Alsherok

Thingal looked around at the small band of men in chain mail standing in a small group near the tower. The war with the orcs had been going badly for some time, and this group of about twenty was all that remained of his former command of a hundred infantrymen. If someone didn't do something rather quickly, the orcs were going to overwhelm the defenders outside the city, and then Midgaard would really have a problem, thought the captain. Sighing, he ordered his men to get ready to march. Outnumbered or not, Midgaard still had a war to win, and he and his troops were going to play a large part in it, though they had no idea of the fact.

Quickly and quietly, the small band of men crept up to the entrance to the cave. Inside, they could just see a massive shape, slowly moving up and down in the darkness, breathing. Edging closer, the humans could see more shapes, also sleeping, spaced around the cavern. Producing a small wand, one of them moved even closer to the shapes. Fingering the thing, the man whispered a command word, and suddenly, all the shapes started moving, waking up, and moving towards the group at the entrance to the cave...

"By Rinoth! They should be back by now!" Stormed Gulhorath Tajnor, King of Midgaard.

"Have patience, my Lord. The warriors will return soon enough, along with the weapons with which to win the war against the orcs. The wand I gave them will prove to be ample to bend the dragons to our will. With the dragons, it should prove child's play to fly over the orc's encampment, destroying all of the creatures we come across. It shall be a great victory, one that will live in the history books forever."

"I KNOW that Uktal, but I still worry. Without the dragons, our city is doomed. The orcs have but to break through our lines outside the city, and they will easily be able to storm the walls. Our entire army is camped out there, with barely anyone left inside. I do not wish to be the King who led his people to death and ruin at the hands of the orcs!" thundered the King, slamming his hand down on the arm of the royal throne. "You can see the fires from the top of the walls, the damn things are so close!"

"Yes my Lord, I know these things, as well as you, but the dragons will solve everything. Wait and see." Uktal Yorthlagoss spoke a few words, and a small shimmering window appeared in thin air. The wizard motioned to the figures in the picture. "See, my Lord? Our warriors are even now mounting the dragons for the return home. All will be well, wait and see..."

Grokth hefted his sword. Looking around, the orcish general surveyed his troops. In his center was a massive regiment of orcish archers, each armed with a large bow that was capable of killing a man at long range. In front of them was a long, thin line of goblin light infantry, each armed with a short sword and dressed in hide or leather armor. To each flank was a large phalanx of orcish spearmen and swordsmen, each dressed in chainmail, and carrying either a large spear or a large sword. The front rank of each phalanx held long scaling ladders, the better to make it over the walls of Midgaard. In the rear were stationed a number of crude catapults, each with a good supply of rocks, and baskets full of arrows, to shower on the defenders of the walls. In front of the main gate was a large battering ram, carried by massive trolls from the southern swamps. Behind them were more trolls. These, unlike the battering ram trolls, were dressed in massive suits of chainmail, and each carried a huge shield and a massive axe. With a grunt, Grokth gestured to his standard bearer, who lowered and raised the banner of the orcs, a black skull on a red background, three times in rapid succession. At the signal, the catapults let loose, raining boulders on the walls, and the battering ram moved towards the gate to the city. The archers also let loose, showering the walls with arrows. However, the humans on the walls were returning fire. The battering ram crew each took a number of arrows, but these hardly slowed them. The flaming pitch, however, did. Two of the hulking trolls, covered in the flaming goo, rushed around, screaming horribly before falling to the ground and dying. More trolls from the reserve rushed to take their place, however, and the attack continued. Grokth gestured to the standard bearer again, and the banner rose and fell again.

Thingal watched the charge of the orcish horde from behind an arrow slit. The front ranks were halfway to the walls when the defending archers opened fire, releasing a cloud of arrows that scythed through the onrushing horde, decimating the front ranks, and almost stopping it cold. With a shout from the general, however, the orcs got moving again, the rear ranks picking up ladders and rushing towards the walls. The archers managed to cut down some more, but this time, the orcs made it, and raised the ladders. Thingal motioned to his men. "Come on, troops, let's go clear out some of those scum out there." Unsheathing his sword, Thingal stepped out of the tower, and immediately ran into a large orc with a sword. Parrying the thrust, he moved to cut down the orc, but a boulder from one of the orcish catapults fell from the sky, smashing into the orc and carrying him off the wall into a house, leaving a gaping hole. Thingal didn't waste a glance at the jellied orc, but immediately moved to another orc, who was about to plunge his spear into the back of one of his troops. Just before the orc thrust, Thingal struck, hitting the orc in the neck, and carrying its head off. Unfortunately, his sword got stuck in the orc, and Thingal watched helplessly as the orc fell off the wall, carrying his sword with it. Hearing a grunt behind him, Thingal turned to watch an orcish spear descending towards him. Dodging to the side, Thingal felt the spear graze his side, leaving a line across his ribs. The orc grinned evilly and began to thrust again, and Thingal rolled to the side again, but this time he ran out of wall, and fell into a cart full of hay. Snatching a spear from a dead orc, he cast, and the orc on the wall fell off the opposite side of the wall, clutching his throat. Grabbing a fallen sword, Thingal set off toward the gate, seeking to get back on the wall. Just as he reached it, a huge crash resounded, and the trollish battering ram team charged through the ruined gate, slashing with claws and biting anything they could reach. Behind them came the trollish reserves, each swinging a huge axe, each blow cleaving a human in half. Ducking behind a house, Thingal took cover, and watched as the trolls swept through the human defenses, killing everything in their path...

Grissinotharlogthos the black looked down on the pitiful human encampment before him. The speck wouldn't even be of any notice to the ancient wyrm, but the man with the rod had commanded him and his fellows to fly here, so fly they did. Looking back, Grissinotharlogthos could see a huge flight of dragons, at least a hundred, of all sizes from the young to the truly ancient. They were of all colors, too. Gold put off fighting with red and blue with silver to fly here, under the command of the Rodholder, who flew on Grissinotharlogthos' back. Looking down again, the huge black dragon could see something interesting. Some of those puny orcs were swarming all over the place, and along with them, some trolls. Oh yes, this was bound to be interesting, indeed...

Thingal ducked behind a doorway, just as a trollish axe hit it, chopping the door in half. Ducking quickly, the human dodged aside, and grabbed a torch from the wall, and shoved it into the face of the troll, struggling to get its axe free of the shattered door. The troll screamed in pain, and fell back, and Thingal pressed his attack, hacking with his sword, and plunging the torch into the wounds. The blood of the troll hissed and bubbled, and the troll finally stopped thrashing and screaming, and lay still. Thingal, hefting his torch, ran on, bumping into a throng of fleeing guardsmen. "You there! Stop running like cowards! You can fight! The trolls die, just as the orcs do! Neither are invincible! Just grab a torch, or some other fire, and they die just as easy as anything else!"

"Yeah, but how do you expect us to get close enough to the troll to get him with the torch?" screamed one of the fleeing guardsmen. "their axes can cut us in half long before..." The guard stopped, and Thingal looked in the direction he was staring, just in time to see a huge glob of acid streak from the mouth of a huge black dragon, hitting a group of trolls and dissolving them into a little smoking, pitted, bubbling pool. On its back was a man in the livery of a Midgaardish guardsman, brandishing a large wooden rod, carved with dragons. Behind the black, other dragons were flying all over the place, and massive gouts of flame and bolts of lightning crashed into the orcish forces, decimating them. Before his eyes, Thingal witnessed a group of orcish troops get turned into a large pile of flaming torches by a massive red, and a blue destroy the battering ram with a well-placed lightning bolt. Then, as the man with the rod raised it to command the dragons to destroy another part of the horde, an arrow from an orcish bow flew into his face, catching him in an eye and toppling him from the back of the huge black he was riding. Landing in the river, he started floating downstream, and his rod with him.

Grissinotharlogthos started. What had he been thinking? He remembered sleeping in his lair, and then all of a sudden, he smelled humans, but before he could eat them, one of them waved some sort of stick, and he suddenly felt like being their friend... The great black roared his displeasure in being tricked by a bunch of puny manlings, and with a great breath, he breathed a great geyser of acid that smashed into the city wall, melting a huge hole in it. All around him, other dragons were coming to their senses, too, and like him, were taking out their rage on the defenseless humanoids below them. Grissinotharlogthos grinned a horrible toothy grin, and started chasing a group of humans. Catching them, he swooped past them, and caught one in his jaws. Flying past a tower, he spit the human out hard enough to knock a hole in the side of the thick wall. He suddenly caught sight of a group of humans, dressed in black and gold, holding swords, and wearing frightened expressions on their faces. All except one. He swooped down on them, thinking about how foolish they were not to run.

"OK men, here it comes. Get ready........NOW!" Thingal's men let loose with a hail of spears at the huge black wyrm swooping down on them. A few of the comparatively tiny projectiles actually stuck into the dragon, causing it to blink in annoyance. "Um... everyone RUN! NOW!" Thingal's troops obeyed instantly, scattering in all directions. All except Thingal. He stood his ground, waiting for the dragon to close. Grissinotharlogthos obliged, swooping down upon the puny human fool standing in his path. He breathed a glob of acid at the human, but the blasted thing managed to dodge, damn him!

Thingal leaped out of the way of the acid, just in time to avoid being melted where he stood. Even so, he still had smoking boots when he stood up. The dragon slowed, and came around for another pass. As it neared him, Thingal suddenly leaped up on a cart, and jumped onto the dragon's foot, and began to climb upwards.

Grissinotharlogthos snarled. The human still hadn't died! And now it was actually climbing HIM! Grissinotharlogthos, the King of Wyrms! Greatest of all the dragons in the world! The great black dragon quickly gained altitude and flipped over with no warning, seeking to cause the human to fall off of him and crash into the ground. That should solve his problem.

Thingal winced. The damn dragon was climbing, and rolling over! Thingal quickly grabbed on tighter to the leg of the dragon. Even so, he didn't hold on tight enough, and fell onto the dragon's belly. Thinking quickly, he crawled over to the side, and used his sword to slash a slit into the dragon's wing, causing it to start to fall to the ground. He quickly continued, hacking great holes in the wing of the great wyrm.

Grissinotharlogthos felt a sharp pain in his wing, and looked back. The human, far from falling to the ground and dying, was hacking at his wing! The dragon snarled, and turned his head back, and let out a burst of acidic spittle. Missing the human, it flew through the air, almost bringing down a red. Suddenly, Grissinotharlogthos felt a sharp cracking in his neck, and his vision dimmed, then grew dark...

The dragon hit the ground with a huge crash, throwing Thingal in a long arc, ending with the thatched roof of a house. Hitting the ground hard, Thingal felt something give, and his left arm snapped audibly. Groaning in pain, Thingal blacked out...

Thingal awoke with A sharp pain in his arm. He suddenly remembered what was happening, and where he was. Looking up, he found out he hadn't been out very long. He could still see dragons flying about. They seemed to be leaving the humans alone now, and was concentrating on the orcs. Getting to his feet, Thingal started limping down the street, trying to figure out where he was. Seeing a guardsman a block down, he called out, and limped towards the man, who turned out to be a member of his unit. The two of them moved down the road, collecting others as they went, and eventually made it to the city gates. A council of war was called, and it was decided that Thingal would be their leader, and that the group should head to the east, into the unknown. Upon a hill, the Midgaardish captain and his group of survivors looked back. In their wake, they left a ruined and desolate city. Midgaard was dotted with acid pits, and fires raged throughout the city. The orc encampment to the north fared no better. The dragons hit it hard, and hardly an orc was to be seen, just a huge swarm of dragons. The group shuddered collectively, and began to march. Thingal thought as they marched, that the orcs might be decimated now, but orcs were like rabbits: In another generation, they would be as strong as ever, and the weakened humans would be in no condition to face them. Thingal decided then that his people would found a city, for protection from the orcs, and they would learn from this day: Never would they view a dragon without hatred, and they would destroy all they found. The group moved steadily into the hills, and Thingal glanced back, just to see the burning towers of his home fall and fade from sight.