276 Chapter Two Hundred and Seventy-Six – Klawing Their Way to the Wall (1/2)

There were a lot of the fellows, so despite the slaughter, despite the bottlenecks, despite the cavalcade of spells, despite the butchering of their most powerful members/demons/mutants/beasts, they kept coming.

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After all, where could they run to?

The sound of weapons hitting armor raised the noise level to pure din, but that was fine. Everyone was thrumming to a killing beat, and /tellepathy didn't care about the noise level at all. The only noise everyone was making was singing or humming along to the music, despite the horns blowing, drums thrumming, inhuman screams, bellows of pain, shrieks of animals, demonic howls, and all the other crazy noise that would have drowned out any normal human voice in the chaos of the battlefield.

Regardless of what the Klaw fanatics were doing, shit got done.

I had four different thought streams on Warlord duty, coordinating, focusing, moving, guiding, warning, relaying. Information went from here to there to everywhere, tones and feelings of the whole battle obvious to everyone Marked as the killing continued.

Despite their numbers, there was no fear at all as the killing continued. The harmonic singing on our side was clearly unnerving them, too.

Someone spotted some siege engines rolling out of the Rift, and the lines of slaughter harvesting hundreds of their numbers bent to the new targets. Helices converged on one, two, circled around them, and the demon-carved Rune Cannons began to rupture as their crews and the slaved beasts hauling them fell apart in burning body parts. The Rune Cannons crashed to the ground, the most critical of the Runes carved through, and began to light off.

I sternly told them not to do that, as the ballista boys could use that energy, too. Henceforth, their carriages were merely carved apart, leaving the monstrously heavy barrels lying there impotently on the ground amid the ruins of their crews, and forming more impediments for the lines of men behind. Behind the Walls, the Autobow crews cackled and informed the other siege engineers of the stuff coming their way.

The tactic of stacking men up on the walls didn't work too well when those corpses were burning away beneath them, unless it was a true lemming-like rush ignoring all losses... which usually attracted a Wall of Fire right beneath them, feasting on them faster than they could climb.

Their missile troops were having major problems with the greater range and superhuman accuracy on our end, so suppression fire wasn't really a thing we had to worry about. Our close-range suppression was a fairly constant barrage of Reserve magic that just wasn't going to let go of them.

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Naturally, the situation on the savage races side wasn't so favorable.

They had neither the unlimited ammunition nor the spell power to inflict harm that we did on ours. What they did have was a lot of ogres, trolls, and giants who could throw a lot of rocks, and, well, Stone Shaping up a whole lot of rocks wasn't really that difficult.

So, they kept up a decent bombardment, trying to throw at clusters to maximize the effect of being hit by a 200-mph bowling ball. Still, without the Weapons and the range, the minions of Klaw made much better progress in their direction, even managing to bring forth siege ladders and things, and some big monsters that could be used to dig through, climb over, or simply breach the walls.

The savage races had their own beasts, and the Jotuns seemed to enjoy beating on the bigger stuff when it showed up. As for the orcs, goblins, kobolds, and various anthro races, they fought with bloodthirsty zeal, all the shamans out there whipping them into a frenzy. If they died, they died violently, and if the savage races didn't have quite the unending numbers of the Warped army, it wasn't far behind... and they did have the walls.

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Over on our side, a thunderous Demon Weapon breached one of the low, narrow walls, and howling berserkers poured on through, waving their unwieldly Dire Weapons like toys, looking for targets to slaughter.

And they came out onto a wide plaza, with a whole lot of armored knights with lances waiting Over There, and more low walls rising around to pin them in.

Hooting monkeys began to rain down iron spheres upon them, iron spheres which vanished into mists and reappeared back in their hands to be tossed down again, crushing down on the hapless armored brutes in the channel below just before the charging Knights hit, led by the mighty Sir Harbromm on his steed. Thunder went off, steel crunched, and overweight brutes went flying with many screams, or were pulped under the hooves of the horsemen.

They peeled back and disengaged so smoothly it was almost magical, almost flowing back and away. More fanatics streamed in through the opening endlessly, and then ran into the waiting wall of spears, as the cavalry rode away to get ready for another break nearby. The Rockborn smiled nastily, noted that this particular band of oversized mutates was Bannerbound, and adjusted their tactics accordingly...

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There was fighting on the wall over on the savage side for some time, mostly being alleviated by Jotuns standing behind who swept the invaders off the wall with great crunching sweeps of their clubs and mauls, to be further crushed by waiting forces on the ground. Grinning savages waiting below were quick indeed to fall upon them and complete the bone-crushing and skull-breaking.

There were two loci which drew the attention of the Klaw forces. The first was an obvious Obelisk rising behind the center of our lines, wisping the same hue as the vivic fire that was eating away their dead, the black stone slowly and gradually turning white. It was promptly identified as Important in that I Need a Battlefield Objective kind of way, even if they couldn't see the other two Obelisks set back and away near the Ring, which had been collecting vivus from the battlefields ever since this whole affair began. Filling up this last Obelisk would naturally complete what we wanted to do.

The other was a huge orcish statue of whatever their god was, which they had set up in delighted crude fashion behind the lines. It looked almost comical with its oversized jaws and huge muscles and brutal expression, but the orcs were fighting in front of it like true barbarians. They could feel the presence of their god upon it, and it took care of their uncertain morale pretty damn well.

Just like on our side, those savages who had survived the endless daily battles had grown stronger. They had burned Demon Weapons to empower their own, they had patched together armor in their own unique way to make their own, they had added skulls to their accoutrements, and they had felt the hands of the gods upon them making them stronger.