It was a hard-fought battle. At first it had seemed the Lycans had the numbers and morale on their side, perhaps even the gods themselves, but the Ogre warlord was cunning and ruthless. He was no stranger to war.
While Vlath had focused his strongest warriors in the front and riled up everyone's spirits, the strange pale-skinned ogres had marched in unison and purpose towards the lycan formations. Vlath ordered the charge, and from atop the hill well over a hundred lycans had rushed their enemy with weapon, fang and claw. Vlath himself had used his new powers efficiently, having been able to personally dispatch several armored ogre vanguards by channeling his new powers through his body to increase his strength and dexterity. While he had found he could not yet call upon dark magics to devestate his enemies, he could fuel himself beyond mortal strength and fought with the power of ten of his kind.
However, when one Ogre fell at his post another took his place. After a few minutes of hard fighting, the ogres shifted their ranks. Rested soldiers came forward while the tired ones were allowed to rest towards the back. They repeated the tactic, always ensuring they were fighting with full strength.
The lycans were ferocious and beyond average stamina, but they had no such battlestrategy in place. Their strategy was brute strength and ferocity, and it seemed to be working at first. The Ogre centre gave in, allowing lycan warriors to drive a wedge through their lines, but suddenly their advance came to a halt. The ogres had gave ground purposely, and now had the lycan centre flanked from all sides as they had driven their wedge into the ogre lines.
Vlath could only watch as several of his warriors fell, and as more and more blood painted the grass and mud, it became clear to him that this battle was lost. His commanders started to order a retreat, and his warriors began pulling back. The Ogres advanced and came after them, but their armor weighed them down and they dared not run. The Lycan retreat was unchallanged, but the disorganized warriors made it look more like a route.
All survivors made it back to the settlement, but those who could not fight had taken the children under guidance from Mex and Basir as ordered and sought refuge in the mountain to the north. Vlath and his commanders had survived, some slightly wounded but still standing, but another 30 lycans had to be left behind, either dead or too wounded to retreat. The survivors were likely taken captive, and as Vlath organized the rest of the settlement's inhabitants to flee north to the mountain, the Ogres caught up. They cut off their escape by flanking the village to the west and to the north, as if they knew the layout of the lands exactly. The Ogre warlord stood upon a hill, overlooking the village, and raised a flag. Vlath knew what it meant; the warlord called for an audience. The Ogre forces remained at their posts flanking the village, waiting for Vlath to show himself.
Growling, he realized he had no choice. At first, he thought he would rather die than parlay with their enemy, but he knew better than to not seek the Gods' council. And so he did. He ordered his warriors to stand down, but be at the ready in case the Ogres had enough of waiting, and he went to his hut where he had erected a small shrine.
He drew a knife, cut his palm and let a few drops of blood drip into a chalice of stone. He closed his eyes, and reached out into the void to speak with his pantheon.
At first; silence. Then, he could feel a pressence course through his scars, the scars he had received only hours ago from his gods. They spoke to him through the power they had granted him. What little words his mind could comprehend told him to not die here in vain. His part to play in the living world was not yet over, and the Gods would severely punish him if he died now before he completed what they had demanded of him: the blood of the lesser races. Indeed, the battle had spilled the blood of a few ogres, but not nearly enough to repay the loss of Lycan life. The gods were angry, but not with Vlath, but with the ogres.
A final order echoed through Vlath's mind, ringing like a bell, shaking him to the core.
Don't you dare fail us, Vlath. Live and retreat. Live to fight another day. The time will come where your vengeance upon the Ogres will be complete, and on that day we will reward you and your people greatly. You are our chosen, our champions that walk the mortal plane.Vlath was unsure how to proceed, even though he planned to do what the Gods bid. Was he to pack up and leave? Try to escape the ogre warband? No, they were too many and their escaperoute was cut off. After a few minutes of meditation, he came up with a plan.
And so it came to be that Vlath met with Durgal, the Ogre Warlord, and allowed his village to be annexed. Months have passed since then, and the Ogres arrive once a week to collect tribute and manpower to no doubt be used as slavelabor. The non-fighters and the children had returned to the village, and all lived under the iron heel of the Ogre, but secretly they all longed to be free. They hated their captors with a burning passion, and all knew a day would come that Vlath rose up against them and overthrew them. But such an act would require cunning, planning and carefully masterminded operations as the Ogres had a numerical, equipment and strategical advantage. Luckily, you have had months of planning.
What is Vlath planning to do, to free his people?
Population: 137 men, 131 women, 22 children.
Military: No standing military. Militia able to be conscripted up to 50% of adult population.
Food level: Average
Resources: Requires prospection and industry.
Wealth: Nonexistant
Trade: Nonexistant
Growth: Base: 5%
+0% from food level, -1% from morale = 4%.Morale: Disgruntled
Foreign relations: - Durgal's Horde: Hated
