Chapter 13: Let Battle Commence

 

Chapter 13: Let Battle Commence

“Sound the horns. Raise the flags. Let the heavens bear witness: this day, we drown the world in war.”

The battlefield stretched for miles — a broken, jagged scar beneath a slate-grey sky. Smoke curled thick through the air, stinging eyes and cloaking shapes in shadow. The scent of blood, ash, and burning oil rode on the wind like a song of death. The Adderlin — that war-powder of champions — rushed through the veins of Salty’s warriors, sharpening senses to the edge of madness.

From atop his war-steed, Sir Salty looked over the field. Armour etched in gold and scarlet, his great battle axe shimmered with runes freshly awakened. At his sides, rode Queens Sarah and Michelle, draped in cloaks of midnight silk, their busty figures proud beneath gilded plate. Behind them marched the armies of Virellia: pike-men, lancers, crossbow units, and the thunderous line of cannon and mortars.

And leading the vanguard, like twin stars before the storm, rode the Dirty Dozen — blades drawn, eyes ablaze.

“Hold the line!” shouted Salty. “They’ll break on our steel, or we die as legends!”

From the blackened ridge ahead, the Horde rose like a tide. First came the Goblins on wolfback, teeth gnashing, warlocks screaming curses into the sky. Then the Orcs — shield-walls of green muscle and hate, their war drums pounding like a heartbeat. And towering behind them were the Ogres, dragging siege weapons, snarling under iron helms.

Then… silence.

A second later — CANNON FIRE.

The first volley screamed across the field, obliterating a pack of Goblins in a single, flaming instant. Wolves howled. Bodies flew. Black blood sizzled in the dirt. Cheers rose from Virellia’s lines.

But the enemy did not slow.

The Giant Ogre, Mordak Bonejaw, charged forward with a roar that cracked the air. With a single swing of his iron mace, he shattered twenty pike-men, flinging men like dolls. A second swing crushed a mounted lancer and his steed to pulp.

“More powder!” shouted a captain. “Bring the cannon around!”

Meanwhile, above the carnage, the real battle began.

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⚔️ Dirty Dozen vs. Dark Reflections

The twelve women of legend met their demonic counterparts in open ground, blades clashing, magic exploding around them like storms caged in flesh.

• Isabella loosed a bolt through Naxxira’s wing — the demon shrieked, retaliating with three shadow arrows. Two missed. One struck Isabella in the side — but she kept firing, blood running down her thigh.

• Ravenna danced through Skreel’s attacks, their blades flashing like mirrored lightning. Skreel laughed even as blood spilled from her mouth.

• Brida’s thunder met Zhur’s frost. The sky cracked. The earth split. One bolt struck Brida’s chest — she fell, but rose again, a god’s fury in her eyes.

Each woman was pushed to the brink, their rival tailored to undo their every strength. Yet they fought with purpose, with rage, with love for Salty — and for what came next.

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💥 Magic and Mayhem, Chaos and Clarity

Queens Sarah and Michelle stood together in the rear lines, casting protective wards over the cannon crews. Their combined magic formed a dome of sapphire light, repelling demonic curses and Orc arrows alike.

“Salty will return to us,” whispered Michelle.

“Or we burn this world down,” growled Sarah, hurling a bolt of light straight through a charging Goblin warlock.

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🧠 The Turning Point — But Who Will Win?

Sir Salty charged through a gap in the lines, battle axe whirling, carving through Orc flesh and shattered shields. His every blow echoed like thunder. Beside him, the battered yet unbroken Dozen pushed forward, duelling their demon twins in the muck and fire.

And then — a scream from the heavens.

The Infernal Obelisks erected by the Chios demons began to glow, funneling power toward Varnaxis for his Hellflood spell.

At the same time, Salty’s engineers rolled out The Basilisk, a massive, triple-barrelled cannon capable of obliterating an entire Orc tile in a single blast.

“Light it up!” cried Salty. “End them!”

The cannon boomed.

The Obelisk cracked.

The skies split.

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🧾 Final Speculation: Who Will Win?

With armies evenly matched, both sides fielding champions, magic, and monsters… the outcome remains uncertain. But there is one edge that cannot be mirrored: human spirit, love, and sacrifice.

Sir Salty, driven not only by vengeance but by love for his Queens and loyalty to his warriors, may yet find the strength to outlast the dark.

But the price? Perhaps the lives of his beloved. Or even his own.

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