” the man bolted from where he stood off into the direction of the woods.
“Alright Anton, it is time.” The two shook hands and parted ways. Anton limped down towards the front of his spearmen, the 1st Regiment, and Wolfgard galloped towards Gregor who sat high in his saddle behind the 4th Regiment. Wolfgard nodded his head for the drummer of the swordsmen unit to signal the other regiments of the action to come. As the call beat from the drum, other drums sounded and the men hurried into formation and the flags were unfurled. All the while, as this happened, the orcs emerged from the trees, one large mass of green ferocity that was ready to wreak havoc.
“It looks as though Martin had the right assignment for us, my lord,” spoke Gregor.
“Aye, he did indeed. It seems our reputation as orc fighters has preceded us,” Wolfgard chuckled. “We do not have much of a reserve this day my friend, so you and I will have to fulfill that role.”
Gregor nodded as they reviewed the men. Holding the left flank was Schaufelein’s spearmen. There was nothing to anchor the line at that end, so this tough assignment was given to the veteran, for he was the only one that Lord Olenbay entrusted with such a difficult task. In order to add more strength to his weak end, Schaufelein drew up his crossbow detachment to his right to provide supporting fire, and to keep in contact with the spears to the right, while the halberdiers formed to the left and back in a refused position. Next in line were the swordsmen, with their detachment of archers forming a skirmish line in the front which covered both them and their detachment of halberdiers. Out to the right were more archers, hidden excellently in the woods. To the rear of the line were stationed the handgunners, the recently formed 7th Regiment, and the only cannon that made the trek from Brennenburg. A name had not been decided for it as of yet, which was a debate that raged quite heatedly around the campfires at night. Some thought it to be a bad omen not to name the machine, but many laughed it off as unneeded superstition.
The orcish horde stood still at the edge of the forest, screaming primeval grunts to their heathen gods. As they did, drums pounded and horns sounded causing the host to further increase their rumbling. To ease tension, the men of the 4th Regiment began singing, soon followed by their detachments and quickly spreading to the other regiments. ‘Sweet Home of Wissenland’ was the song of choice that day.
As the soldiers sang the winds began to pick up and the hair stood on the back of every neck. In the ears of all the adrenaline crazed warriors was heard the pulsating energy flow that only occurs when sorcery is about. Quickly, the sensation passed, Alden dispelling the vile trickery before any harm could come of it.
As the orcs surged forward, Wolfgard looked down his line, confident that each man knew his assignment he stood in his saddle and spoke, “Here me men of Brennenburg!” he shouted over the singing, the men’s voices slowly faded to hear their beloved leader. “The menace that you see before us is an old one. It was not expected that we would be fighting this hazard, but it matters little. This band of orcs threatens our lines, and whether they know it or not, they are acting in conjunction with the Ulricians. So we fight them as we have always fought them, and let it be known that this battle here today WILL help us in winning this war! May Sigmar be with you!”
With that, the men of Brennenburg cheered their approval, rivaling anything the orcs could ever muster, and then their voices again arose in song. Wolfgard raised his hand and in a quick motion waved to his cannon crew. The chief gunner shouted a final order and they opened fire, signaling to the army that action was to commence, the first shot sailing well over the heads of the greenskins. All crossbowmen and handgunners soon followed suit, dropping but a few of the vastness of the orc hoard. The cannon crew quickly reloaded and fired again, the shot sticking firmly into the ground this time. The shell landed in front of a pack of wolf riders who were howling quickly towards the 4th Regiment. All fire was directed at this threat, and before the gibbering pack could reach the line, they were scattered by a concentrated volley. As the smoke cleared, only a few wolves scurried back towards their line as most were struck down. The fleeing wolves did little to dismay the oncoming line, only a few orcs in the back stopped to bicker amongst themselves for a brief moment, but they quickly reformed ranks.
Again, the cannon unleashed a cloud of smoke and fire. This time however, it was a much louder explosion, and a much larger plume of smoke. Wolfgard turned to see what had happened, but the entire crest of the ridge was shrouded in the fog of war. As the smoke began to drift away, the cannon and its crew were no longer visible. Only handgunners were seen, as they hurried about checking the carnage left in a crater made by the exploding cannon. A bad omen indeed, thought Wolfgard.
The orc threat only continued on. Handgunners and crossbowmen unleashed volley after volley trying to soften up the greenskin line before it crashed into them. As the range closed, more orcs fell and the archers began to loose their arrows as the range decreased, but it still did little to deter the oncoming tide. With little more than twenty paces between themselves and the orcs, the archer screen in front of the 4th Regiment melted away and fell back behind the lines. Wolfgard shouted to his men to hold steady and prepare themselves for the inevitable impact.
In the blink of an eye the orcs were upon the 4th. A loud clash of steel echoed over the landscape, and the sweet sound of singing was replaced by horrible screams of battle, as the Brennenburgers initially reeled from the immense tide. “Steady!” Wolfgard shouted to his men, as he looked down the line at the 1st regiment, not yet engaged. The orcs on that side were lagging behind slightly and as they ambled forward the handgunners on the hill and the crossbowmen detachment unleashed a horrendous volley that toppled many of the horrid beasts. It did not deter them, however, and as they crashed into the wall of spears Schaufelein could be heard shouting out encouragement to his men.
When the orcs hit on the left they did not make as big of an impact as was made on the right. The spears held the advantage at this point and the first line of orcs were slaughtered as they were skewered on the pointed wall. The crossbowmen poured in another round of bolts and slowly began to give ground to the orcs who were lead by their boss.
The massive greenskin was riding an equally large boar and as the two monsters road through the line, men fell in droves. The boar gored with it’s vast tusks, throwing men into the air as it reared it’s head from side to side with the commands of it’s master. The immense orc wielded a large rusted sword that stood nearly the size of a man and wielded it with great strength, heaving it from side to side crushing and butchering Brennenburgers as he went. The crossbowmen could not stand up to this brute, and they continued to give ground, loosing bolts as they pulled back. Several stuck into the orc warrior, with little effect. The monstrous creature only roared a defiant cry of anger as it sliced men in two and continued onward. The crossbowmen could not take anymore and they began to flee in disarray.
Seeing this, Wolfgard spurred his charger and rode headlong into the midst of the oncoming danger, dropping several orcs as they closed in on the crossbows. Gregor followed suit and as an orc leapt at Wolfgard, he loosed an arrow that plunged deep within the tiny brain of the massive creature, felling it before it could harm his lord. Finally recognizing a human that may be able to give him some contest, the orc boss howled again in what seemed to be a challenge to Lord Olenbay. Wolfgard turned his steed to confront the orc, and the horse screamed and kicked up as the boar began to rumble towards them, carrying it’s master with it. Quickly pulling the reigns to the left, the horse skipped to the side, allowing the charging boar to pass by, which gave Wolfgard an opening. While the beast ran past, Wolfgard thrust his sword downward, slitting the neck of the boar killing it instantly. The creature toppled to the ground, hurtling the orc off it’s back, leaving him vulnerable. As the boss began to get to his feet, Wolfgard ordered the rallying crossbowmen to loose a volley into the beast. The men did as they were told and soon the orc had nearly a dozen bolt shafts petruding from it’s body. The beast bellowed a loud cry of pain as it got to it’s knees and it slowly began to give ground. The remaining crossbowmen shored up the line as there was a moments respite from the staggering orc line.
The 1st was being slowly flanked by this point and the halberdier detachment on the left swung down and around the outside and crashed furiously into the open side of the orcs. The heavy weight of the halberds added to the electrified men who stormed downhill. The tough hides of the orcs could not withstand the awesome force and quite a few of the foul creatures turned and fled as they saw others’ being crushed by the massive force of the halberdiers.
Things were going well on the left, but not so much on the right. The swordsmen of the 4th were being pushed back, but not under great effort. The position in which Wolfgard chose was a good one, for the orcs had to fight uphill in order to gain ground. It would take a lot to tire out these brutes, but every advantage would be helpful. The halberdier detachment on the right flank had been pulled back soon after the archer screen melted away, in order to provide support to the 4th when needed. Now was as perfect time as any to move in, and as they began to move at a double quick speed, the archers protecting the right loosed a volley onto the exposed flank of the orcs. This enraged many of the thugs and it caused them to lose formation and scatter in several directions, one group chasing the now withdrawing archers while others continued to charge uphill. With the fragmentation of force, the halberdiers pounded their way through the center, driving a hole into the orc line on that end. The impetus with which these men hit the orcs allowed the 4th some reprieve and they were able to support their detachment as they pushed forward.
As the first waves of the orcs ran in panic and confusion, the several untouched units lost heart and began to run themselves. Even the orc war boss who was trying to rally his boys by bashing anything that came near him could not overturn the damage that had already been done. While the orcs ran in confusion, the 7th on top of the hill fired off a few rounds to cover the other regiments as they shored up their lines. The Brennenburgers cheered as the last of the orcs ran into the trees. As the sun hid past the horizon the men began to tend to the wounded. They were tired and their lines were too weak to withstand another assault. If the orc boss could rally his warriors, the Brennenburgers would not be able to hold. Wolfgard began issuing orders, contemplating withdrawing his worn troops to a more secure location. And there, in the last glimmer of daylight, could be seen a galloping column of knights with the banner of Brennenburg fluttering at the head. It was Reineir and his men returning from assignment, the hill would remain in Sigmar’s hands!
