Chapter 13: Embershore Beseiged!
by SlivvoThe night was eerily quiet as the goblin warband reached the outskirts of Embershore. A suffocating darkness pressed against the village, broken only by the flickering glow of torches lining the fortified stone walls. A hush fell over the defenders, every ear straining to catch the first sound of their enemy’s approach.
Sorin stood atop the ramparts, his eyes scanning the shifting treeline. His grip on his sword tightened as he felt the telltale pulse of adrenaline coursing through his veins. Around him, villagers turned warriors stood shoulder to shoulder, clutching weapons with white-knuckled determination.
“They’ll be here any moment,” Hashan muttered beside him, rolling his shoulders as if to shake off the tension.
“Aye,” Korovh growled, resting his heavy axe against the parapet. “And when they come, we’ll make them pay for every step.”
A sudden rustling in the underbrush. The snap of a branch. Then—a low, guttural chant.
Sorin’s Analyze skill triggered, picking up dozens—no, hundreds—of enemy health bars as they materialized from the shadows. The goblins swarmed forward, their eyes gleaming with malevolence. They carried rusted weapons, crude shields, and the unmistakable stink of bloodlust.
A horn blared in the distance. The battle had begun.
“Archers, loose!” Sorin commanded.
A volley of arrows arced through the night sky, striking down goblins in droves. The creatures shrieked in pain, some collapsing instantly, others scrambling over the bodies of their fallen kin.
But the goblins had come prepared. Spear-throwers retaliated, launching jagged projectiles at the ramparts. A defender to Sorin’s left crumpled with a cry, an iron-tipped spear buried in his chest.
“They’ve got ranged support,” Cailean shouted from the western wall. “Focus fire on the shamans!”
Sorin turned his gaze toward the rear of the horde. A goblin shaman, cloaked in tattered robes, raised his staff. Sickly green mana surged from his fingertips, sending waves of dark energy crashing against the defenses.
“We have to take him out now,” Sorin yelled, pointing. “Archers, bring him down!”
A hail of arrows answered his command, but the shaman conjured a barrier of writhing shadows, deflecting most of the attacks. The goblins, emboldened by their leader’s protection, surged forward in an unstoppable tide.
The gates trembled.
“They’re trying to break through!” Hashan bellowed.
Korovh and his dwarven militia rushed to reinforce the entrance, locking shields as the goblin vanguard smashed against the wooden doors with battering rams.
“Fall back to the inner gate!” Sorin ordered. “We need to hold the line until we thin their numbers!”
The defenders executed a tactical retreat, drawing the enemy deeper into the village’s choke points. Makeshift barricades forced the goblins into narrow alleyways, limiting their ability to swarm in numbers.
Sorin jumped down from the ramparts, his sword a blur of motion as he cut through goblins with calculated efficiency. He parried a dagger thrust, pivoted, and drove his blade through the skull of a snarling warrior.
Beside him, Hashan tore through the enemy ranks, his strikes swift and precise. Korovh fought with unyielding fury, his axe carving a bloody path through the horde.
“We can’t hold them forever!” Hashan grunted, deflecting a goblin’s blade with his shield.
Sorin’s mind raced. “We need a fire barrier!”
Korovh’s eyes flicked to the barrels of oil stacked near a storage shed. Without hesitation, he grabbed a torch and hurled it at the nearest barrel.
A wall of fire roared to life.
The goblins shrieked, their advance halted as the flames licked hungrily at their ranks. The defenders took the opportunity to regroup, forming a tight defensive perimeter.
Cailean approached, armor slick with blood, his breath heavy. “The fire won’t hold them forever. We need to cut off the head of the beast.”
Sorin nodded, already scanning the battlefield with Analyze. His vision honed in on the goblin warlord—a hulking brute, clad in scavenged armor, directing the horde with guttural roars.
“If we take out their leader, they’ll break.”
Hashan, Korovh, and a handful of elite fighters volunteered. “We’ll slip through the flames and end this,” Hashan said, determination burning in his eyes.
“Let’s go,” Sorin commanded.
The strike team moved swiftly, dodging flaming debris and weaving through the chaos. Sorin’s Stealth skill helped them slip past goblin sentries, positioning them for an ambush on the warlord.
They struck hard and fast.
Korovh’s axe cleaved into the warlord’s side, staggering the beast. Hashan drove his sword deep into its thigh, forcing it to one knee. The goblin snarled, eyes wild with fury, and swung a massive cleaver at Sorin.
Sorin dodged—barely—before channeling his Mana Cannon.
A brilliant beam of light erupted from his palm.
The warlord’s roar turned into a gurgled scream as the blast pierced his chest, leaving behind a charred hole. The creature collapsed, its body smoking.
A wave of panic swept through the goblin ranks. Without their leader, their coordination crumbled.
Cailean seized the moment. “Push forward! Drive them back!”
The defenders surged, cutting down goblins faster than they could regroup. Those that didn’t fall fled into the night, their battle-lust extinguished.
By dawn, the battle was over.
Embershore stood.
Sorin stood atop the scorched ramparts, gazing at the smoldering battlefield littered with goblin corpses.
They had won, but at a cost. Fallen comrades lined the streets, their sacrifices etched into the village’s history. Survivors wept for the lost, but among them was a shared determination—they had defended their home.
Cailean approached, placing a hand on Sorin’s shoulder. “You led them well.”
Sorin exhaled, exhaustion weighing on him. “We all did.”
Hashan and Korovh joined him, their faces weary yet triumphant. The warband had been broken, but the threat was far from over.
As the sun rose over Embershore, Sorin made a silent vow—this village would not fall. Not now. Not ever.
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