The Birth Of A Legend

[Detroix]

Roughly 20 years ago

It was already sundown when Karol and his army reached the mountain pass. The Gorlogs were already awaiting them. Hundreds of large, hairy creatures, humanoid in posture with elongated faces, similar to those of dogs. They wielded an array of primitive weapons, such as clubs, hammers, axes, slingshots and javelins. They wore barely any armor or clothes. But Karol’s troops weren’t in a better state, except a small core of mercenaries and men at arms. He was hoping for some of the nobles to join, but they prefered to either stay loyal to their elven overlords or rally their own armies. Useless, spoiled buffoons.

As Karol came nearer and nearer the creatures, his horse started acting up. It was going on reluctantly, often stopping, rocking to the sides or just made noise. Horses were afraid of Gorlogs, which greatly added to the safety provided by the mountains. Karol raised his fist, signalling the army to stop. He got off his horse and started walking towards the Gorlogs. Piotr, his second in command followed behind. From the Gorlog mass three creatures stepped out. The central one was wearing what looked like reforged elven armor. The two other ones were holding long staffs and had patterns painted all over their bodies. They also wore a number of ornamental chains, necklaces and bracelets.

Karol took of his helmet and begun to speak. “I’m glad to finally meet you in person Chief. Are you ready to cement our agreement?”

The Chief also took of his helmet and approach Karol. The human was quite tall and muscular, he couldn’t compare to the Gorlog. The creature spoke, making a series of roars and barks. Though he could not speak the Gorlog tongue, Karol somehow understood what he spoke. “May the spirits be kind to you, human. My shamans are ready to bind us in the pact.”

The two other Gorlogs now stood to their sides and begun speaking in unison. “Oh spirits of the mountains and the sky. Oh spirits of the forests and the rivers. Spirits of our ancestors. Bear witness to this agreement between General Karol and Chief Karakal and hold them in it until it is completed or their death. If any of them deceives another and refuses to fullfill the promise, punish them with all your wrath.”

“I, Chief Karakal, will pay tribute to Karol and aid him in his war against the Aurelian Emperor and his armies.”

“I, Karol, will elevate Karakal to High Chief, after my victory over the Emperor.”

Karol felt a presence around him, as if hundreds of eyes were watching him. The feeling lasted mere seconds, but he still felt as if something watched him from behind, just at the edge of his vision. It took a lot of effort not to turn around.

“The pact is now sealed, human. When will the elves arrive?” The Chief asked, as if nothing happened.

"A day, maybe longer. I’m still waiting for my scouts to return. " Karol replied, trying to maintain a steady tone.

“Yesterday group of humans arrived. Cossacks from the east, led by a man calling himself Avarov. He said he was waiting for you.” The Chief said as they were walking towards the valley. “As soon as he learned of your arrival, he wanted to meet with you.”

Karol looked at Piotr. The shorter, slightly overweight man with greying blonde hair wasn’t much of a warrior. But he was an excellent administrator and organizer. “I will take care of the camp. You go meet with that Avarov. Any additional ally will be useful.” He said.

“Where can I find this Avarov?”

[Detroix]

Karol walked through the Gorlog camp and the area where his own soldiers started to set up camp. Beyond them there was another camp, with thousands of people. But there were even more horses, at least three times the amount of people. After asking around a bit, he was led to larger central tent where a group of men where sitting around a campfire.

Usually his impressive height, around 1.80 meters, full plate armor and muscles he gained through the years of war intimidated many people. But not only they didn’t seem bothered, they just ignored him.

“Is any of you Avarov?” Karol asked loudly, to get through the noise of their talk.

“I am.” One of them said. He was shorter than Karol, with dark hair and brown eyes, which were a bit unsettling. He was in his early twenties, about Karol’s age. His posture was rather frail compared to Karol’s, but that didn’t stop him from carrying a sabre and an impressive longbow. “Ataman Vasily Pavlovich Avarov. And you must be Karol, the peasant turned general. You should think about getting a surname with that sort of position.” His tone and general manerism was very nonshalant. He behaved like a young noble’s son on his father’s estate talking to his servants.

What Avarov said was true. Karol was just another peasant a couple years ago. But after the Aurelian Emperor started to revoke privilages of human cities and they banded together everything changed. He joined his citie’s garrison and after leading a sally that relieved its siege and organizing a successfull partizan group he made a name for himself. After a series of humiliating defeats the cities decided that there needed to be a change of leadership and, with the help of Piotr’s money and connections he made as a wealthy merchant, Karol got an army. Now, he marched east after receiving an alliance offer from one of the Gorlog chiefs pillaging every village he encountered to deny the pursuing elves supply and recruiting any human villagers he met.

“Why did you want to speak with me?”

“I want to join you. These elves need to be tought a lesson. And they’ve got a bunch of money. Life hasn’t been easiest after the Great Khan expelled us.” Karol looked suspiciously at Avarov. The Great Khan wasn’t an enemy you’d like to anger.

“One of his lapdogs wanted to collect tribute from us. We showed him his place, thanks to Avarov, but his master wasn’t happy. So he banished us and forbid to ever cross these mountains.” One of the cossacks explained.

“So, you in or not?” Avarov asked.

“I’m in. But remember I’m the general. You follow my orders.” Cossacks were known to be very unruly, often disregarding any authority that wasn’t their own.

“As long as we get our share of plunder, we are loyal to you.”

[Detroix]

As the sun set the scouts arrived. The Aurelian army was less than a day away, numbering between 20 and 25 thousand. Leading it was prince Sallel, second in line to the Imperial throne. At least 5 thousand were light cavalry, the rest mostly light infantry. There was a small contingent of heavy knights, but they mist likely served as the prince’s guard.

Karol’s army was smaller, numbering 14 thousand after the most recent additions. 8 thousand were peasants conscripted along the way from burnt down villages. Another 2 thousand were better equipped mercenaries or men-at-arms. Mostly heavy infantry and 500 heavy cavalry. Now he had also 3 thousand of Cossack light cavalry and a thousand Gorlog warriors. And most importantly, Gorlog shamans, perfect counter for the elven mages.

He watched as the soldiers, under Piotr’s leadership, dug ditches filled with wooden spikes and constructed a tabor. It was a type of makeshift fortifications made from reinforced carts chained together. They would usually be put in a square on an elevated position, serving as a mobile castle that traveled with an army.

This time the fortification would be composed of just one line, as the steep walls of the narrow valley shielded their flanks. It would be positioned right where the valley was curving upwards, so the enemies would have to advance uphill, exposed to fire. On the cliffs above the valley would be positioned additional archers, crossbowmen and 4 cannons, Karol’s secret weapon. He also considered putting the handcannons there too, but they would be much more effective on a closer range. All these preparations and a highly defensive position hopefully would even out the odds.

---

Prince Sallel was furious. What was supposed to be a quick punitive expedition, just like many others, turned into a wild goosechase to the furthest edges of the Empire. A third of his army died along they way from starvation, diseases and ambushes, leaving him with just 20 thousand men. And the Gorlog High Chief, tribute to the Empire, refused to provide troops, saying that “He already did supply them to another army”. After the rebels were crushed, he would remind that oversized monkey where is his place.

The undersupplied and tired army reached the mountains and sunrise and set up camp on one of the hills at the valley’s entrance.

“My lord, shall we send an envoy to offer them surrender?” One of his advisors asked.

“No.”

“But my lord…”

“Silence!” He yelled out. He wasn’t in a mood for pointless conversations like this one. “This rabble of insubordinate human peasants had their chance to surrender before they defied me so many times. Tomorrow, I will crush their puny rebellion once and for all.”