An arrow whistled passed just above Dasher's ear as the quick-thinking goblin ducked just in time to narrowly avoid the oncoming missile. Scenes of carnage and overall chaos echoed around the warlord as he rose back up into the air as he continued to face off against his lastest opponent, the loud-mouthed orc leader of a primarily warg riding warband.

"You can't dodge them forever, little goblin!" The bone-thin orc yelled out as the sounds of battle rang out between them. The orc warlord snarled his teeth as he watched in frustration as his goblin adversary expertly dodged another of his arrows.

For Dasher, it was strange to see an orc who was little more than skin and bones. He was so used to the idea of his racial cousins being made from a more brawnier stock than a goblin that he had been astounded at the prospect of facing off against an orc who appeared to be on the verge of starvation.

With how puny the orc was, Dasher struggled to think of a scenario that would have led him to be in a leadership position that he was now in.

The goblin stayed silent and notched one of his own arrows and fired it towards the visibly upset orc. Dasher grunted in frustration as he watched the missile veer off harmlessly into the distance, yet still somehow managing to pierce the back of a different fighter's skull.

Friend or foe it didn't matter to him who he had killed. This entire battle had been nothing more than a whirlwind of bloodshed that had left the goblin confused and engorged upon the blood of those he had slain. The longer the day had worn on, the more everything mixed into a blurry mix of confusing flashes of memories.

In the back of his mind, Dasher knew that his lack of response was starting to affect his counterpart's actions. The orc was at one point very talkative and would make effortless attempts in trying to force the goblin to befuddle his movements or do what he wished for him to do. Now the orc struggled to load the flimsy bow in his hands and struggled to fumble out incoherent rants that only served to frustrate the orc.

Dasher wouldn't be all that surprised if his one-time boisterous rival would give up entirely on trying to rile up the armored goblin.

More arrow fire continued to be exchanged between the two and once again, the missiles whistled harmlessly into the distance while the two leaders struggled to vie for supremacy over the battlefield. Neither of them were willing to allow the other to gain the upper hand and the two kept a safe distance from one another, lest their vicious mounts tried to pry the riders off of their respective wargs.

The impromptu duel would have continued as a standstill, as both archers had proven to be terrible shots and neither of them were willing to move closer in an attempt to strike at their opponent. This all changed as Dasher watched his opponent's black-furred warg jolt up into the air, forcing the orcs next shot to shoot wildly into the clouds above.

The arrow was to be never seen again.

Dasher watched as the orc clenched his jaw tight while his adversary's face grew red hot with rage. With an explosive roar and a sudden, jerking motion; the opposing warlord threw down his bow and turned towards the goblin.

Gore snarled and showed his fangs as the warg reached out and swiped at the approaching orc. The creature's sharp claws tore into the other wargs flesh, taking out large chunks of meat as the two beasts snapped at one another.

Blood poured from the creature's wounds as its master let out a defiant roar and swung an arm towards Dasher. The goblin ducked low to avoid the oncoming swing, bringing himself low enough to graze the snow-white fur of his mount. Dasher reached for his waistband and pulled out a wicked dagger, the edges of the blade were rusted and dull with age, but the bladed weapon still had its uses as the goblin warlord jolted up and slashed at the orc's arm. The blade failed to connect as its intended target quickly pulled back his arm and veered away from his newly armed opponent.

Dasher shook his head in frustration at his opponent's cowardice and leaned over to his side, signaling to Gore that he wanted to chase after the orc. The warg complied with his master's wishes, and the two began a long and sordid dance.

During their long and grueling chase, the pair kept a healthy distance between one another as they weaved in and out of the chaotic battlefield. The two warlords moved at a whirlwind pace as they battled with one another in between countless bouts of dodging a slew of attacks of opportunity from their blood-crazed minions.

Numerous orcs and goblins were trampled beneath the rampaging warlords as their respective mounts trampled upon friend and foe alike. Bones were broken, and limbs were shattered as the furious creatures carved a swath of destruction for their masters to continue their running duel in relative peace.

Dasher began to wonder just how long the insanity of their duel would continue as he sliced open the neck of a would-be opportunistic assailant. Screams filled the air behind him as the warlord pushed his faithful companion forward. Gore's breath came in ragged gasps as the white-furred beast jumped into the air to avoid a string of mangled corpses.

The blood-soaked warlord wondered how long he could continue to push his best friend and companion before the creature decided enough was enough and threw off his master off of its back.

Dasher understood that he needed to end the battle before that was to happen and to do that he would need a weapon that would be able to deal a decisive blow against his orc counterpart. It was a tall order, but one that the goblin believed to be doable.

So long as he was able to find a way in time.

"Gore!" The goblin called out as he leaned closer towards the wargs ear before patting the nape of the beast's neck. "Cut to the right and take us deeper inside!"

Gore let out a huff of air, acknowledging that he had heard his masters command and darted off into the requested direction.

As his trusted mount led the two of them further into the writhing mass of blood-stained bodies, Dasher kept a watchful eye out for his reclusive enemy. The goblin could only watch on in frustration as the orc warlord continued to expertly weave in and out of his sight while the distance between the two continued to increase at a rapid pace. It wouldn't be long before the pair had completely lost sight of one another.

Dasher shook his head as he silently vowed never to let that moment come to pass.

As the goblin continued to slash at his enemies without a second thought, Dasher struggled to finalize a plan that would end the battle in his favor. The terrified screams of his victims were far too taxing on the warlord's mind for him to think clearly, and an overly eager desire to kill was slowly beginning to creep in around the boundaries of his mind.

It didn’t matter what Dasher did to try and thwart the tunnel vision that now threatened to take over his sight. The goblin had only one desire, and that was to engorge on the ever-present bloodlust of the battlefield.

Yet those dark urges that threatened to hold sway of his desires never came to pass as an object flew into the side of the goblin's face and bounced off of the side of his head. Blood poured down onto his body below from a large gash on the side of his skull as the mysterious object continued on its path, becoming nothing more than a side piece to the conflict at large.

A woozy Dasher struggled to maintain his balance and was nearly thrown off of Gore's back while the goblin spun dizzily in his seat. The warlord violently shook his head as he attempted to clear away the odd shapes and strange balls of light that bounced around in his vision.

For the most part, it had worked and what little remained soon evaporated out of existence as his vision became sharper over time.

With his bloodlust seemingly quelled, Dasher set about on finding out how best to kill his orc counterpart before his rival had disappeared for good.

The goblins quest to find his opponent was an easy one as the orc had managed to fall off of his mount and was now fighting a swarm of goblins on foot.

The orc warlord was drenched in blood and gore as he split the head of a nearby goblin while he throttled the neck another before quickly slamming the unfortunate creature into the ground. The blood-soaked orc raised a foot into the air and stomped down on the poor goblin's neck, grinding the heel of his boot into the base of its neck.

Dasher was thankful for the sacrifices of those that had managed to surround the orc as he looked around the battlefield for a suitable weapon in dealing with his dismounted opponent. He struggled to find anything of use that would be able to render his rival dead before the opposing warlord had managed to get away and the whirlwind of carnage that lay before him was of no help in accomplishing his quest.

Finally, after what had felt like an eternity in searching. The goblin’s eyes had stumbled upon a lone, bloody spear that jutted out of the corpse of a fallen warg.

With one last look back at the orc; Dasher was satisfied that the rival warlord wouldn’t be able to move very far without being swarmed by another batch of battle crazed goblins.

With a jubilant howl and a swift kick to Gore’s sides, the two went off after the chosen weapon.

Calls to order and for battle lines to be formed echoed throughout the distance as the dueling artillery of the opposing armies clashed with one another. Volleys of arrow fire rained down upon the approaching horde of goblins as the seemingly endless tide of grey-skinned monsters slowly made their way across the bloodied waters of the nearby lake.

At first, the human's struggled to think of the clumsily built boats as a threat to their lines, as they appeared to be nothing more than cut timber. That all changed once the sheer weight of numbers became something more than a poorly played out joke, and the archers were now desperately firing off their munitions in an attempt to thin out the encroaching goblin's before they made it to the shore.

As the lake's once pristine and calm water exploded out into the clear blue sky, Velicion could only begin to fathom the lack of thinking it took for someone to come up with the idea of ferrying an entire army across a large body of water with nothing more than simple logs. 'Nasty little devils.' The elven sorceress thought to herself as she spoke the words of power that launched a massive fireball towards a clustered group of the makeshift naval vessels.

Tens of goblins were incinerated within an instant as her spell landed directly on top of her intended target.

"Eighteen kids later and I've still got it." A jovial Velicion said to herself as a boastful smile crept onto her face.

Her celebration was immediately interrupted by the joyful, yet obnoxiously loud, whoops and hollers off to her right. She wasn't at all surprised to see a group of three teenage elves jumping for joy as they celebrated the results of their latest shot.

The sorceress looked to see where some of the boys were pointing towards and watched on as the tail end of a ballistae bolt slowly sunk into the lake's depths. Velicion shook her head in disgust as she returned her gaze towards the boys, only to find them mimicking the last desperate motions of their still-living targets as the goblins struggled to stay above the water's surface.

Their abhorrent attitudes towards the horrific scene they had caused were only made worse when she noticed that one of the boys, Than'doran she believed, called out towards another elven crewed ballistae. The teenager held out his hands and signaled to the rival crew that they had just killed seven goblins with a single shot.

Velicion followed the boys gaze to find out that none other than Prince Aurelius was watching over the rambunctious band of hooligans. The elven woman prayed to the gods above that the son of her people's ruler would at least have the tact and courtesy to take the battle seriously. Her hopes were crushed as she watched the blonde prince hold up his fingers.

One-shot had killed a total of fifteen goblins.

As the nearest crew threw false fits of outrage, the elven sorceress had enough of their flamboyant behavior and twisted her body towards the nearby group. "Boys!" She yelled out as she began to chastise the teenagers for their boisterous behavior. A nearby trebuchet launched its latest payload as she continued to yell at the top of her lungs. "Pay attention and load your next shot!"

"Oh, come on!" Than'doran yelled out in return as another of his crew lifted the next shot into position and slammed the bolt down hard. The young elf quickly pulled back his arms as he yelped out in shock as the ballistae suddenly let loose, firing the freshly loaded round without the input of its unaware gunner. The remaining crewman laughed at the fortunate elf, but that did little to calm the motherly sorceress's nerves from being wracked with shock. "Lokhan and Lorhan are jumping around and doing all of these crazy stunts, so why can't we have some fun?"

Velicion dragged an open palm over her face at the boy's words. The teenager remained unaware, or unconcerned, of the blatant near-disaster that happened to his friend, and all he was concerned about was ratting out the twins. "I'll take care of them once everything is said and done with." The sorceress said as she turned just in time to watch the elven twins jump up into the air and performed skillful feats of acrobatics before firing the next shot from their bows. She shook her head as she watched the twin brothers celebrate their latest kill with a high-five as both of their arrows pierced the skull of a lone goblin.

Regardless of how she felt about the attitudes of those under her care, the sorceress had to admit that the entire scenario playing before her very eyes was a massacre for the goblins and their masters. Large swaths of the lake's surface were littered with the corpses of the little creatures. Their floating bodies bobbed heavily against the conflict-induced waves as gore clogged water rained down on the still living goblins.

For those disorganized rare few that made it ashore, the onslaught of missiles that rained down upon their positions made short work of any attempts at landing. The lack of discipline and near absent organization ensured that the goblins never made it past the first several steps before they were cut down and slaughtered like sacrificial animals.

Despite the grim scenes before their eyes, the creatures still attempted to cross the lake in droves. Whoever was in charge of this bloodbath had sorely miscalculated the amount of resistance they would have faced.

Seeing as there was no point in feeling sorrow for the dead, the sorceress shouted out to the heavens and called forth a powerful storm of lightning. Cracks of thunder and bolts of light drowned out any nearby noise as logs caught fire while their riders quickly jumped ship in a vain hope of saving themselves. Only to have the misfortune of being electrocuted as flashes of light struck nearby, sending plumes of smoke up into the sky as their charred remains slowly sunk beneath the icy cold surface.

As the magical storm decimated a swathe in the enemy's ranks, a great roar rose out from the human's ranks. This was the very first time that these young men had ever seen such a destructive spell and Velicion suspected that for many of them, it would be one of their very last.

This wasn't because the sorceress had doubts about their ability in defending the beachead. The sheer weight of the dead that now slowly washed ashore had made quick work of any lingering doubts. It was all in part thanks to her limited experiences with siege warfare.

Once everything was said and over with, both sides would see heavy casualties inflicted upon their lines. The only victors in the brutal climactic battle would be the respective gods of war that each of the races worshipped and the rare individuals who relished in the terrifying, bloody business of war and murder. For everyone else, long sieges meant having to starve or wait for months on end before they could be relieved. The shorter a siege tended to be the more brutal it became once the final assault upon the walls had been given.

Up until now, Velicion had never been so close to the battlefield and the elven sorceress loathed the idea of having front row seats to the inevitable bloodbath that would spark the explosive ending.

Day faded into night as the battle had continued to rage on, but eventually, the orc’s artillery slowly went quiet. Whether that was in thanks to the human’s efforts in effectively attacking their determined locations with their own counter artillery, a lack of ammunition on the part of the besieging force, or a deliberate decision by their crew the lithe elven woman couldn’t say. What she did know was that the remnants of the amphibious assault had been completely routed and those who remained were being picked off in a manner that could only be described as methodical. The dead creatures were slowly being piled up into mounds of bloated corpses as young men walked upon the shore and hacked away at the injured while the archers who still had ammunition left aimed carefully at the tired and weary goblins who struggled to reach the safety of the shoreline.

Once the last of the grey-skinned monsters had been slaughtered like the drowning rats they were seen as; a great cheer rose up into the dim evening sky from the victorious defenders.

The losses that the band of humans and elves had inflicted upon the goblins were seen, and boasted as such, as terrible. Velicion suspected that the numbers were of no concern to those who led the army outside of Ruined Home, but that had not stopped her in celebrating alongside those who she saw as being no older than her youngest child. Some of them took great pride in the rumored numbers they had killed, and they had even gone so far as to joke about the lake becoming a massive pot of ‘Goblin Soup.’

Wanting no part in the gruesome tone that many of the younger elves and humans were now taking part in, Velicion slowly distanced herself from the crowded group and scanned the area for a quiet spot that she could sit down and quietly rearrange her thoughts. Crude and baseless rumors would eventually begin to spread over this victory and the motherly sorceress had always found the prospect of spreading propaganda to be an uncomfortable one.

She viewed such tasks were best left to the Dwan’ari, a caste of die-hard, low-born elves who traveled across the righteous kingdom of Da’Nari and spoke the ‘Great Truth’ about their people’s greatness.

Despite the jubilant atmosphere, victory did not come cleanly to the humans. Nearly a dozen men were killed, and many more had been grievously injured. Some of these wounded men wouldn’t see the next light of day while many more had suffered a loss of one or more limbs.

Now all that was left for the victors to do was to pick up the pieces, set up a watch and to clear out the dead before their rot seeped into the ground and poisoned the earth.

"Despite everything turning out fairly well, I can already tell that you have something that you would like to say." Exclaimed the hoarse voice of Captain Boris before the man let out a tired cough.

The expedition's leader had been absent during the battle at the lake as he was needed elsewhere. He had found it necessary in the idea of ensuring that the rest of Ruined Home would be able to stand ready for the next assault upon their walls. So it was of no surprise to Velicion that the man looked deader than a reanimated corpse.

"Ever the insightful one, aren't you?" The sorceress replied as she leaned back in her chair before crossing her left leg over its opposite. The two of them had remained behind in the encampment's command tent after everyone else had already left to retire for the night.

"I try to be, especially now." The man said as he shrugged his shoulders in an exhausted manner. "Let's hear it then."

"Without getting into too much detail, I think that your archers were a bit too happy at the prospect of getting something to shoot at."

"Concerned about our stock of arrows, are you?" Captain Boris said as he straightened out his back and noisily scooted his chair forward. "You don't have anything to worry about. We still have thousands of arrows left, and the ones we can't recover once the sun has risen again is of no real concern."

"Those are some bold words coming from a commander whose men wasted over three-thousand arrows of a finite source." The sorceress said with a playful smile as her tongue clicked against the roof of her mouth. "If I might be so rude to ask, how many arrows did your expedition bring along with you?"

The man looked up at the tent's ceiling as he thought back to the pages upon pages of numerous manifests that he had become so familiar with before the expedition departed the lands of his lord. Captain Boris struggled to come up with the exact number as there had been multiple occasions where entire pages had been altered, added or removed in their entirety.

When he couldn't think of a specific answer to give to the inquisitive elf, the man came up with a more stock answer. "Over ten thousand, I believe. Enough to get us through the next battle."

"But will it be enough to see us through the siege in its entirety?"

Captain Boris placed his hands behind his head and let out a tired sigh in frustration at the sorceress's words. To him, the woman was far more paranoid than she should be, and it was starting to grate the man. Yet he couldn't find fault with what she had to say.

Without having to rely on the next supply train from the capital, the men under his command would have to be careful in how they used the weapons and ammunition given to them. The expedition was unable to make their own ammunition, and it was only a matter of time before the archers would completely run dry of their missiles.

What the elven woman wanted the man to admit was that he needed to reign in his men and ensure that they took extra care in how they handled acquiring their targets.

"I'll concede to your point." Captain Boris said begrudgingly. "Even if your attempt at proving it was entirely asinine."

Velicion nodded her head in thanks at the man's self-admitted defeat.

"With that out of the way," The human said as a yawn escaped from his mouth. "Let's talk about that magic of yours. Despite your earlier claims, it proved to be very resourceful. I hear that you killed dozens of goblins with a single spell on multiple occasions. The morale boost from that alone is enough to give credit to your magical prowess."

"Oh, please." The woman said with a gentle laugh as an innocent smile appeared on her face. "It's nothing to write home about. The spells that your men saw today were nothing more than mere child's play when compared to the horrifying capabilities that my people's most powerful sorcerers are known for."

Captain Boris shook his head as he next spoke. "I wouldn't call being able to summon a storm as 'mere child's play.' I'll wager that if we had more of you at our disposal than this siege would've been over and done with well before it even began."

A curt laugh escaped the elf's gentle lips as she shook her head at the man. "The spells that I know that are capable of causing harm to someone aren't best suited for an actual battle. My expertise lies elsewhere, and it would be better for everyone here if I were to provide them a more effective means in fighting back."

"And what would that be, exactly?" An intrigued Captain Boris asked.

Velicion gave the man a knowing smile as she began to explain what she had in mind.