Rise of the Horde

The morning sun's golden hue over the battlefield, signalled the commencement of the Ereian army's assault on the town. Commander Rakabis, his face set in a determined expression, directed his forces with calculated precision.

The magic cannons, having unleashed their full power with the magic crystals, now fired less destructive shots, but they remained deadly nonetheless. Wave after wave of Ereian soldiers charged towards the walls, their battle cries echoing across the plains. The mages, their eyes alight with arcane power, unleashed spells to support the advancing troops.

The orcs, waiting within the confines of the town, greeted their foes with fierce resistance. They welcomed the Ereian army with a storm of iron, their sharp weapons glinting in the morning light. The clash of swords and the thunder of war drums filled the air as the two forces collided.

The Ereian soldiers, driven by a sense of renewed hope, fought with unwavering determination. The orcs, despite their initial surprise at the appearance of the magic cannons, adapted swiftly, utilizing their agility and brute strength to engage their adversaries in close-quarters combat.

The battle raged on, each side refusing to yield. The town's walls became a maelstrom of chaos and bloodshed, the air thick with the scent of iron and magic.

The Ereian army's disciplined assault began to falter as they faced the relentless orcish onslaught. The orcs, fighting with a combination of brute force and cunning tactics, sought to exploit any weakness in their enemy's attacks.

As the sun climbed higher in the sky, the heat of the desert intensified, matching the fervor of the battle. The magic cannons, despite their initial impact, struggled to find clear lines of sight within the confines of the town. The orcs, aware of the cannons' limitations, used the walls and the ruins from its destruction to their advantage, engaging in swift and mobile tactics that hindered the Ereian army's advance.

Commander Rakabis, witnessing the changing tide of the battle, rallied his forces. "We will not be deterred!" he shouted, his voice carrying across the chaotic landscape. "Adapt to their tactics! Use your magic to clear a path, and we shall strike at the heart of their defenses!" The mages, heeding Rakabis' command, unleashed a barrage of spells, creating opportunities for the soldiers to advance.

The shamans and the few mages on the side of the horde didn't want to be outshined; they too unleashed a devastating rain of magic upon the advancing enemy army. Magic of different natures rained down upon the advancing Ereian army.

The Ereian army pushed forward, their resolve unwavering despite the mounting casualties. The orcs, however, remained steadfast, their battle-hardened warriors refusing to yield an inch of ground. The battle within the walls had become a grueling test of endurance and strategy, each side seeking to outmaneuver the other.

The magic cannons, though less effective without a clear line of sight, still played a crucial role, their destructive power forcing the orcs to constantly adjust their positions. As the day wore on, the outcome of the battle remained uncertain, with neither side willing to concede defeat. The walls bore the scars of the fierce combat, its length littered with the fallen warriors of both factions. The air hung heavy with the smoke of magic and the acrid scent of blood, a somber reminder of the cost of war.

The Ereian side thrummed with a tense, expectant energy. Banners of the royal colors - two crossing sabers upon a field of gold - whipped in the wind, each snap and crackle echoing the frantic beat of drums that announced the approach of King Gyassi's vanguard. The riders, a sea of silver helms and glittering armor, appeared on the horizon, their arrival heralding a new phase in the war.

Within the heart of the chaos of battle, amongst the attacking wave, Rakabis watched as the riders emerged from the shimmering heat haze, their horses straining under the weight of their riders' burdens. The air, thick with the scent of sweat and leather.

"The King comes," a weathered veteran, Tashik, said beside Rakabis, his voice tinged with a fear and respect. He was one of the hidden eyes assigned by the king to watch over the newly appointed commander of the army.

As the darkness of the night approaches, the battle continued to wage with relentless fury. The Ereian army, spurred by Commander Rakabis' rallying cry, pushed forward with renewed vigor. The mages, their robes billowing in the desert wind, summoned forth blasts of arcane energy, creating barriers to protect their advancing comrades from the barrage of magic coming from the defenders.

The soldiers fought with determination, their swords and shields glinting in the last rays of the waning sunlight. Despite their valiant efforts, the orcs refused to yield an inch, their brutish strength and agility proving a formidable match for the Ereian forces.

The town's walls ran red with blood as the clash of iron and the cries of the fallen filled the air. The magic cannons, though hindered by the fact that they have a limited clear line of attack , continued to unleash their destructive power, shaking the very foundations of the battleground. With the battle hanging in the balance, a new element was about to be introduced – one that would shift the tides of the battle once more.

King Gyassi, with his vanguard, was approaching, and their presence would bring a fresh wave of strategy and might to the fray. Rakabis, aware of the king's arrival, prepared to welcome his sovereign, knowing that their combined forces could turn the tide against the relentless orcish defenders.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the bloodied battlefield, the air grew heavy with anticipation and unease. Trot'thar, his eyes sharp despite the fatigue of battle, was the first to notice the approaching riders. With swiftness, he alerted the chieftain to this new development.

Adhalia and Faynah, their eyes trained on the distant figures, quickly identified the royal banners. "That bastard himself has arrived," Adhalia whispered, her voice carrying a mixture of anger and trepidation. Faynah nodded, her eyes never leaving the approaching cavalcade. "Gyassi, that bastard, rides to join the fray."

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