B4 Chapter 49: ODS (Orc Delivery System)

It wasn't long before they reached their destination---the aptly-named town of Riverbend. Or rather, former town. Marcus, Gaius, and company were warned of the town's current state by a column of smoke lazily spiraling skyward from the town's general direction.

Drawing closer simply confirmed the scouts' reports. Riverbend was in shambles. Piles of smoldering rubble sat where there may have been buildings before, with boulders and chunks of stone cast carelessly about like seeds. Amidst the carnage settled a half dozen massive forms, some sleeping while others cleaned lines of black soot from their resplendent scales. Small gems and baubles hung from their talons, the spoils of their most recent raid. One particularly large white one perched on the edge of an aqueduct that connected to Riverbend's river, lapping up the water even as frost began to coat its surface. It was the only structure that remained mostly intact.

Marcus listened from their distant location, but the town was quiet. He told himself that it was simply because they were too far away to hear the telltale sounds of human activity. Though, considering the state of the town, it wasn't likely.

Terrifying as it was, he couldn't help but feel awe at the sight. He'd hoped for only a single dragon sighting. But six? Tales rarely featured such numbers of what were usually solitary creatures.

Was it concerning? Absolutely. He had no idea what could cause such prideful creatures to work together in such a manner. But it also did mean the coming battle would be even more incredible to witness. Assuming they survived.

Gaius surveyed the situation and turned to his forces. "Legionnaires. We will allow the auxiliaries to take the lead in this engagement. Ranged weaponry will be the main focus. Form up behind the hill to avoid detection."

With the general orders given, Gaius handed it over to his Primus Pilus and centurions to organize things. The orcs formed up in rough rows, preparing to advance on the dragons as Legionnaires made their own preparations. Shields were shifted out of the way in favor of the newest generation of so-called firearms.

The sleek tubes of metal had undergone significant improvements from their earliest versions. By now, they could hurl a lead projectile with a speed and accuracy that rivaled even the Legion's most skilled sling specialists. Combined with the increased rate of fire, they were becoming a true terror on the battlefield. Marcus had even heard that they might become standard issue for the First Legion soon.

The orcs, however, didn't utilize these weapons. They were both a bit too fragile and complicated for their clumsy hands to wield yet. Instead, they armed themselves with axes, shields, and all manner of throwable projectiles. Spears, stones, and enchanted cannonballs were usually meant to be fired from the siege weapons that Legionnaires began setting up at the rear of their position.

Marcus envisioned the sight in his mind's eye. He vividly recalled the sight of the sky growing dark beneath volleys of elven arrows. Yet with the speed that these projectiles traveled, would it make for a similar sight? Or would they simply disappear in a flash?

It didn't matter. The field behind filled with cannons, their footprints still astonishingly small compared to the massive siege engines Marcus had seen before. Apparently, shooting a smaller projectile faster was more valuable than shooting a larger projectile with less speed. One of the engineers had attempted to explain it to him once, but he truly didn't care for the specifics. Only the result.

What really caught his eye, however, was a group of specialists making their debut in this battle---a particularly burly group of Legionnaires wearing thicker armor than their brethren. They lugged around miniaturized cannons composed of eight long, slender barrels set inside a housing with handles. On their backs were large containers of ammunition, connected to the cannons by long tubes to help with reloading.

They were called heavy gunners by the Legionnaires. Their projectiles were necessarily less powerful than their grounded counterparts, of course, but from what Marcus had heard... he was rather interested to see what they could do.

Larger versions of the heavy gunners' setup populated the field behind, though most of those also featured other additions like mana crystals to fuel the enchantments, massive singular barrels, or teams of engineers to man the largest cannons.

Marcus remained near the top of the hill, looking between the destroyed town and the bustling soldiers. He concealed the presence of Gaius and the other Legionnaires immediately around him with [Illusory Domain], though he didn't want to waste too much stamina on hiding the entire army.

As they finished making their preparations, one of the dragons raised its head and yawned. It turned a bleary eye toward the Legionnaires' position, evidently having heard something.

"Engage," Gaius ordered.

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The army burst into motion. The orcs began to charge around the hill and toward the resting dragons. The great scale beasts raised their heads in curiosity, then annoyance as they recognized the incoming threat. They spread their wings, taking to the sky with roars that rattled the earth.

And rising right into range of the Legion's cannons.

The roars were drowned out by a deafening series of thunderclaps. The dragons reeled as they were struck with dozens upon dozens of lead boulders, spikes, and other projectiles moving so quickly that they could hardly be seen. Holes opened up in a couple of their wings, causing the great beasts to falter.

The attacks didn't let up. The roars turned to barely audible rage as the attacks hammered the dragons, who swooped and wheeled away with impressive speed to avoid further damage. Yet even from this distance, Marcus could see the effectiveness of the attacks. Tattered wings, shattered scales, and even blood streaming down bellies. The first few volleys had taken them by surprise.

But it didn't last. The dragons caught sight of their assailants, dodging and diving toward the Legionnaires' position. The Legionnaires shot their firearms skyward, filling the air with lead to defend and forcing some of the dragons to wheel away from the assault of a thousand needles. The heavy gunners added their own fire to the mix, heavy whumps filling the air in one-second intervals. Each one was accompanied by the sound of cracking scales and bone.

The dragons quickly became fed up with their attackers. Marcus saw them wheel higher and higher, retreating from the Legion's attacks.

"Retreating already?" He called. "What happened to the pride of dragons? Or are you the cowards of your kind, fleeing in exile?"

His amplified voice crossed the distance with ease. Six pairs of reptilian eyes fixed him in their gaze, filling Marcus with a deep primordial dread. He felt his knees turn to jelly beneath him even as Gaius nodded with approval.

He didn't have [Taunt] as a skill. But then, he didn't need it.

A dragon the color of fresh grass spread its wings wide, opening its maw to spray its brethren with a strange shimmering mist. Marcus saw the holes in the dragons' wings close up before his eyes. The dragons abruptly turned in the sky, weaving around the Legion's fire as they dove back down toward the ground. Rather than dive directly into their attacks, though, the dragons adopted a more practical tactic. They banked around and swooped low, skimming the ground such that the Legion couldn't fire without risking hitting their own right in front of them.

However, the dragons were not prepared for the merciless ferocity of the orcs. The green-skinned auxiliaries raced to meet the dragons. They didn't suicidally stand below in range of their breath weapons, though. Instead, each orc paired up with the one on their right, interlocking their fingers. Then they hurled their brethren toward the diving creatures.

Half of the auxiliary cohort was airborne in a second, switching out their ranged weaponry for massive axes. Half of the dragons banked up to avoid the incoming orcs, but were forced back in place as the renewed hail of cannonfire threatened to ground them. The orcs landed atop the speeding dragons, cleaving their axes into their scales.

The dragons began to roll, attempting to shake the orcs off. A few green figures flew skyward, landing back on the ground without apparent injury. The others held fast, using axes and picks to hold fast even as the dragons roared in frustration. They filled the air with their breath, but carrying their passengers through it indirectly wasn't enough.

It was at that point that Marcus noticed something. Those baubles he'd noticed adorning the dragons seemed far more luxurious than he would expect from a town like this. Riverdell wasn't known as being particularly rich, after all. Nor were there any cities this far north. Where, then, had they gotten such treasures from?

Just as he considered that question, he saw the white dragon snarl. A sapphire the size of an egg dangled from one of its horns by a crude iron chain that he'd initially mistaken for soot. It pulsed, sending a ripple of energy through the dragon. It inhaled deeply, then exhaled its icy breath directly ahead once more.

Ice filled the air in an impenetrable white cloud, far stronger than before. When the dragon emerged from the other side, all of the orcs on its back were frozen solid, a collection of greenish-white protrusions from its back. The dragon rolled contemptuously, finally managing to dislodge them as it shot toward the Legionnaire formation.

It wasn't the only one. The other dragons, too, activated some sort of enchantments embedded in their treasures. One simply blasted the orcs off of it. Another struck them dumb and catatonic. One red dragon even looked to be completely immolated as he grilled the orcs across his body alive.

As they dealt with their respective nuisances, the dragons wheeled back toward the Legion. They opened their maws, raining down ice and flame and noxious gas onto the men's heads even as they raised their shields to defend. The Legionnaires immediately turned to assault the retreating dragons as they wheeled around for another pass.

Marcus ran toward the catatonic orcs on the ground. Rather than unconscious, they instead looked enraptured as though by some sort of charm effect. Their eyes were glassy as they stared into the distance. Even as he watched, their muscles began to deflate as the [Battle Trance] left them.

"Hey!" He slapped one on the cheek. "Wake up!"

They didn't move. Casting a furtive glance behind him, Marcus whipped out his lute and began to strum a quick [Inspirational Song], calling them to battle.There was no telling if it would get them out of this slump, but...

The orcs coughed, their eyes coming into focus once more. Startled, the one before him immediately fumbled in his pack for food to offset the [Battle Trance] backlash.

Marcus didn't waste any time. There were more nearby that needed help, and possibly a few others he could save. So long as he dodged the dragons, of course.