Rise of the Horde-Chapter 425 -

Khao'khen with the orcish march his warriors towards the capital on the sixth day. His warriors still thirsting for battle was spearheading their advance, the Rakshas with the heroic Arkagarr took pint in their advance.

The orcish warriors thirsting to accomplished the same as what their heroic comrade had done were thirsting for more such battles.

Khao'khen and his warriors continued their march, their battle cries echoing through the land. The orcs, with their fierce reputation, struck fear into the hearts of all who heard of their approach. Their thirst for battle was insatiable, and they yearned to prove their might against the capital's defenses.

Alongside them, the Rakshas, led by the valiant Arkagarr, added to the formidable force. Their alliance was a force to be reckoned with, and their advance was met with growing trepidation. As they drew closer to their destination, the orcish warriors' determination only grew stronger.

They had heard tales of their comrades' heroic deeds and sought to carve their own legacy alongside them. Their battle-hardened faces wore expressions of eager anticipation, for they craved the glory that awaited them. The clatter of their weapons and armor, coupled with their fierce war chants, sent a clear message to all who dared oppose them.

The capital loomed on the horizon, a beacon of civilization amidst the wild lands. Yet, the orcs and their allies cared not for the comforts of peace. Their eyes gleamed with a hunger for conquest, and their hearts beat as one, driven by a singular purpose. Khao'khen, at the forefront, embodied the spirit of their mission, and his warriors followed unwaveringly in his wake. Their footsteps shook the earth, signaling the coming of a battle that would echo through the ages.

In front of the towering walls of the capital, Khao'khen and his horde let out a sonorous battle cry which gave the defenders a fright. Although the siege was yet to begin, the very presence of the orcs outside the walls were giving such an aura that nothing would prevent them from taking down the capital.

As Khao'khen and his horde continued their relentless march towards the capital, their battle cries reverberating across the land, a different sort of unrest was brewing within the walls of the city. The faction of the queen, ever vigilant, noticed a peculiar energy emanating from within the palace. It was an aura that did not belong, a disturbance in the force that surrounded the seat of power.

Intrigued and concerned, some of the queen's sisters embarked on a quest to uncover the source of this strange phenomenon.

Their investigation led them to a chilling discovery—the presence of demon spawn lurking in the very heart of the palace. The queen's faction now found themselves facing a dual threat, one from the outside and another from within.

The orcish horde, with their fierce reputation and thirst for battle, was a force to be reckoned with, but these new developments suggested a deeper, more insidious plot at play.

The sisters, armed with this newfound knowledge, prepared to face the challenges that lay ahead.

They understood the gravity of the situation, knowing that their fate hung in the balance.

As Khao'khen and his warriors drew closer, their battle-hardened faces resolute, the defenders of the city braced themselves for a confrontation that would shape the destiny of their kingdom. The stage was set for an epic clash, where the lines between who is right and who is wrong is at stake. History is written by the victory, that was what was commonly known, whoever wins have the right to write the history of war according to their arrangements.

Outside the walls, the orcish horde built up their camp. Walls of low-lying dirt were erected around the city, soldiers were busy keeping to their assigned task.

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting an orange hue over the landscape as Khao'khen and his horde readied themselves for their first night camped outside the capital. The air was thick with anticipation, and the orcs' eyes glittered with anticipation in the fading light. They had come far, and their thirst for battle remained unquenched.

The Rakshas, ever vigilant, kept a watchful eye on the city, their filled with the thirst for more brutal battles.

As night fell, the orcish camp transformed into a sea of flickering shadows, the light of campfires reflecting off the warriors' armor. The sound of their battle chants and the beat of drums filled the air, a stark contrast to the silent, looming capital.

Within the city, the defenders braced themselves, the walls standing tall and imposing, a barrier between the wild horde and the heart of their realm.

Unbeknownst to both sides, the demon spawn within the palace stirred, their presence a ticking time bomb. The sisters of the queen's faction, armed with this knowledge, prepared for a battle on two fronts, their resolve unwavering. The stage was set, and as the moon rose, casting an eerie light over the land, all knew that the coming days would shape the destiny of their world.

The night sky, illuminated by the moon's eerie glow, set the stage for an impending battle that would forever alter the course of the war. As Khao'khen and his horde settled for the night, their camp a bustling sea of activity, the Rakshas, ever vigilant, picked up strange vibrations in the earth.

It was a subtle rumbling, almost indiscernible, but it signaled a new threat emerging from the depths. The orcs, with their keen sense of battle, also felt the disturbance, their bloodlust momentarily paused by this unfamiliar sensation. Within the palace, the demon spawn stirred, their presence an ominous sign. The sisters of the queen's faction, armed with their newfound knowledge, prepared for the worst.

They understood that the city faced an massive threat, and their resolve to protect themselves and their interest burned fiercely. The defenders on the walls, though unaware of the demon spawn, felt the weight of the approaching horde and the Rakshas' relentless advance.

The capital, usually a beacon of tranquility, found itself enveloped in an aura of impending doom. The citizens, unaware of the full extent of the danger, went about their nightly routines, their heads filled with tales of the orcish horde.

Outside, Khao'khen and his warriors, their eyes gleaming with anticipation, prepared for the coming clash, their battle cries echoing into the night, a chilling foretaste of what was to come.

Out on the vast sandy horizon, the rulers of the terrain were out and about, their movements mixing up the grain of sands. Their spike covered bodies crawling around, waiting for the chaotic battle that was about to come.

The night wore on, and a thick blanket of darkness enveloped the land, pierced only by the flickering lights of the orcish camp. A heavy silence fell, broken only by the occasional clash of metal as warriors sharpened their weapons.

Khao'khen, his eyes gleaming with a fierce light, addressed his warriors, his voice carrying across the camp. He spoke of conquest, of the glory that awaited them within the capital's walls, and of the legacy they would forge. His words stirred the blood of his warriors, their battle cries echoing in response, a promise of violence to come.

Beyond the camp, the vast sandy horizon shifted and changed, the rulers of the terrain sensing the impending battle. The air crackled with anticipation, the orcs' bloodlust palpable, a force that seemed to bend the very elements to their will. The Rakshas, their eyes gleaming with otherworldly wisdom, stood vigilant, their presence adding to the formidable might of the orcish horde. Together, they awaited the coming dawn, when the walls of the capital would tremble before their onslaught.

As the first rays of sunlight bathed the landscape in a golden light, the orcish horde sprang into action. With a thunderous roar, they charged towards the capital, their battle cries mingling with the clash of steel and the pounding of drums. The defenders on the walls, their hearts steady, loosed a hail of arrows, but the orcs were undeterred. Scaling ladders were raised, and the first wave of warriors clambered upwards, their faces set in grim determination.

The orcs mixed with their Drakhar allies began storming the walls. A rain of rocks accompanied their advance, with a scarce wave of magical attacks. Khao'khen aware of the barrier that protects the capital tasked the mages in their side to unleash a storm of magic to cover their advance.

The magic cannons on their side were yet to make their announcement upon the battlefield. The number of magic crystals available to them was but limited which in turn limits the number of shots that they could unleash with the said weapons.

Empowered by the knowledge that only few would be defending the walls of the city, the Drakhars emboldened by such knowledge charge forth with confidence. The orc hanging behind them further encouraged them in their advance.

Although the capital of the kingdom was fortified by the magic towers, there was nothing that they could do against such an attack unless they get within the range of the magical towers that fortified the defense of the capital.