B3 Chapter 40: Into the Meat Grinder

It was with great satisfaction that Quintus watched the orcish charge deflect off of his cohort’s defensive line like a blade skittering across thick armor. They had spent quite a bit of time this morning digging in and preparing their position as best they could. Now, those efforts were paying off.

Intentionally placed piles of rock angled the incoming attackers and funneled them toward the Legionnaires in a controlled and predictable manner. The Legion maintained firm footing behind the trenches, while the orcs were practically running at a forty-five degree angle and hitting their barricade from a similarly difficult direction. They continued forward and down the line to other Legionnaires until a few decided to stop and gum up the works.

“Push!”

At Quintus’s command, the men thrust their shields outward. The line pulsed as the move forced the orcs backward, flinging them away with several times the strength that the move should have been able to muster.

It was a more active use of [Coordinated Bulwark] that they’d been experimenting with, one that leveraged their strongest defensive skill into an offensive terror. As it was, the move sent at least a quarter of the orcs stumbling into each other as those behind barreled forward and practically trampled their off-balance brethren.

The elves wasted no time in taking advantage. From the moment that Quintus gave the order, arrows filled the air and arced down toward the distracted foes. They rained down upon the strung-out gaggle of orcs even as they worked to regain the momentum of their charge.

Yet despite the arrows sticking out of their heads, necks, and shoulders, an impressive amount of the orcs continued on unbothered. They flooded over the treacherous terrain with unexpected alacrity. Although given that this was the brutes made this place their home, perhaps such familiarity shouldn’t have been surprising. Still, their numbers grew ever thinner as precisely aimed shots found their eyes or the blood loss proved too great to overcome, even as they continued to push deeper into the trap that had been laid out for them.

Quintus used the brief respite to glance around and take stock. They had set up a number of strategically placed chokepoints between the larger rock formations studding the landscape, then used those funnels to split the orcs into ever smaller streams between lines of Legionnaires as they struck at the green skinned brutes. All the while, the elven Legionnaires pounded them with an unceasing hail of arrows, striking continuously while the iron was hot.

The result was a far more manageable onslaught of enemies spilling across their formation in multiple places, rather than a singular overwhelming mass like they’d seen before.

It was an excellent plan, and executed to perfection. It was a hard balance, deflecting the charge past and moving them further into the trap without losing its forward progress entirely. A balance that Gaius had managed quite well. Added to his clever arrangement of the battle lines to connect them and best leverage [Coordinated Bulwark]? Quintus couldn’t help but feel a bit proud.

So far, the orcs had yet to batter the Legionnaires with a full-force assault, though not for lack of trying. As uncoordinated as they were, the orcs still had strength and durability in spades, even more than the Legion could bring to bear in some ways. Allowing them to simply throw themselves at a shield wall over and over, without preparations like these? Well, Quintus wasn’t confident that they’d outlast their foes. Especially given the difficulty of rotating men during such an attack.

Though it was clear to Quintus that this was not the same situation that he and Devin had faced outside of the capital. The orcs were clearly the same in their singleminded focus on battle and attack. But there was no sign of the intelligence that had previously directed them. It was a boon that made the whole plan run much more smoothly, keeping them from needing to use the tactics they’d prepared for such an event.

Quintus’s blade slid between the shields once more, [Rend]ing flesh alongside those of his century. Up and down the line, their revised black scutums had been painted red with blood. The orcs howled and bashed at the line, only to be deflected and passed off to the next segment through a series of taunt skills, shield bashes, and simple momentum from their comrades carrying them onward. Bodies began to pile up underfoot, adding additional obstacles to the treacherous footing, obstacles that the orcs appeared surprisingly deft at navigating.

The centurion frowned inwardly. If they stacked too high, the orcs may climb atop them and try to leap over the line. Normally he wouldn’t be concerned, given the surprising height of [Coordinated Bulwark]’s shield. But given the inexplicable feats of strength they’d shown thus far…

As if to echo his thoughts, one of the orcs near him took a running leap off the heads and backs of its brethren, bellowing as it raised its crude axe high to strike. It didn’t even reach the apex of its arc before becoming a pincushion full of arrows and even a few spears. The sheer volume of projectiles slamming into it halted the orc in midair, sending it tumbling back into the sea of bodies below.

Well. Perhaps it was less of a problem than he had feared.

That wasn’t to say that the plan was perfect, of course. They’d only had time and resources to build so much. Rolling boulder traps that had acted as the opening salvo to their assault and pitfalls filled with stone spikes at the end of the paths… They were basic, but effective uses of the earth manipulation skills that some of the men specialized in. In fact, many of the more complex and subtle traps proved relatively ineffective by comparison, as the orcs proved too single-minded and robust to care or even trigger them in the first place. Given the time invested in setting those up, they may well have been better off simply replacing them with falling rocks or something along those lines.

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The one thing that both Quintus and Gaius had lamented was the lack of siege weaponry. A complete and utter lack of trees had made constructing any an impossibility, while the narrowness of Corwyn pass had also prevented them from bringing lumber or pre-built weapons along. It was a shame, as such artillery could have made this whole affair much more efficient at whittling down the enemy, not to mention faster. But they managed.

On and on the battle raged as orcs continued to pour through the chokepoints and down the Legion’s deadly funnels. Between the elves and the efforts of the men spurring the enemy forward, there was no opportunity for retreat—not that anyone had expected it. Retreat seemed a foreign concept to this foe, especially when they were already in the thick of battle. Yet as they continuously churned forward, there was nothing to meet them but death.

Quintus continued methodically stabbing at the tide of flesh beyond his shield, occasionally issuing an order to push the tide away so they could regroup. At this point, it wasn’t a battle of tactics. It was one of endurance. The continuous and relatively monotonous nature of the task before them tempted him into complacency, even as bloodthirsty warcries filled his ears. Yet he didn’t allow himself to slack. He kept a wary eye out, watching for any subtle change in the status quo and snapping orders at any men beside him that threatened to drift off into thoughtlessness.

Eventually, the tide stopped. The last orc in their section of the formation fell, leaving the men able to relax for a brief moment. The air still filled with the sounds of war as other sections of Legionnaires continued in their own fights. But for now, they could afford a small respite.

“Stand down,” Quintus ordered, rolling his stiff shoulders. “Eat and drink while you have the chance. With how many are left, I doubt we have more than a few minutes.”

The men didn’t waste any time on words. They began scarfing down rations and washing them down with whatever swill they’d brought in their wineskins before the next wave arrived. It wouldn’t be long until more orcs were diverted down their section of the formation. Still, there was plenty that could be done in the meantime.

Quintus called over to the men near the end of the formation, who were comparatively well-rested. “Fill in the smaller pits and reload the traps that have triggered. Replace the ones that haven’t with more slopes.”

The unexpected alacrity of the orcs meant that many of their footing hazards had proven markedly less effective than they’d hoped. Even the caltrops seemed unable to pierce the thick soles of the orcs’ bare feet. It meant that their best bet really was slowing them down to a more manageable level.

Several of the Legionnaires with shovels, picks, and earth manipulation skills began reshaping the terrain accordingly. Trenches deepened, broken spikes were repaired, and the very rock beneath their feet writhed and shifted as its slope was adjusted. The places where they had tested a light covering of very slippery round rocks were expanded, replacing a few of the caltrop sections. Slipping, at least, still seemed to give the orcs trouble. While it wouldn’t directly harm their foes, perhaps it would prove more useful overall.

Quintus took a swig from his own waterskin, allowing himself a brief respite as well. Despite the monotony of the battle, he felt that he had learned much about their foe. The rough and treacherous nature of their homeland certainly have context to both their toughness and their ability to navigate obstacles seemingly without thought. Yet it also gave him additional insights into how they fought.

The massive terrain features that broke up the wasteland around them made for a plethora of natural chokepoints, many of which Gaius was using to his advantage. Yet those same chokepoints also went toward explaining how the orcs managed to avoid wiping each other out wholesale during each battle. Based on what he’d seen, the strongest and most robust fighters elbowed their way to the front, where they would likely clash with the strongest of whatever other tribe or group they happened to be fighting. The better fighter would prevail, then cut a swath through the comparatively weaker orcs beyond until he fell or emerged victorious.

It was a kind of fighting where small group tactics would have proven incredibly effective, as they were now proving. But Quintus found himself grateful that the orcs didn’t realize that. Even if they had, he felt confident that the Legion’s experience and focus on such tactics would win out. The Legion excelled in close-quarters fighting and didn’t require much space for complex maneuvering to begin with. And though they were comparatively smaller than the orcs in both stature and musculature, that just meant they could bring more numbers to bear and pack more men into such enclosed spaces. That did far more to offset the advantage the orcs would get in a small-numbered clash. Combined with their specialized skills meant to take advantage of group fighting, Quintus felt confident in their victory.

After a few minutes, Quintus felt an invisible tug, as though someone had tapped on his shoulder. The signal he’d been waiting for. He stood and took the opportunity for one final stretch as he bellowed to his men. “Stand ready! Another wave incoming!”

With only a few groans of complaint, the men formed back up into their lines and hefted their shields once more. The break had been short, but necessary, though it did little to offset the stamina drain from such continuous skill usage that Quintus was beginning to feel. It wasn’t too bad yet. But he could only hope that their foe would run out before his men’s ability to combat them did.

They started once more, albeit with slightly different goals in mind. They allowed the orcs to move past them faster than before as they shepherded them to the next set of traps that the fourth cohort had set up, allowing them to get some testing in as well. Soon, the elves gave their signal that they were moving on to the next set of vantage points, and the Legion hunkered down, allowing the orcs to run past them entirely. The few that attempted to charge up a hill at the moving elves were cut down in quick succession. The use of the high ground and the vertical slope forced the orcs to move on, and the orcs seemed more than happy to take a path of less resistance in order to get back into the fight.

Three more times orcish attacks were led down their branching path, and three more times Quintus adjusted to match the orcs’ very similar tactics. The bodies before them continued to pile up as the battle turned into little more than a test of how efficiently the Legionnaires could slaughter their foes.

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