[IP] Story Cube Prompt

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There are still Orcs on the plains before the tower. Scouts say several hundred." Worn and tired faces greeted the Baron as he squinted off into the distance of the warming morning, listening to the soldier standing in attention at his side. "If we've got a clear shot towards the main force, I say we try and take it. They haven't noticed us due to the outcrops."

"Ambush from the high-ground advantage is' it? Our enemies certainly aren't organized for it..." The Baron growled the words in idle response as he chewed through the dried apple with a frown. The fruit was the best he could find among the pitiful remainder of their fielded rations, and as he watched the distant figures of a rallying army stumble about a bloodied field, he reasoned that the flavor seemed fitting, though, better this than the dried fish. "So Jarl's scribe network spoke the truth after'all. Southern forces pulled a victory here. Nothing but stragglers left."

"So it seems, my lord." The soldier bowed low, eyes cast down towards the muddied prints of boots and hooves in the black ground below them. The Baron eyed the younger man, amused.

"Chin up lad, we've still got Jarl Congrad's mages on our side." A hairy first beat beneath its gauntlet, clamor rising from the red-painted breast plate. "I've seen that old bastard of his, Eldrick: His Eagle can shit lightning, that it' can."

Overhead, a distant bird of prey let out a shrieking caw.

Together they stood atop the outcrop, awaiting skirmishes before them and the sounds of men in armor readying behind. Filling his lungs with the stale and dusted air of the Western planes, the Baron let the morning rise within his chest, filling him with strength for the coming day.

"Ho there!" Another voice yelled from behind, drawing both men's attention as a rider made his way to their position upon the ridge. "Baron Louis, Sir! Congrad's ordering the force mobilize down to the plains. Scribe network has issued orders to regroup by mid-day. He says they've taken the Spire!"

"The Spire? The Blackened Spire?" He shouted with disbelief, spitting the mouthful of fruit into the muddied filth below. "I don't believe that for a damned' second."

"Sir, we've confirmed ourselves before bringing word word. Looking-glass confirmed Doterra flags along the Compass towers, with that Dragon perched upon the Eastern like it owns the place."

"Light and flaming Drake-shit, so we've won the bloody war? It's about time!" The Baron roared with laughter, smile wide as his sword flew free from the sheath which held it. "Lets get on with it then!"

"Sir!" The soldiers leapt to attention as the Baron drew his blade high, chorus of other below rising to a mighty shout.

"On my lead men! Lets clean up this mess and head home!" The shouts rose higher, lifting in the wind that swept over-top the high ground with the clamor of swords on bucklers, shield and hammers and spears thrust high towards the open sky above.

That chorus of cheers continued as the army moved out, songs of marching yelled out for any and all to hear as they began their final trek towards victory.