A thick wooden plank, edged in iron, slanted down from the siege tower onto the western wall of Damu. The end of the dropped drawbridge was studded with dozens of thick iron spikes, hammered in tight.
Their pointed heads protruded sharply, designed to gouge into the wall's cracks on impact. The force had bent a few into hooked shapes, now biting into Damu's stone like vicious teeth.
The roughly woven wooden bridge was scorched and cracked from fire, with embers still glowing red along the edges. Blackened sections split open, revealing the pale grain beneath, and thin smoke seeped from the gaps. Where iron met stone, loose gravel cascaded down with each heavy orc footfall.
Iron chains rattled tautly as they shook.
The orcs' drawbridge hadn't fully settled—it hung at a precarious angle. One wrong step, and you'd plummet straight down. Below, burning oil still dripped, its flames flickering red against the darkness beneath.
"Okkkkkkkkaaaaaaaaaa!! Ulla!!"
The orcs charged forward, bellowing the name of their cruel god of destruction, Okka, toward the enemies ahead.
Their bodies were patched with thick iron plates. Each stomp toward their foes made the wood beneath scream in protest. The plank shuddered violently.
In the firelight and soot, their exposed skin showed black stains. Rough, cracked hides like burn scars, twisted with rope-thick welts. Jutting tusks poked from under their jaws, hot breath hissing between teeth.
Orc shoulders were layered with double or triple iron plates, each scarred with gouges and dents. Animal skulls dangled from their chests, clattering with bone fragments and metal shards.
The lead orc gripped a serrated axe, its broad, heavy blade chipped along the edge.
Dried black clots clung to the jagged gaps. Another orc held a round, thick shield wrapped in beast hide.
The orcs thundered across the narrow bridge dropped from the siege tower.
Their weighted steps pounded the span—thud, thud—propelling them onward. The wooden bridge swayed wildly, chains clanking.
One orc's foot slipped for a split second. But the one behind shoved its back, sending it hurtling forward even faster.
"OKKA— Shashuuut!"
Their roars scraped like rusted metal. The sound cut through the smoke and heat, spreading across the wall.
The orc reached the bridge's end.
More stone crumbled where the hooks bit in.
The orc shook its head side to side, scanning.
Through the black smoke carried on the wind, it glared at the soldiers on the wall.
In that instant, a flash of metal slashed across its vision.
"You orc bastard!"
With a short, solid shout, a Dawi soldier thrust his spear straight ahead.
The keen steel pierced the orc's chest.
It wedged between the overlapping plates, finding the seam.
A dull rupture echoed.
The charging orc lurched forward, then reeled back.
Its mouth gaped. A massive hot breath burst between its tusks.
The Dawi's spear shaft bent but didn't snap.
The soldier shoved forward another step, spear in hand.
The tip burst out the orc's back, black blood spraying.
The orc's foot slipped off the wall's edge.
Its body, off-balance, tumbled over the side.
A brief fall.
"Uwaaaa!"
The orc's fading cry echoed from below.
Crunch—!
Then a massive sound drowned the orcs' war cries.
—BOOM!—
A catapult stone smashed into the parapet.
Stone dust exploded outward, fragments scattering and clanging off armor and shields, mingling chaotically with the other noises.
The wall trembled.
Short screams, curses, the clash of metal—all tangled endlessly.
The orcs didn't stop.
Another wave poured onto the drawbridge.
As soon as the first fell, the next filled the gap.
Heavy footfalls hammered the span in succession.
—Thud thud THUD thud thud thud—
It shook like a herd of massive beasts stampeding across the narrow bridge.
Pushing, shoving, trampling—forward, always forward. The orcs tangled and spilled onto Damu's wall.
Whoosh—!
Arrows whistled in.
Black lines crossed through the fog and smoke.
Incoming shafts thudded into orc shoulders.
The orcs kept charging, arrow shafts quivering in pierced flesh.
Sticky blood spattered the wall's stone.
A few charging orcs bounced off and plummeted over the side. The spear-wielding Dawi held his ground.
But then the second, the third orc slammed in one after another. Weight piled on. The front Dawi slid back a step.
That single step was the opening.
Seizing the gap, an orc slipped sideways and swung its axe down.
Armor blocked it. Metal scraps flew.
The Dawi elbowed the orc's face. A dull thud rang out brief. The orc's head snapped sideways, breath rasping harshly.
Black blood sprayed, staining the wall's stone.
The orc staggered back but didn't fall. It lifted its head again with a wheezing gasp. Beneath its crushed snout, bloodshot eyes gleamed red.
The Dawi didn't hesitate. Seizing the broken balance, he shouldered forward. Armor clashed against armor with a sharp ring.
"Gor'kha Dawi!"
But from behind, another orc piled onto the Dawi.
Shields locked. An axe blade scraped down the rim. Metal tore with a screech.
Another Dawi, eyes wide and roaring, shoved back against the orc.
He raised his shield high, bracing his legs and kicking off the ground. Short, sturdy feet dug into the stone like roots; the force from shoulder and shield met head-on.
Yet the orc assault from the siege tower didn't let up.
When one orc fell back, another immediately took its place. Axe blades rained on shields; flanks took body slams. Weight layered on. The Dawi's feet skidded on stone. Knees buckled briefly under the strain.
The Dawi kicked off the ground once more.
In an instant, orcs and Dawi tangled atop the wall.
Spears snapped, shields splintered. Bodies toppled, only for more to collapse atop them. A hand twitched underfoot; iron-shod boots clanked over it, crushing down.
Muwa manifested hands from the air, gripping spears and hurling them at the orcs on the drawbridge.
Following close, Muwa winged soldiers spread their wings, streaking across the wall in a steep dive. With wings unfurled, they swung feather-blades, slicing through the orcs.
The orcs fired arrows up at the Muwa winged soldiers.
Rough hands yanked bowstrings taut. One arrow pierced a wing. A Muwa winged soldier screamed, spiraling down in a twist. He hit the wall and lay still, trampled by a charging orc's feet.
The Dawi line, holding back the onslaught, steadily gave ground.
Three orcs shoved through the others and slammed into a Dawi shield at once.
The shield-bearing Dawi dropped to one knee. An axe fell from above. His helm split. Beside him, another Dawi stabbed an orc's leg with his spear. Flesh tore, the leg buckled. The orc toppled, and the one behind tripped over it, rolling together.
But from the siege tower, orcs kept pouring out.
The sound of blades gouging flesh, splintering shield shards, spear tips snapping as they wedged into armor. Defenders and ravenous pillagers alike scanned endlessly for flesh to feed their starving axes.
Scratches multiplied on the Dawi soldiers' armor; shields cracked, edges fraying. Catapult stones hammered the wall. Stone fragments scattered everywhere.
One Dawi dropped his shield. Another regripped his spear. Someone pushed up from a knee. Underfoot, blood and stone chips ground together with a gritty crunch.
Day faded as the sun dipped low.
The drawbridge, stained with blood and darkened to crimson, still swayed. Another orc wave surged across it.
One Dawi was pushed back to the wall's inner edge. Behind him, empty air. An orc roared and swung its axe down. The Dawi twisted aside. The blade shattered stone. In that moment, a spear from the side pierced the orc's ribs. The orc staggered. With his last strength, the Dawi shoved his shield forward.
The orc tumbled over the wall.
But the spot was instantly filled by another orc—and then another.
Fallen soldiers' places were taken by others, only for more Dawi to fall in turn.
Banda raced along the wall, positioning troops. He tossed fresh spears to those who'd lost theirs, plugging gaps with his own body.
A catapult stone struck Damu's wall again. Debris flew. Smoke and stone dust mixed, veiling the base.
Seizing the gap, heavy dragging sounds layered from below the wall. Wood scraping stone, iron rims clanging against the barrier.
Through the smoke, massive ladders emerged.
Not one.
Three, four—rising simultaneously to hook the wall.
Stout logs framed together. Side pillars reinforced with iron plates and thick nails; steps thick enough to withstand hooves without breaking. Scorch marks dotted them, but the structures held firm.
Below, orcs shoved the ladders forward.
Thud.
Thud.
More ladders hooked the wall.
Stone cracked, powder trickling down.
"Ladders! Over here too!"
Orcs scrambled up the first ladder. A larger shadow followed close.
A Minotaur.
As it crested the wall, its massive silhouette loomed over the Dawi soldiers ahead.
Thick plates layered its shoulders, edges crumpled and gapped, seams rusted through. Beneath the iron helm, stout horns thrust forward; where metal met horn, worn grooves from years of rubbing.
Chest and belly wrapped in multiple iron layers, but uneven—hammer marks, scratches, deep dents tangled thick. Each exhale puffed steam through helm slits.
"Push back those Minotaur bastards!"
Banda charged toward the nearest ladder.
Two orcs had already climbed more than halfway. Banda dropped his shield and grabbed the top. He heaved with all his might.
It didn't budge.
"This!!! Lad...der...! Push it together!"
Three Dawi soldiers piled on. Shoulders braced.
Below, orcs yelled. The ladder slammed back against the wall.
Banda shoved again, stepping back and leaning his whole body in. Iron scraped stone with a grinding screech.
The ladder tilted slightly.
An orc near the top lost balance.
"Now!"
Banda poured in his final strength.
The ladder peeled away from the wall.
Climbing orcs tumbled backward; steps snapped one by one as the frame buckled, collapsing with the remaining orcs into the depths below.
But the other hooked ladders stood firm.
Banda spun and ran.
As he went, an orc hurled itself over the wall. Banda thrust his spear straight. It pierced the orc's chest. He kicked it off, sending it plummeting.
But another orc lunged immediately. Its blade grazed, leaving a deep gash in his armor. Metal ground, sparks flying. Blood welled.
Banda twisted his spear.
He spun the shaft, stabbing the foe's wrist. The blade sank into flesh with a short thud. The axe dropped. He rammed his shoulder, shoving the orc back.
A Minotaur atop the wall raised its axe high.
The blade, caked in blood and dirt, gleamed under the wall's torchlight. It peaked overhead and halted.
"Tēlei tous Mua! Tēlei Dávī!" (Kill the Muwa! Kill the Dawi!)
At the bellow, the Minotaur's axe tilted downward from above.
Poised as if to smash down any second, it glared at the Dawi on the wall.
From the drawbridge, orcs still surged; other ladders swarmed with orcs and Minotaurs climbing together. Soldiers toppled one ladder only to face enemies bursting from another.
Spears ran short. Helms clattered to the wall's floor. No time to back each other—no respite to turn.
"Cover the rear!"
"Left! Another one's up!"
Banda ran again without a breath.
Enemies poured from ladders and drawbridge, shaking the wall in two streams.
"Right flank's collapsing."
Before Banda could finish, a shield on the right shattered to pieces. Two orcs shoved through the gap at once.
Pushed back, tangled, toppled, trampled—chaos reigned. Metal shrieks and screams, roars and cracking stone fused into one mass, thundering skyward. The siege tower clamped to Damu's wall still spewed orcs.
And there the Dawi stood, holding back the invaders.