Book 2 Chapter Eleven: Waiting Game

ELEVEN

“Where’s the hob?” Moira asked in between panting breaths. Roan ducked underneath a wild swing of the injured ogre. Its knee popped loudly as it tried to shift its weight, but the joint failed. It crashed to the ground, shaking the earth. Moira stepped forward and speared the ogre through the eye. Spikes of metal erupted from the ogre’s skull. She twisted her wrist and pulled, bringing all of the brain matter from the ogres’ skull with her like an Egyptian mummification priestess.

All around them fighting was raging as Taoya’s personal squad were in the process of slaughtering every horde officer they could find. Half of the squad had raced into the edge of the woods and the fire burst of power had come to a halt as the shamans were put on their backfoot.

“Don’t know,” Roan admitted as he took a knee, using the bulk of the ogre’s corpse to shield himself from any stray attacks. Even with the shamans numbers dwindling, bursts of fire still launched from the woods now and then. Obsidian knives had a habit of being flung at them as well.

“Another ogre! Tenderize it for me?” Moira asked. Even with her body advancement, she didn’t have Roan’s endurance. They had fallen into a smooth rhythm of fighting together, alternating who landed the final blows on the ogres. Unlike the skeleton monstrosity, there were no splitting credits for the horde officers. Moira was often left to collect the necklaces the monsters carried while Roan held off the next of them.

“This one’s mine,” Roan reminded her as he moved to intercept the beast. Unlike the rest that they’d been fighting, this one carried a heavy slab of metal fashioned into a facsimile of a shield in one hand and a club in the other. It lumbered forward slowly, shield raised to stop the hail of bolts from impaling it.

“Shit, might need her help afterall,” Roan whispered as he rotated to its unguarded side. The ogre showed the first signs of intelligence for its race as it stopped advancing and began to slowly shuffle, keeping its shield between itself and Roan.

“Alright, then we have to crack it the hard way.” Roan shot forward, racing as fast as he could and swinging with all his weight and momentum. The wide hammer head struck the center of the shield with a resounding CLANG! Vibrations rattled his hands, numbing them instantly. The ogre staggered back, looking shocked as its shield had a massive dent in the center of it.

“Bent the haft,” Roan groaned as he stared at the warped handle of the warhammer. The bend started not far from underneath the head of the weapon, twisted backward where the force of the blow had been too much for the materials. Roan couldn’t give up his advantage as the ogre’s stumbling slowed, its shield out of place.

He darted in, bringing the damaged warhammer around toward an exposed knee. The tried and true tactic of wearing down the large mobs was shattering joints and then finishing them with some type of brain damage. The hammer connected with a sickening crunch and an even worse scream of metal.

Roan dropped the warhammer on instinct and drew the short sword, keeping close to the collapsing mob. So close he could feel the heat wafting off of the body as the ogre hit the ground on one knee, eyes watering in pain. Roan stabbed it through one of its beady eyes, feeling the edge of the sword scrape through bone. He waggled the blade as much as he could, black blood flowing from the ogre’s eye, nose, and mouth. It fell over and he got the alert of the kill.

“You break your toy?” Moira asked as she walked over to him.

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“Fix it?” Roan asked, hardly breathing heavily as he ducked down. A pair of obsidian blades flashed through the space he’d been in.

“Yeah. But once it starts warping like that, it’s permanently weakened. I can move more metal over to reinforce the bend point, but you’re going to need a new weapon or reforge this one,” Moira warned. She grabbed the hammer and Roan watched with a bit of envy as the twisted black hammer head slipped back in place. Watching the normally solid metal warp and ripple was entrancing. When she was done it looked like the damage had never happened.

“Thanks, Moira,” Roan said. He wiped the sword’s bloody blade off and resheathed it before hefting the hammer. The balance was slightly off, but nothing severe.