Austronesia Empire, Imperial Majahapit, Orc Camp, Shaman Tents.
1st Year of the New Age, New Sabbath, 3rd Week, 3rd Month of Abraham.
"Shit, we can't get through Squad Two," Riley whispered to the rest. "I think there is too much magic interference in the air here."
"So what now?" Price muttered. "Do we push forward or pull back?"
Riley considered his tactical options. They are currently deep in the middle of an entire Orc camp and surrounded not only by Orcs but by an army of undead too. If they get discovered, there will be almost no chances of escape.
Yet if they complete the mission, the Orcs would be crippled, their forces weakened, and the enemy's chances of breaking through significantly diminished.
"To hell with it," Riley growled, his decision made. "Burn it all down. Douse the tents with oil and set up every claymore we've got left."
Price and Polites exchanged grim smiles and nodded in agreement. They quickly soaked the crude hide tents with oil and positioned their experimental explosive shotgun shells close by. Riley placed his stores of claymores, two aimed at the tents, the other two covering the most likely points of attack.
He unrolled the spools of fuses and laid them beside the oil patches, making use of the flames later to serve as a delayed trigger for the explosives.
"Ready?" he asked. The others nodded. "Get to cover."
Riley moved silently through the camp, eyes scanning for any movement, until he spotted a brazier burning dimly in the distance.
Seeing no one looking in his direction, he dropped the remaining spool of det cord into the fire, and quickly sprinted away to where the rest of his men went.
The spool of det cord suddenly burst into flames, causing the brazier to flare brightly, kicking up sparks and showers of embers into the night sky, and a tiny flame raced down the trailing cord, charging towards the pool of oil at the back of the tents.
————————————————————————
"Yer kan't find 'da Elder's spirit?" Jiak asked in surprise at the three hooded Shamans gathered in front of him. "Did yer try all ways?"
"Yes, Warleader, we did," the lead Shaman replied with a deep bow. "We've searched through every method, there was no trace uv his Spirit 'n 'da physical plane."
"How about 'da Spirit Walkers?" Jiak asked after he got over his shock. "Can dey be kontrolled now 'dat da Elda iz not ere?"
"We can manage," the Shaman said confidently. "While we might not be as powerful as da Elder, we'll share control among ourselves." He offered the Hand greeting before leaving Jiak to his thoughts.
Jiak's expression darkened. "Summon Orth ere now!" Jiak shouted out from his seat inside his tent to his warriors outside, and shortly after, the flaps of the tent lifted up and a heavyset Orc stepped inside.
"Warleader," Orth greeted, raising his hand in the traditional salute.
"Did yer find anythn' 'n yer search?" Jiak asked with his eyes narrowed.
"No, Warleader. Even 'da squigs kould not find any trace uv 'da 'umiez," Orth replied.
Jiak's fists clenched. "Find them! Dey kilt da Elda right unda our noses! This iz a disgrace ta the warband! We must find im an' make im wish dey were neva born!"
Orth nodded, "I will kontinue da search for da soft skins den."
"Go," Jiak waved him off, already lost in thought, pondering how to explain the Elder's death to the Great Warboss.
Outside, the Shamans gathered before their tents and started chanting and the beat of their bone drums echoed with a rhythm that made the bones of those listening nearby ache. The Orcs kept their distance and cast wary glances as they passed. Slowly, the area in front of the Shamans cleared, and one by one, the dead began to rise, drawn by the Shamans' call.
Satisfied, the three Shamans split, each taking command of a portion of the undead. Inwardly, they felt no sorrow for the Elder's demise. In fact, they felt happy.
The position of Elder had been occupied for many many generations, and the other Shamans had long been unhappy with the fact that the Elder's use of forbidden dark arts to prolong his life, especially his practice of transferring his soul into captured elf slaves when his decaying body failed him.
Now, at last, the coveted role of Elder was vacant.
Just as the three Shamans were thinking of plans and schemes against each other, vying for the coveted position of Elder, a nearby brazier erupted violently, sending sparks and embers into the sky. Startled, they turned toward the fire and the sudden brightness blinded their night vision and prevented them from seeing the fuse that snaked its way toward the back of their tents.
A flicker of light soon appeared among the tents, and the realization hit them all at once.
"Fire!" they yelled, panic seizing their voices. "Fire!" The Shamans watched helplessly as flames licked the sides of the tents. "Our scrolls! Our artifacts!" they shouted, frantically calling for their followers and apprentices to douse the flames and save their precious relics.
As they dashed back into the tents, one Shaman broke away, glancing over his shoulder to make sure that the others hadn't noticed him. He ran toward the largest tent, which belonged to the Elder's, hoping to salvage whatever treasures had been left behind. But before he could even reach the entrance, a makeshift explosive of shotgun shells detonated.
The blast rocked the camp, drawing every Orc's attention to the Shamans' tents. Those nearby stood frozen, stunned by the sudden explosion, making them wonder what was going on.
Unbeknownst to the camp, two claymores had been rigged as their detonations were set by a carefully timed fuse. Riley had calculated ten minutes, and as the Shamans and their apprentices were inside the tents confused with the earlier explosion, the special blend of black powder and mana stone dust shaped charge blew, each releasing a deadly volley of 700 ball bearings into the tents.
The materials of the tents had been reinforced by magic, designed to withstand both physical and magical attacks. But the constant strain of the fire was draining the barrier, and the initial explosion had already weakened the defenses. The ball bearings punched through what was left of the shield, tore through the thick animal hide, and with a ferocious force, turned the inside of the tents into a slaughterhouse. Blood sprayed in every direction as the occupants were shredded by the hail of metal.
Another five minutes after the first wave of claymores that went off, the Orcs that arrived on scene to investigate and put out the growing fire were cut down by the last two claymores placed in strategically located positions to cover any attempt at rescue. The second explosion sent even the undead, gathered by the Shamans, crashing lifelessly to the ground.
Jiak who came rushing over to find out what had happened in his camp managed to witness first hand his warriors were reduced to nothing more than blood mist as they were vaporized by the second wave of claymore mines.
"Wha-?" He stood paralyzed, feeling shocked at the sudden deaths of over twenty strong and powerful Orc warriors as they lay in pieces before him, and to further pour salt in his wounds, the gathered undead suddenly collapsed bonelessly into heaps of bone and flesh onto the ground with hardly any sound, as their connection with anchor were severed.
"FIND 'DA 'UMIEZ NOW! I WILL RIP 'DA SKIN OFF, TEAR DERE BONES OUT AN' MAKE IM WATCH BEFORE DIGG'N OUT DERE EYES!"
————————————————————————
[-ore Actual co-in over! This - Squad -wo!] Riley barely made out Mason's choppy voice through the static of his comms. [Scion Actual here! Can you hear me?]
[-nk god! -tual, -nal is bad,] came Mason's reply in Riley's helmet. [If you can hear me, rendezvous back at Rally Point Alpha now!]
The forest around them seemed to come alive in the wake of the claymore blasts. Following that, Riley and his team could hear something roaring in the distance, likely from the direction of the Orc camp.
"Belinski, do you copy?" Riley switched frequencies, calling for Squad One's leader.
[I copy,] Belinski's voice came in loud and clear.
"Get to Command. Tell them the Necromancer threat has been eliminated completely."
As they retreated, Riley noticed more undead collapsing, meaning they must have destroyed something important.
"Tell Command we need immediate extraction!" Riley ordered. "The Orcs are VERY pissed off with us!"
Suddenly, the deep rumble of engines cut through the night, followed by another and another.
[Oh shit! Their pets must've picked up our scent! And they're using our vehicles!]
"Run!" Riley shouted as the sound of heavy footsteps and revving engines grew louder behind them. "Go!"
Glancing back, Riley's night vision picked up a hulking dark green shape, which revealed to be a spiky Orcish vehicle with its lights glaring through the trees. Alongside it were a couple of two-legged beasts, each carrying an Orc rider.
Immediately, Riley pivoted his aim and squeezed the trigger of the AF-2. Upon firing, the silenced pops of his weapon accompanied by muzzle flashes, momentarily clouding his vision with smoke.
Several of his mana-infused mithril rounds managed to pierce the tires of the spiked vehicle, stopping the spiky car the Orcs rode.
In the same instant, the two-legged creatures flinched and their riders cried out in surprise as the beasts crashed headlong into a tree, and the Orcs were thrown from their saddles like broken toys. One of the creatures sat back on its hind legs and shook its head, clearly dazed from the impact.
Seizing the opportunity, Riley switched to his shotgun and unleashed two explosive rounds at the beast. The blasts rocked the creature, sending it crashing to the ground.
Without pausing, Riley turned and sprinted, knowing there was one less enemy vehicle on the chase, but more were surely on their way.
————————————————————————
Watching the human escape into the distance, the biggest Orc in the driver's seat slammed his fists against the wheel in pure frustration.
"Why won't dis fing work?!" he roared angrily as he continued bashing the steering wheel, oblivious to the fact that one of the tires had been flattened by the gunfire.
"Uh... Zog, I fink we're outta gas," muttered a smaller Orc from the backseat.
"Wot are ya sayin'? I filled 'da gas tank a few moons ago! Been ridin' dis fing every day an' night since. Gas ain't empty!"
The other Orcs scratched their chins, nodding thoughtfully as they considered the big Orc's logic. After a long moment of silence, they all agreed.
"Oh yeah, yer did do dat!"
As if by some strange magic, the vehicle managed to drive forward again, not knowing either their tires were flattened or their gas had probably already run out long ago.