We All Die But Not All Enjoy a Good Drink
We don't care if you won, we lost; we don't care if you lost, we won.
What we do care about is how you fought and if you're willing to talk afterwards. It's only after ya bleed we will listen, for we cannot trust a man who has not shed blood—that is life.
My men may die swinging, you may take my life, but we will fight and drink and swing all the way down, for we cannot raise our glass high in pride if we lower it to anything less.
—The way of dwarfs, understanding war
The Day Before - Dwarf Side
The march was filled with joy, the barrels full of their finest drinks, weapons blessed with a mix of nature ash as well as extra just to be safe—even spread into their armor.
This wasn't their first dance with death, and even if it was their last, it'd be a good death. King Mog watched his men, all in good spirits—a mix of hard working and goofing off, but one horn blare away from a front line ready for blood. Made him proud.
He slapped a nearby dwarf who was starting to slack a little too much. "YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE SCOUTING... WHERE'S NELL TO COVER YOUR LAZY ASS?"
He wanted eight scouts at all times covering each point of a compass, so even if a few got a little drunk and bleary-eyed, there were always eyes... But this one here was slacking off too much, and it meant they weren't taking it serious.
"THIS IS A FIGHT YOU WANNA FIGHT—YOU NEED TO BE WATCHING OR THEY WILL BITE OUR ASS..."
They were good men, just needed a little push to remember they weren't home and were facing an unknown darkness. They didn't think it was a new god—far as they knew there was only one and it was a goddess. But monsters had come from somewhere, and if it was the one breeding them and finally showed?
It meant the champion of light pissed 'em off good and came out swinging... Why the idiot hit them first was unknown. Maybe that was the point—to see if we sit on our ass or face them.
"Oy lord, thinking something's coming from the capital we're heading to," one of the scouts informed him.
He just saw a blob in the sky and wondered if it was the rum hitting him—it really was a good batch—but he'd seen spots before and he'd seen beasts, and this was not a drunk vision.
"LINE UP FORMATION FOUR, BE READY TO KEEP MOVING!" Formation four was hold the line with range fire but keep camp ready to move, no defenses—not the best for fighting, but good for low threats that needed dealt with at range but wasn't requiring more tactics.
Guess the new lord was tired of waiting for them. He hated the delay, but he wasn't going to greet a new lord half-assed, so he'd give him a worthy show. "Take 'em down! The lord's testing our resolve and showing us what he's got—it's his way of showing he's looking for a fight, boys."
They lined up the cannon hoping for an easy hit, but a series of crossbows lined up for the follow-up.
"Two pints say you ain't hitting shit," the king mocked the cannoneer, who got a grim look lining it up.
"You kidding? The daft thing just floats there—I'd have to be pissing myself to miss."
BOOM.
The bird panicked more than reacted to the shot, barely alerted to the noise as the shot nearly skimmed it.
The king laughed even as the follow-up shots flew true and downed it easy enough. "TWO PINTS FROM YOUR SORRY ASS!"
"I NEVER AGREED AND IT WAS A FLUKE! YOU SAW MY AIM CLEAR AND TRUE!"
The bickering was short-lived as they got mobile once more. They studied the darkness of what remained, surprised it had no true flesh—monsters weren't normally like that. Was he evolving them to new types for war? Hmm.
Even the puddle that remained smelled of poison. They threw ash to be safe, and sure enough it fled at its touch, so it was proof the darkness did not like nature magic. Good to know.
They reached the castle with plenty of light, yet no soldiers met them? Were they giving us time to set up? Very kind!
"WE'RE GOOD BOYS, SET UP CAMP—IT'LL BE AN AMBUSH LATER."
A greenhorn, unsure, pushed past a few men to greet him. "Uh sir, how do you know? It could be a trap?"
"You daft? What trap?" He slapped him for the stupidity. "HE KNOWS WE'RE HERE AND LETTING US SETTLE—A NIGHT BATTLE OR DAWN, BUT IT'LL HAPPEN THEN."
Rubbing his head, the dwarf wasn't convinced. "Uh, he could send a volley anytime, no?"
"And why would he do that? You not listening? LOOK AT HIS WALL, BOY!"
The dwarf looked unsure what he was supposed to see beyond the open gate and darkness—there was nothing?
"NOW YOU KNOW!" The dwarf was a bit red-faced being shamed, so he relented.
"He's testing us as we're testing him, son. He's letting us settle and will send a force. Now, he may be a pissy lord and we bleed to the last, but that's how we learn who we're fighting."
He slapped the man back, hard. "Did you come here to fight or cry?"
"Fight, sir."
"AND YOU GOING TO CRY IF ANYONE DIES?"
The dwarf shook his head, not trusting his voice.
The king felt bad—he thought he'd brought his best and a few untested at worst. This one might be a bit too green.
"We got one rule and you should know it well: we live to drink and drink to live, but to enjoy a drink you need to fight, and to fight you got to have guts to bleed, and if you're going to fight and bleed... YOU BETTER BE GETTING PAID!"
He slapped the dwarf, laughing, and the dwarf laughed back as a few more joined in, pushing him as he pushed back. He looked at the wall while his men prepared and knew:
We all bleed and die, but who really lives? So tell me, O lord, do you live? Or are you fearing the unseen... Because we're here now.
Nightfall - Wave One
The rum warmed him and the shift reported nothing unseen, but he wasn't worried. His blade was polished and he felt it in his bones—soon. He drank the last bit and pushed a man beside him to get him to focus, sensing a lull in his laughter.
"No dozing, fool—blood's gonna be spilled. How much of your arse depends on if you move your ass."
He scouted the area in the torch light, the castle a marriage of shadows almost unseen if not staring right at it, yet they were still ready. Trenches dug in cover of night, cannons and weapons spread out depending on type needed. Cannons were to be their opener—break whatever they bring while the men clean up what's left. Shield walls as needed, but he didn't know his tactics, so keeping it simple for now: blow stuff up, see what's left.
In the middle of his third walk down the line making sure all was well, he heard a cough and sputter followed by choking words: "They're COUGH coming cough forward cough..."
It was enough—he knew the drunk bastard's words well enough. No sneak attack, well beyond coming under cover of night, at least so it seems.
"FORMATION TWO! MOVE YOUR ASSES!"
Formation two: direct attack on our positions, hold the line, be ready for surprises.
"FLARE THE SKIES, YEA DAFT WATER SUCKERS—WE NEED SIGHT... AND READY THE CANNON! STOP PISSING OVER THERE, HOLD IT IN..."
He could vaguely see flowing shadows but was unsure if it was the walls of the city or more...
Till the skies turned alive and a sea of shadow monsters flinched at the unknown light.
Fools hesitate.
As the cannon fire let loose with his laughter and their surprise:
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
Good hits scattered their numbers and broke a lot of them, but a lot were too small for it to be very effective, so he ordered them to stop and not waste the ammo—they had enough men, let's see what these things could do.
Yet even as they were easily cut down, this wave was numerous but shredded easy enough. A sound made him question if this first assault was a ruse till the big one showed:
ROAR.
Like an overgrown ugly mutt with many tails, it frenzied the little runts—they bit and clawed more fiercely, but it wasn't the first hound they'd taken down.
They'd fought rot slugs worse than this—mean buggers when they learned to skim the surface and spread the rot since it was so pure from their flesh it tended to be as bad as the poison field in this city. Maybe that's what happened—he kept a few back to spread the rot?
A solid defense, he supposed, but fire can cleanse the rot if handled with care, and it burns away easy in time, so it's not a perfect defense.
And that's not even mentioning how were the living among it?
The beast broke his wandering thoughts, slamming into the cannon near him and crushing the one trying to line a shot. He went to ready a swing and was knocked back as four dwarfs took his spot.
He recovered easy enough—the armor blunted the attack—but the tails were still piercing his men.
They tried deflecting or shielding where they could, but if it wasn't for the precaution of nature magic, this beast could have torn through half his men trying to counter.
Yet they did prepare, and this was still an overgrown mutt—no tactics, just mindlessly grabbing who was close while others bit axes or bolts into its flesh.
Between the men being pulled back, he shouted to the nearby units trying to line up another shot past the trenches: "FOCUS ON THIS BEAST! GET THE ROPE SO I CAN BRING HIM DOWN! MOVE IT!"
The tails seemed to lose their effectiveness after a few more random strikes and counters from his men. Now the ropes followed, trying to pull it down. He rushed in and rode on top as it still tried to flail, refusing to kneel or calm down.
"HAHA! YOU GOT SOME FIGHT BUT YOU'RE GOING DOWN NOW!"
He held his hand axe with one hand and rope wrapped, holding him with the other. Jerked around, took him a minute to line his shot lest he cut the rope and fling himself off.
Yet a few strikes later and the flow of darkness blood proved they won this fight. Still expecting more flesh, it seemed they won the first volley and wondered if there'd be more?
Silence met their cheer, so they waited. The lord spilled blood and they did the same, but they were sure he held back just as they did and were prepared for the next volley right after they enjoyed this drink.
Dawn - Wave Two
The sun barely rose and with it so did his eyes. He was mildly drunk or mildly sober depending who you asked or his mood. He felt the lord let them rest—though they still rotated shifts, they could fight three days with no sleep if needed. Hell, they'd done so before on a good night—five days before on a bad night.
As if on cue, the war horn blared and he swelled with pride—his men were ready and had earned their drink. The greenhorn from the night before didn't make it, but that was fine. Death comes to us all, and he died a dwarf in battle—he could give him no better end.
Hmm, the same tactics? No. This was too easy—he was trying to lull them into a sense of false security.
Yet they slaughtered them easy, already knowing their type and how they acted. He was expecting another overgrown hound, maybe two? That would at least be something, but no...
Wait... A bird? Again?
They'd shot it down easy enough last time and it did nothing. As he started to shout to prepare a volley, it was flying faster than he'd expected, lost in morning thoughts.
Yet it was different—it did not screech or try to carry away his men. No, it blew bile in a sea, and everywhere it touched, only dwarf melting into a puddle mass remained. Even the armor was being eaten, which surprised him. "TAKE IT DOWN YOU FOOLS LEST YOU WANT TO ROT LIKE YOUR BROTHERS IN A SEA OF PISS!"
The arrows were ready soon after—the angle was off for cannon fire, but I needed it down now lest it tear through our numbers. There was a chance we could raise shields and deflect it, but I won't be betting a hair on my ass it won't soak through and dissolve us anyway. It's good the lord's escalating—it shows he sees us as a true threat.
It popped, exploding the bile into a sea, raining down harmlessly in the distance. He ordered men to salt the earth with ash regardless—as the bile here from last strike was nauseating even just being near, but the nature ash cleaned it up easy enough. They lost men, but nothing they didn't expect from this brawl. The lord proved he could adapt, but it seemed he was slow learning if that's all he was willing to show them. Maybe it was just a wake-up call?
An hour passed with them on high alert before boredom set in. It seemed he was not ending it and giving them a chance to prepare for whatever he sent next, so they settled and ate, laughing over the scars they'd gained and the fame they'd won while others complained they didn't get a kill.
Late Day - Wave Three
He was about to shout if that was it—get his ass out here and end it proper. Giving them time was all well and good, but it was bordering on insult with the way he was taking it. He assumed this next wave would be his last and he would bloody them good, or sulk and get serious—then they'd have to decide if he was worth trading with.
And as if to mock them more, the next wave finally showed and was casually marching out and took their time even getting into formation. By the goddess, that was sloppy—unless it was another trap.
Tired of waiting, if this was his best he wanted to see it, so he flagged a man down to blow the horn.
"FORMATION ONE!"
Formation one: hold the line and expect the worst—no retreat, no surrender.
The enemy didn't look impressive, well except for one ugly big one. Part beast? No, they're all beast-human? Or monsters... Didn't matter.
The horn blew loud and proud, letting them know where they stood.
The cannon fire followed soon after—if he wanted to make them wait, they were going to give him a show. Let's see what these things could handle.
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
At first he only noticed the human-type monsters, but it seemed it was mixed in with little mutts? They were broken easy with the cannon fire, and though the human types were much smarter, dodging the blasts, he was mildly surprised they held under the blast that should have shook them. Instead it seemed to focus them as they rushed.
A volley of blobs also soon followed, surprising him—that had never happened before, and they were fast.
A few men, unlucky, were hit. The area was much smaller but the force still staggered them, and the screams when it hit the flesh proved it was not to be underestimated.
So this was why he held back—to show this was going to get serious.
"DON'T BE STUPID, BOYS! SHIELDS UP! WOUNDED GET DOWN! GET THE ASH ON THEM BEFORE THEY MELT! MOVE YOUR ASSES! RETURN FIRE! I SAID FORMATION ONE..."
BOOM. BOOM.
Damn, seemed they managed to destroy a cannon—those weren't cheap, the bastard.
A sea of men flew past the trenches. Not that it surprised him—he didn't expect them to wait to be bled. This was a proper war fight. Let's see what they brought as he rushed them.
They held... And held... The bastards HELD! He swung with the best of them, and even with no blade they pushed him back. But a dwarf's not a fool, and in a brawl even when it's every man for himself, there's always one rule they follow: help your brother take down the other man before you swing at each other.
And swing they did. It amazed him it took four of them just to match one of them, but they did it. It was more the lack of being able to focus than sheer force overwhelming them. Even then, they took the hits and barely bled. If they were smarter and wielded a blade, he feared even his head would be gone and he'd be dead, none the wiser how this would end.
Even the biggest monstrosity among them was a force to fear—bastard had a snake for a hand and devoured Luu whole. He still owed him coin.
An arm extended far beyond what should be able to reach and smashed his chest as he flew back. What the hell—they could shift body parts?
How deadly could they be if they were a little smarter and wielded a weapon? Well, their loss—let him show them their folly in thinking like a beast.
"SUB FORMATION TWO!"
Not all fights could have a single formation, and not all actions needed all to change tactics, so sub formations existed. Sub formations tended to be whoever led that battalion to make that call, and his team would shift to adjust to the new threat.
Formation two in this context was hold the line and suppressing fire. The lines shifted from trying to match their brute strength to keeping them held back while they fired at range. They loved a good brawl, but they weren't going to go into the jaws of the beast just to see if they could handle a bite.
The knights still knocked them around. Lucky they'd long since taken out their supporting fire so they could focus on the enemies in their camp. The one with the snake arm was the greatest challenge—he kept knocking shields away, taking shots and eating dwarfs whole. Where in the goddess he was storing the poor bastards he consumed, he would never know, but what spared them was the armor was coated in nature ash—a fail-safe to keep beasts off their flesh.
It seemed consuming the poor bastards made him sick, yet even then their decisive slashes—his flesh resisted the wounds. Even the other knights might be able to turn the tide if there were a few more and if they wielded weapons.
But there weren't, so it ended in their slow win, and nothing but pride was felt at this victory.
Would the lord end it here? Three strikes was more than fair to show what you could do, and any more would be proof he wouldn't barter and just wanted to bleed them.
So they waited to see if they'd drink tonight to a good fight, or maybe dance one last time as they saw if a dark lord could bleed.18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbR3zjiPhHA
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