It's All Fun and Games
Drunk and short we may be, but we can still swing and take out your knee, you will see.
So bring your best and we will return with ours and drink between each swing.
You're a fool if you think we can't see the next three beasts lining up to face us while we wait in glee.
You think we cannot handle a horde? You'll soon learn we were bored.
So come one and all and be ready to fall, and for the dwarfs to stand tall.
—Dwarfs, looking for a fight
It was just a little before nightfall when they came, and the absurdity of it all was they camped outside his wall without a single shot fired or bellow demanding a fight. It was as if them just showing up was enough, and they were waiting for me to make the next move or bow my head in defeat before I moved a single piece.
Yet within the walls I made hundreds of minions of various sizes. Some tall with lanky, vine-like arms. Small like cats to swarm. A sea of other sizes slowly forming with time. It was easily double their number—no, three times, even without knowing their exact count. More than enough to show them my force.
I made a behemoth last—a slow lumbering beast mirrored after my current beast near me in the cave, though I felt it lacked the same power. It was still impressive. The shadow children danced among the minions, wishing to play, and Luma shooed them away for me, knowing this was not a game. Tom stayed near the gate, watching the fires from the dwarfs' camp as a runner reported to me at the altar. I'd bled a mirror earlier with Tom to help me see, which was why he stood as a vanguard for me. But I did not like risking real people to war.
"They'll probably ambush whoever attacks them, lord." He said it to my mirror, and though I could not respond, the mirror gave me eyes but not a voice—a limit I needed to learn to overcome later.
The new minions grew impatient as the behemoth was finally formed. I made an aura personally within it to empower the others into a frenzy. I was worried it would affect other humans and my shadow children, so I tried to limit its effect to a roar and would not let it use it in the city. So it joined the other minions, getting frenzied, feeling its only purpose was not being fulfilled yet. They could now sense my consent.
Wave One
Go… Hunt.
And I felt the sea surge forward. The dwarfs will soon learn why a god is to be feared.
As they surged past the open gate into the field, I watched the torches among the darkness. I swear I could hear the scattered, fearful battle cries—not expecting this ambush. How stupid could the fools be? I opened my gate.
Yet the ball of fire that flared into the sky awed and blinded me, along with all who witnessed it, as the first volley followed—flames and bolts into the stunned horde, shattering their numbers.
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
I could hear the sound deep within the altar, the shake of the mirror. As my vision cleared, it showed an amazing sight. The tents were a ruse. They were not sleeping—they were prepared from the start for a fight. They'd dug trenches in the cover of night and had rows of men with long-range fire shattering my minions before they could even comprehend they were being hit. Half his minions' numbers gone before a single dwarf lost a drop of blood.
I would panic if I did not plan with a horde in mind. More were already forming. I just needed space for them to form. A new wave would form in time. The power within him still flowed deeply. This was a minor setback, and he shivered in joy hearing the sound he was looking forward to.
ROAR.
The behemoth was finally far enough away from his kingdom it felt it could risk the blood aura, and now it was his minions' turn to give them something to fear.
I wished I'd thought to give it the ability to spew bile—would have been interesting to see if their nature magic could handle that much or would it be overwhelming. The smaller minions were least effective, that I could see, despite my belief they would overwhelm them with their smaller size. It seemed their armor and short height shielded them from whatever advantage smaller prey being hard to hit would afford.
Add to it, they seemed to be in formations and not breaking. Even when they rotated—pulling wounded back, new ones filling the gaps just as quickly—and that was just those that met my beasts at the front. Anything trying to go deeper was stopped with dug-in trenches and repelled long before they could strike at the camps.
I smiled at their folly when my behemoth sensed this disadvantage. It was a primitive beast, but even a simple mind could see the wall before it and all the open space beyond. So when it leaped over them and the trenches, I felt I'd won. As chaos ensued, it was smashing a few of the siege weapons as a new set of dwarfs reformed to meet the threat that got deep in.
I was mildly surprised when its barbed tails cut a few down and pierced others, yet the endless tide of death I expected never came. I wondered if it was chance, a fluke, or something more deliberate, though I could not see it. Somehow, they managed to neutralize the beast's tails, reducing their effectiveness as an imposing menace.
It still had its teeth and claws at least, and even with their formidable defense, the beast was smashing them around. Yet they kept coming back for more.
It was not long before ropes came, pinning it low as others climbed the beast and brought it down. It was supposed to be my triumph and end with a show of force, yet the roars of my beast soon died down. And even in the distance, all I could hear was laughter? They enjoyed this?
No… perhaps it was an open mockery and taunt. I will make the next wave smarter, more refined. It would be half the size due to time constraints, but I was confident with the coming of light I could strike with a large force once more. This one would be more refined and reinforced. I will try a flying behemoth this time and spew bile so they cannot overwhelm it. They may have been able to shoot down the bird before, but that was more a fluke of chance, not a battle waged with equipment destroyed and lives lost.
Wave Two
Tom kept me informed even as I was distracted with refining the minions. I had vague memories of monster types fighting and was trying to model them after that. I could sense the unease and concern through the air, even not being there. This was the first time they saw their lord fight, and the enemy was still at the gate.
They did not strike after I did. I assumed they agreed to an unspoken ceasefire while we both gathered our strength. Or perhaps they wanted to taunt and insult me more, knowing they could do nothing and win in time.
I was unsure.
Technically, thanks to their supplies, the people could live fine for months, and I never established trade beyond… Reports from the king and Tom spoke of other human settlements deeper beyond the sea that traded occasionally, but nothing in the rot lands. This one only existed thanks to the light goddess keeping the rot suppressed closer to her kingdom. It was why they paid tribute.
The sun rose in the east, and with it the battlefield came into clearer view.
The damage was not as great as I had hoped. There should have been a sea of corpses for me to draw upon, yet too many lay beyond the reach of my shadow's grasp, their essence denied to me. The minions I had lost bled back into the land, most of their power returning, but some essence was wasted—dulled, as though the weapons of my enemy had stripped the mana from their dying forms.
And still, they did not cower in the dawning light. Even through the distant mirror, I saw them laughing, eating in shifts, treating this war as though it were no more than another day's labor. I wondered why they underestimated me so, even now. Perhaps they held an ace yet unrevealed, some weapon or trick to unleash when the time came.
Not that it mattered. I had come this far, and I would see it through to the end. Already minions flowed past the gates, rushing forward—
Then the war horn blared.
Its harsh cry tore through the morning air, sharp and unyielding, snapping the dwarves to their posts and signaling to them the next wave had come.
Madness.
They adapted too easily, too quickly—laughing and drinking to formations within seconds, and all from a moment's notice from a random blaring horn?
My finger tapped as I watched. The minions were not faring much better than the last. Foolishly I assumed once more numbers could win, and they proved against that—the same tactic repeated is a tactic learned. And the massacre that followed was not the dwarfs that I thought would be weak and begging for peace after a restless night, never knowing when I would strike.
Perhaps I could send random minions to test their defenses through the night, but they'd proven more than once it would be meaningless.
The bird flew past the mirror, and my grin returned once more. It seemed my ace had arrived. And this time I noticed their surprise—and what joy it was to see it in their eyes as the bile rained down and in its wake, skeletons of dwarfs were all that was left.
I laughed to myself, enjoying the change. A few more passes like that and they would scatter and flee, ending this farce of a fight.
Yet before the bird could circle back and renew the bile-spewing flight, a volley of arrows exploded it harmlessly in the distance. If they were foolish and done so over their camp, it would have had a final blast strike over them, poisoning their camp even more. Yet… even in the distance I could see they'd salted the ground with ash? I felt it eat away the darkness and poison and lose whatever effect it might have had aiding in this fight.
I'd left them a wound indeed, but a victory for me?
No… far from that.
So this was twice they'd foiled me. I did not wish for a third strike and was unsure how to proceed when Tom spoke to the mirror.
"Let us send the knights, lord. Your beasts are powerful, no doubt, but lack finesse in understanding human enemies."
Let the people who trust me die? Or let the dwarfs claim victory…
I made a messenger minion from nothing to find Tom and let him know I agreed but wanted time to send them with the next wave. This time I would only make ground-ranged minions to have support fire while the knights advanced and controlled the battle.
They'd proven twice range strikes effective, so I would do the same. One of the knights—he recalled the name Eric? He was one of the first to openly embrace my change. He was not like other humans, even before the fall of the city.
He wanted to be a monster, and one he did become. Nowhere near as impressive as my behemoths, he still stood tall above all humans and double his mass. He was a bit lumbering, which worried me for his mobility, but it seemed he felt the same and reinforced his flesh to near steel. Other knights, seeing his form with awe, joined the change but to a lesser degree, wishing to keep more human forms.
It seemed when the fall of the city was taking place, they took that time to gain mass, killing the deserters and those rejecting my call. There was enough power to sate me many times over, so I cared little they gorged themselves in a feast. Especially now it would pay dividends and bear fruit with them being my final line needed.
Abaddon… Abaddon.
A soft voice lost in the wind? No, within the walls. Who? Why do I feel they know me?
The voice had a will and sensed me even through the altar. Since the altar was made from darkness of me, it flowed through it and into me? A presence, foreign, assaulted me.
I feared possession and almost shredded it within, but I felt with the lost voice a sense of peace, hope for understanding.
Abaddon.
The voice called once more, even within me, as if trying to find its way even being part of me. It reminded me of the time I was lost and broken, and Nora said she guided me back. Who is this soul that calls to me?
Does it matter? It cannot bind me and seems to be a wisp. Perhaps this is common for gods. Maybe this is why the light goddess chose isolation, not desiring such things.
The sun was high in the sky as the start of the new battle was being prepared once more. The dwarfs' tactic of waiting for my first move was distressing, but more in a mockery of not needing to act than any fear of me.
They bled. That was all I needed to know as my knight-monsters lined outside the walls, followed by my ranged troops—
The war horn blared once more.
Tsk.
It seemed they were done giving me time. I would have liked to have the formation forward march before— Yet they were not playing that much with me, I supposed. Beyond the wall was the battle line. They saw it as an act of war and met me as such.
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
The earth exploded around my knights, dirt and clouds of dust blasting skyward. My lesser minions, meant to be their rear support, were torn apart in sprays of darkness mixed with the dust, their formation shredded before the battle even started. But the steel-skinned knights only staggered, scattering for a heartbeat before rushing forward again, their charge unbroken—save for one, struck full-on by a shot, his body hurled into the wall of the castle, unmoving. Dead… or broken at best. I could not heal him with my darkness—too much magic swirled near to feel his existence, to know if I should even bother.
They were… mildly effective.
I would fear this was over before it even started if not for more minions being spared than fallen and returning the favor tenfold.
The hounds spat darkness with violent whumps, each orb streaking like a bullet and splattering against random dwarfs unaware of what was coming. Random cannons even started melting from the shots from the beasts. For a moment, the dwarfs seemed lost under the onslaught, defenders staggering as they shoved ash to neutralize the poisons. The lucky ones did. The unlucky ones' faces melted between the volley blasts.
Yet sadly, my joy at a turn of victory did not last. Soon shields came up and blocked against the fury of blasts, and the cannons resumed once more.
BOOM. BOOM.
Not as many blasts—they'd managed to take out at least one—but their precision and ability to adapt thinned the horde's numbers far faster than the dwarfs' numbers seemed to suffer for the attacks.
The knights finally closed the distance and leaped over the trenches and smashed the cannons with ease. Eric, the largest of them, grabbed the shards of one and flung it back, smashing into the trenches that tried to keep the men at bay, forcing the dwarfs to shift tactics as their shield wall was meaningless against their brute force.
Yet even as the knights focused the brunt of their attacks, a small subset drew crossbows and picked off my ranged minions, ending that threat.
The knights were the first to give the dwarfs pause—not mindless beasts and not easily felled with a swipe of a blade.
The weapons did still tear at their flesh, but they were not clean, easy kills. Both sides were being bled versus the easy victory they seemed to keep claiming before.
It took three to every one knight to keep their focus. Monsters turned they may be, but trained knights they were first. The tide seemed to be shifting in my favor as they tried to dance in range to whittle my men down and were surprised briefly they could extend their arms to increase their range.
The surprise did not last long as they shifted tactics to a mix of shield walls, ranged fire, and more dwarfs focusing them down.
The men were not just going to be singled out—grouping in pairs to reinforce their numbers and tactics. So a dance spun around with flying dwarfs being flung and my men being beaten down till their flesh finally bled.
Eric, the largest of them all, shifted one arm to a hulking snake and was devouring dwarfs whole. Yet it seemed that was a folly. Despite the ease with which he consumed them, something on their armor poisoned him within, staggering him down, allowing them to beat him with their blades till it tore at his flesh.
I watched as it seemed he was drunk and unable to focus from what dwarfs he'd consumed with his snake arm, which now lay limp, dead upon his arm.
They were too deep to call back, and I was too enraged to care. Would I need a fourth damn wave or more? How many times must I teach these insignificant things I AM A GOD!
No, Abaddon. Peace.
What? Who dares command me?
The voice within felt my intent and wanted me to cower, to bend to those who openly hunted and mocked me.
I was about to start making more minions, watching my knights fight valiantly but falling slowly, one after the other… when Tom spoke to the mirror, breaking my focus.
"Do not worry, my lord. We will not let these dwarfs shame you. We will fight for you till the last."
Fight for me? But… I wanted to save you? Right? Then… why did I choose war?
Is this what I've become? Is this what I want—all those that followed me to bleed for a war I did not even start?
No.20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡsPKI6twPb5
Perhaps they will listen. If not, then it's already been decided. I can keep sending legions. It is costing me now… but it's not a cost I cannot pay. The question is what happens when they send more, or if they have not been serious. I keep assuming I know, and so far it's been a loss.
So they win. And I lost. But my people will live.20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhcuL25CDJv
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