Ari ran over to him, killing a few glicks on his way. "Seems as though we might die today after all," Ari said, severing a glick's head. "A pity that I won't be the one to kill you," Gorm said, thrusting his sword into another's neck. "Likewise," Ari replied with a grin as they stood back to back, dealing with the creatures as they came.
The other soldiers were starting to learn the glicks' attack patterns, and more than a few of them were becoming adept at slaying the beasts. Off in the distance, a deep, rumbling roar came from behind the boulders. "That can't be good," Ari said. "Not one bit," Gorm replied, slaying the last monster in front of him.
The ground began to tremble even more than it had before, and the two men looked out over the small river of glicks and corpses. "Fuck me, not more of them," Gorm said. "More of what?" Ari asked. "Trolls," Gorm snarled, making Ari's eyes open wide when he finally saw them.
"Yarathea, be with us," he muttered breathlessly, observing the lumbering creatures approach. "Retreat!" he called back. The soldiers began to move away from the boulder as the ground shook beneath their feet. The glicks began to pour in, as the trolls forced their way through the pile of the smaller creatures. "Get back, you idiots," Gorm shouted to his men and the Harutians around them.
They had almost fully retreated to the shelf in the pass when one of the trolls smashed through the boulder, releasing a stream of glicks and daemons. "Up to our necks in shit now. Run!" Gorm shouted, realizing that the horde was no longer being funneled.
The trolls smashed through the rocks and began to charge in behind the glicks. They covered more ground in less time than the glicks, and began crushing soldiers into little more than bloodied mounds of flesh. Screams of terror and fear resounded from the army, while some had dropped their weapons in fear.
There was little that could save them, after all.
The trolls took care of the soldiers above, as the glicks began to overpower them with their numbers, making their way down the pass and killing all who stood before them. Bashir was still up on his rock, watching the slaughter ensue. His eyes welled with tears for his fallen men, and he knew then that this may be their end.
"It could be worse," Gwili said from behind him. "How could it be worse?" Bashir asked, feeling distraught at the thought of his men dying and his revenge on Truls failing. "My men have been squashed into bloodied pulps by the ice and fire trolls, while the glicks are overpowering the others like ants to sugar," he continued.
"You have not lived as long as I have, so you'd better believe me when I say that it can always be worse," he said grimly. The two watched the slaughter continue, listening to the screams of the men and women beneath them being trampled and mauled. A fire troll spat molten rock over a group of soldiers, who melted away instantly.
"No!" Bashir exclaimed, watching his men smolder, the smoke from their burned bodies reaching his nostrils and causing his breakfast to pour out from between his teeth.
"Why do you not give us aid?" he growled to the elf. "Even if I had had my men place every arrow with the precision we elves are famous for, it wouldn't even have made a dent in this large of a force," Gwili explained. "So you will abandon us?" Bashir asked, desperately looking at Gwili with bloodshot eyes.
"It's nothing personal. Just know that I hope you die well," Gwili said grimly. He crept back down the boulder and was off into the bushes, leaving Bashir alone atop the boulder.
Bashir turned away from the fleeing elf to observe the battle. Many had fallen, and he could see his army on the uphill slope of the trail being overrun by glicks. "This is it, this is the force that will bring about the world's end," he said quietly. He watched the battle for another moment, listening to the sounds of his men fighting to their deaths.
He turned away and slumped behind the top of the boulder, placing his hands on his head.
I have sent my men on a suicide mission out of anger for Bashaa, bringing more death and destruction upon my kingdom, he thought as the battle raged on behind him.
My dearest Bashaa, I have failed to avenge your death, but I know that by the end of this day, we shall be together in the afterlife. I pray that you will welcome me with open arms, regardless of my failure as a father and broken promise to always keep you safe, he gritted his teeth, and gripped his sword tightly as he made his way down the rock.
He dropped off the edge of the rock and peered out from behind the corner, seeing the death and devastation the horde was leaving in its wake. "By Yarathea," he muttered, pushing his back against the wall to take a few deep breaths.
If there's no way out for any of us, then I have no choice but to accept my fate and pray that my son looks upon me proudly, as that is one of the only things a father could ever wish for from his children, he closed his eyes and sighed.
"Here and now, I will honor him, my forefathers, and my country. Let my sword sing with death and carry me onward into the afterlife," he muttered, tears beginning to stream down his face as he accepted his fate.
He stepped out from behind the corner of the rock, spreading his arms wide and roaring in a challenge that would have sent fear into the Undergod's heart.
To my wife, I hope you find solace in knowing that I died well, he gritted his teeth and prepared for the incoming attacks.
A few of the glicks saw him and began to charge towards him. He cut them down, one by one, removing limbs from bodies, and releasing a river of green blood that flowed around his feet. He continued screaming loudly, hacking down the horrid creatures, not even watching their limp bodies fall. He was keen on killing as many as possible in the time he had left.
To my sons, whom I will soon meet, I pray that you welcome me with open arms, embracing me in death as you did in life, he thought, slicing through the head of another.
The glicks began to circle around him as he looked into their grim faces. They snarled and squealed at him, some flicking their scales in challenge. "I will make you wish you had never been brought into this world," he growled threateningly. The glicks flicked their scales in unison, and he knew that his next breath might be his last.