Chapter 831: The Great Battle of Mountain Beasts (13)
The orc commander, his mind sharp despite the bloodlust of battle, felt the gnawing sensation of a trap closing around his forces. He raised his arm high, signaling for a tactical retreat. His veteran warriors, trained in ancient orcish warfare, responded without hesitation, immediately falling back into disciplined ranks. The reckless charge ground to a halt, replaced by a calculated reformation.
With barked orders, the orcs began to pull together, their movements well-rehearsed, honed by countless skirmishes and brutal wars. The Wagon Laager, an ancient and formidable orc tactic, took shape. The outer ring of orcs, heavily armored and wielding massive shields covered in iron studs and spikes, interlocked their shields to create a nearly impenetrable wall. These elite warriors braced themselves against the incoming assault, their bulging muscles straining to hold the line as they created a seamless barrier. Their shields, battered and scarred from previous battles, now stood as the only thing between the orcs and the charging trolls.
Behind the wall of shields, the second rank of orc soldiers—those armed with long, cruel spears—positioned themselves with expert precision. Their spears jutted out from between the cracks of the shields, forming a deadly forest of sharpened tips. These spear-wielders were ready to impale any troll foolish enough to charge directly into their defenses. The slightest opening in the troll ranks would be met with a flurry of stabbing thrusts, aimed to gut or cripple.
Further, inside the formation, archers and slingers quickly took their places. The archers nocked arrows tipped with jagged steel, while the slingers readied stones dipped in fire oil. From the safety of the inner laager, they had a perfect view of the battlefield, allowing them to rain death from above on any approaching trolls. This mobile fortress—designed to repel even the most savage attacks—was an effective response to the chaotic, raw strength of their trollish adversaries.
The orc commander surveyed his forces with grim satisfaction. The Wagon Laager was more than just a defensive formation—it was a machine of war, designed to grind down the enemy through attrition, absorbing their assaults while delivering death in controlled bursts. The trolls, for all their brute strength, would find themselves crashing against a wall of steel and spikes, unable to break through. If the trolls made a reckless charge, they would be funneled into the waiting spears and arrows. The orcs, now fortified and patient, were ready to absorb and counter the troll onslaught.
Across the battlefield, the troll commander watched the orcs reform into the laager. His keen, battle-hardened eyes narrowed as he realized that the orc commander had sensed his ploy. The feigned retreat had drawn the orcs out, but now they had regrouped into an impregnable fortress. The trolls’ brutal momentum was now against a solid, fortified front, and their initial advantage was slipping away.
The trolls, sensing the change in the battle, halted their retreat. The ruse had worked; they had drawn the orcs into the open. But now, the challenge was breaking through the tightly knit orc formation. Trolls, with their primal and overwhelming strength, were used to smashing through lines and tearing their enemies apart with sheer force. But the Wagon Laager presented an altogether different challenge—a formation that absorbed and withstood brute strength, forcing the trolls to think beyond raw power.
The troll commander grunted, his eyes flicking to the trolls around him. He gave a series of guttural commands, and his forces adjusted their positions. Instead of crashing headlong into the orc shields, the trolls began to spread out, surrounding the laager on all sides. They knew that if they charged blindly, they would be met with a wall of spears and arrows. Instead, they needed to pressure the laager, forcing the orcs to hold the line without making a decisive break.
The trolls’ front ranks advanced cautiously now, approaching the shield wall with heavy clubs and axes raised. They tested the formation, hammering against the shields with brute force, trying to find weak points. Each time, however, the orcs absorbed the blows, their shields shaking but holding firm. Behind the shield wall, the spear-wielding orcs struck out in response, their long spears darting through the gaps to pierce the troll ranks, driving them back.
The trolls growled and snarled in frustration, stepping back to reassess their approach. They needed to lure the orcs into overextending once more.
At the troll commander’s signal, the next phase of their strategy began. The trolls shifted their focus to harassing the flanks of the laager. Small, elite groups of trolls, faster and more agile than their brutish brethren, began skirmishing along the edges of the formation. They hurled boulders and debris, trying to create gaps in the orc lines. The orcs, for their part, held steady, though the constant barrage wore on their stamina.
The orc commander, sensing the strain on his soldiers, barked more orders. The archers and slingers inside the laager loosed a deadly volley of arrows and stones, targeting the skirmishing trolls. Fire-tipped arrows arced through the air, embedding themselves into troll flesh. Some trolls fell, roaring in pain as flames engulfed them. Still, the trolls pressed the attack, relentless in their attempts to weaken the orc defenses.
But the orc laager held firm. The wall of shields and spears was unyielding, and the trolls’ repeated attempts to break through seemed futile. The orc commander knew that as long as his forces remained disciplined, the trolls would be unable to breach the formation. However, he also knew that the trolls wouldn’t retreat easily. The battle would be a grueling test of endurance.
Then, in a moment of boldness, one of the troll commanders signaled for a massive push. The trolls, having worn down parts of the laager’s flank, charged with renewed fury. They crashed into the orc shields, their heavy clubs and axes smashing down with bone-crushing force. The orcs at the outer edge of the laager staggered, their shields dented and cracked under the immense pressure.
For a moment, the orc line wavered.
But the orcs rallied quickly, reinforcing their front with fresh troops. The elite warriors at the forefront of the laager dug in their heels, refusing to give ground. Orc spears jabbed out, finding flesh as troll blood sprayed across the battlefield. The orc archers, firing in rapid succession, unleashed another deadly volley, thinning the troll ranks once more.
The trolls’ feigned retreat had drawn the orcs out, but now the tables were turning. The orc Wagon Laager, a mobile fortress that had absorbed everything the trolls had thrown at it, was holding strong. Troll bodies began to pile up against the shield wall, as the orc defenses proved nearly unbreakable.
Yet the trolls refused to retreat. The battle raged on, a brutal dance of attrition. The trolls’ primal strength and cunning against the orcs’ disciplined, fortress-like formation. The battlefield, now littered with the bodies of the dead and dying, echoed with the roars of combat. Neither side willing to yield, each move a calculated push to outlast the other.
The battlefield trembled under the relentless assault of the trolls’ Pull and Push counterattack. Having successfully baited the orcs into their wagon laager formation, the troll commander, his beady eyes glowing with cunning, unleashed the next phase of his strategy. The feigned retreat had lured the orcs into a fortified but static position, and now it was time to shatter it.
With a deafening roar that reverberated through the valley, the trolls charged back towards the orc laager. Their massive forms, hulking and enraged, barreled across the field, trampling over the fallen. They surged forward with terrifying speed and power, their enormous clubs and jagged axes raised high, ready to hammer down on the orc defenses. As they collided with the tightly packed formation, the sheer force of the impact sent shockwaves through the orc ranks.
The orc shield wall groaned under the pressure. The elite orcs at the front braced themselves, their muscles straining to hold the line, but even their considerable strength was tested. The trolls’ weapons, far heavier than those of any human army, crashed into the shields with the force of battering rams. The resounding crack of splintering wood and denting metal filled the air as shields buckled and bent under the strain. Some orcs stumbled back from the force, their feet digging into the blood-soaked ground, struggling to maintain their positions.
Behind the front ranks, troll archers let loose a volley of massive, thick-shafted arrows. Each arrow was as long as a man’s arm and tipped with broad, jagged heads meant to punch through the thickest armor. They rained down on the laager, each one striking with deadly intent. The orcs, however, had their shield wall raised high, and though some arrows found their marks, embedding themselves in orc flesh with sickening thuds, the majority of the projectiles were deflected or absorbed by the interlocked shields. Still, the pressure was mounting. Orcs grunted and growled, their hands aching from the constant bracing, their shield wall under continuous assault.
