Lord of the Rings: Warriors

"...What is that..." Elandor, riding atop his dragon, suddenly froze. In his vision, a surging black tide from the southern woods was rushing north with terrifying momentum.

"Damn it... The Orc reinforcements are here!" Skai's dragon eyes narrowed slightly, capturing the movements of the Orc army deep within his gaze.

"Thranduil! The Orc reinforcements have arrived!" Elandor shouted in Elvish toward Thranduil, who was engaged in a fierce battle in front of the ruined hall of the former Elven king.

"Retreat! Thranduil! Get them out of here!" Elandor roared desperately. 

He knew all too well that the allied forces, having only occupied half the city, had no chance of withstanding an assault from both sides. 

And if his instincts were correct, the advantage the allied forces had in Tier 6 combat power would soon disappear. 

Elandor didn't believe for a second that this southern Orc reinforcement lacked warriors of that caliber.

"Roar!" A torrent of dragon fire rained down, cutting off the path of the advancing Orcs and halting their charge.

"...Damn it! Those wretched scum!" Thranduil looked at the King's Hall, now so close yet so unreachable, his eyes filled with sorrow.

"Rear guard to the front! Withdraw from Dol Guldur!" Thranduil roared with all his might, but none could hear the grief and helplessness hidden within his furious command.

"Leave this place, Thranduil! I'll go assist the others!" Elandor, anxious, maneuvered his Star Dragon away, soaring toward the battlefield below.

...

"Elandor! Dragonfire support!" Elenthor, spotting Elandor's arrival on dragonback, immediately called out with relief.

"Your Majesty! The Orc reinforcements have arrived—we need to retreat!" Elandor, directing Skai to spew fire and block the enemy's path, turned to Elenthor.

"So soon..." Elenthor sighed helplessly, his expression darkening.

"Send word to Thranduil, tell them to fall back..." Elenthor exhaled deeply, his voice carrying reluctance.

"I already did... I just informed Prince Thranduil. Now I need to warn King Rynar and Vanervi," Elandor nodded firmly.

"Be careful!" Elenthor glanced at the distant King's Hall and let out another sigh.

"Understood, Your Majesty. Make haste—withdraw and hold the bridgehead with Prince Thranduil. Do not get trapped in the city!" Elandor warned solemnly.

"Understood!" Elenthor shivered slightly; he had no intention of being caught in another dire standoff on a bridge.

...

"Elandor is here?" Rynar, watching the approaching dragon from above, turned to Omsk.

"Seems like the pressure elsewhere isn't as bad as ours?" Omsk quipped.

"Hahaha, well, reclaiming this city would have been great. At least we'd have secured control over hundreds of miles around us," Rynar chuckled.

"King Rynar! A pleasure to meet you again, but now is not the time for talk. 

Quickly organize your troops for retreat—Thranduil and my king are waiting at the bridgehead for you!" Elandor urged swiftly.

"Orc reinforcements are approaching from the south. We are outnumbered, and the allied forces cannot withstand an attack from both sides. 

Retreat is the best option." Fearing Rynar might misunderstand, Elandor reiterated his warning.

"...Motherfu—" Rynar let loose a string of colorful curses.

"Omsk! Rally the soldiers! We are pulling out!" Rynar shouted. 

After all, Dol Guldur wasn't a city of the Zaltarion Empire, and he had no reason to risk everything for the Elves. 

Since they had already decided to retreat, he saw no reason to stay and die against the Orcs.

"Frontline, switch to rear guard! Knights, prepare to charge!" Rynar glanced at the struggling Royal Guards and Elaris Woods Rangers, still holding the shield wall against the Orc warriors.

"Level your lances!"

"Prepare to charge!"

The shouts of the Zaltarion knights rang out as they broke free from the Orc skirmishers and swiftly reorganized into formation. 

The outer two ranks of knights raised their heavy lances forward, while those behind them sheathed their lances and drew their knightly swords, ready to cut down any foes who slipped through the spear wall.

"Advance!" Rynar mounted his warhorse, drawing his Dragon Slayer sword, and pointed toward the exit of Dol Guldur.

"Clatter, clatter, clatter..." 

The crisp rhythm of hooves echoed through the stone-paved streets. At first, slow and distinct, but as the steeds picked up speed, the crisp clattering grew into a deep, thunderous roar.

"Boom! Boom!" A steel tempest, composed of charging knights, swept down under Rynar's command, crashing upon the Orc army below like a relentless flood.

"Soldiers! Move to the sides! Clear the knights' path!" Omsk bellowed, his voice ringing out clearly to the Royal Guards still holding the Orcs at bay.

Hearing the command, the Royal Guards immediately opened a gap in their formation, allowing the charging knights a clear path. 

As they repositioned, Orcs flooded into their ranks, forcing them into a concave defensive line using the surrounding buildings for cover.

"Knights!" The frontmost Orcs suddenly froze in horror as they spotted the approaching cavalry at the end of the street.

What could be worse than being stuck in a narrow city street with a charging cavalry force barreling down upon you? 

Only one thing—being the unlucky Orcs in the path of said cavalry charge.

The moment the two sides collided, the Zaltarion knights cut through the Orc ranks like a hot blade through butter. 

The unfortunate Orcs stood no chance—any advantage in sheer numbers was nullified by the confined space. 

The knightly charge rampaged through them like an unrelenting tidal wave, destroying everything in its path. Nothing could halt their advance—except death itself.

"Infantry, keep up! We won't stop for you!" 

Omsk, bringing up the rear, caught up to the Royal Guards and Elaris Woods Rangers, who were finishing off any stray survivors left in the wake of the knights' charge.

Omsk glanced back at the eerily silent streets before pressing forward to join the marching infantry. 

Fortunately, the Orcs' poor coordination worked in their favor. 

If even one proper Orc detachment had moved in to pin down the infantry, their escape would have been far more difficult. 

But thankfully, the only Orcs who had tried to stop them had already been torn apart by the knights' charge.

"No stopping! No distractions! Ignore the stragglers! There will be plenty more Orcs to kill later—we're going home!" 

Omsk ordered, ensuring the soldiers didn't get drawn into unnecessary skirmishes. Right now, their only objective was to return home safely.

...

"Halt the charge!" Rynar pulled at his reins, slowing his steed.

There were no more Orcs ahead, and in the distance, banners bearing the Elven insignia fluttered at the stone bridge.

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