On the outskirts of the forest close to the village, torches have been placed on the ground within some distance from each other. Under the new moon, they would serve as the first visual warning for when the orcs came back from the forest.

  “Think the thing’ll come again tonight?” One man said amongst his fellow villagers.

  While most of the villagers are packing their things, getting ready to evacuate, some men have been assigned to watch the forest. There’s no telling when the orc would come back, so everyone’s all tense with cold sweat dripping down their faces. Eyes peeled open for the slightest change in the forest, they all watch as the torches flicker in the distance.

  The man that asked the question earlier turned his head around to look at his fellow watchers around him until, all tensed, one of them answered. “Sure hope they-” only to be cut off mid sentence.

  He got hit with something and was knocked back with a violent force. In the dark of night, it wasn’t clear what he got hit with, but it couldn’t be anything good. Though their eyes hadn’t caught anything, every other watcher there heard something pierced through the wind, whistling along the way as it made its way from the forest.

  The watchers then immediately whipped their sight back towards the forest and saw a large number of orcs all spread out slowly making their way towards the torches lined around the forest. The sight of such a large pack of monsters stunned them. There must be at least fifty of them emerging out of the darkness.

  Once they regained their wit, one of the watchers then whipped their head towards the village to call out the threat. “O—” a sound came out, but before any word could be formed, he was cut short by an arrow that pierced through his chest.

  When their heads caught up to what their eyes saw, panic started to rise within the watcher and they immediately let out a collective scream as they started running back to the village’s square where everyone was preparing for their evacuation. All except one.

  Scared out of his wits, he dropped to the ground before scuttling away and making himself as small as possible. “Goddess, please…” He muttered under his breath, praying in hopes that he’d live through the night.

  From where the man is on the ground, he watched the orcs slowly marching towards him. One of them in particular, the one that sniped the two watchers with its bow, is lagging a little behind the rest of the pack.

  The bow in its hand looked crude and rough. The craftsmanship that went into the creation of that bow was evidently lacking to the point that not only does it look like it lacked any sort of style, but also looks like it wouldn’t perform well as a weapon.

  Such crude limbs would have decreased the bow’s accuracy, especially over longer distances. But what it lacks in precision, it makes up for in power. The limbs may lack any sense of art or craftsmanship, but if it has one thing going for it, it is how sturdy it actually is.

  The crude bow’s limbs are thicker than the warbows that humans usually use—crafted for brute strength. Even if its arrows could only find its marks two times out of three, when they did, they would easily punch through whatever they hit.

  Now that the orcish archer had lowered its weapon, the watcher felt relief—convinced that he had made it out of their sight. He let out a relaxed sigh, and released a little tension off his body, letting his limbs relax a little while still keeping himself as little as possible under the veil of night.

  “Thank you, dear Goddess.” He muttered silently. Unfortunately, he was ahead of himself. Another orc, still a distance away from him, raised its own bow in turn after the first orcish archer lowered its bow.

  This one is much more well crafted than the other orcs’ bow. Its limbs may be shorter and slimmer by a long run, but there’s clear craftsmanship evident just from how even both limbs are. Though well crafted, it’s a little odd how small the bow looks in the giant’s hand.

  It's a light hunting bow crafted by Carmul’s craftsmen to be used for hunting small game. The orcs had probably noticed them on the ground on their way here and picked it up for their own use.

  The orc took an arrow from a quiver he had hanging on one of its shoulders and nocked it on the bowstring. Seeing this, the watcher’s face quickly paled and all tensions left him when the orc pulled the bowstring back as he accepted his fate, letting his bladders completely empty itself on the spot.

  Then, just before the orc could loose its arrow, the bow gave a loud crack—the limb fractured and the string snapped beneath the force the monster used to pull on it. As the limbs recoiled toward their unbent shape, the cracked section gave out completely, shattering and flinging splinters in all directions.

  Confused, the orc inspected what remains of the bow in his hand. Half of one of the bow’s limbs is now on the ground alongside countless pieces of wood splinters and only half of the bow string now remains on the bow itself.

  This failure earned the orc a slap on the back of its head from the first archer. It turned around in anger when it was hit, but quickly scoffed and backed down after seeing which orc had hit it—lowering its head in submission.

  The man saw this as his chance to make a run for it. After soiling his pants, he quickly got up to his feet and bolted away from the pack of orcs. Then, from behind him, he heard one orc let out a bellowing roar, quickly followed by the others in a series of cries. When he looked back, he found that the monsters had started chasing him at full speed.

  Muttering prayers under his breath, repeatedly pleading to the Goddess to save him as if chanting, the man quickly whipped his head back forward and leaned his body forward to run faster.

  The monsters behind him moved quickly around the village houses guided by the lingering smell the humans left as they ran. Soon enough, they were able to catch up to the watcher that was late to make his escape and their mouths water in anticipation of the meal before them.

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  Reaching out while racing each other to be the first to grab the human, one of the orcs snatched him mid sprint by the torso as another snatched his arm. Behind them, one that’s a little bit late had to stop mid sprint and tumbled forward when he couldn’t quite grab the man.

  “No! No no no! Please, Goddess save me!” The man screamed in terror, still begging for the divine to save him even as the orc brought his body ever so closer to its gaping and watering mouth.

  Just before the monster could chow down on the man’s body, a fist came from the back of its head. The sudden blow caused the orc to drop its food and the man quickly sprinted away once his feet found the ground. “Thank you, dear Goddess!” He shouted just as he ran away.

  Just as the orc that grabbed the man’s torso was just about to fill his belly with fresh meat, the orc that grabbed the man’s arm thought of the human to be rightfully theirs. The first one to grab the human should be the one that gets to eat him and they started fighting each other over who would be the one to have their dinner first.

  Meanwhile, the man was quickly getting further and further away from the two just before a large hand came in front of him and snatched him from the ground. The orc that was too slow to catch the man earlier, while it had tumbled in its attempt, now had him in its hand.

  “No, don-” The man pleaded, only to be cut off as the orc immediately chomped down on its prey. The big bite it took removed the man’s head off his shoulder and the rest of his body went limp in the monster’s hand.

  The rest of the pack are still running through the village following the appetizing smell of fresh meat that gets stronger with each step that they take. Eventually, they exited the village to find the villagers all running alongside livestocks and wagons pulled by horses.

  The orcs picked up their pace, refusing to let their prey get away, and with their powerful strides, they quickly closed the distance between them and the villagers.

  Most of their prey had to run on foot as they didn’t have enough room on the caravan to carry enough people. The food they brought is taking up too much space that could have been occupied by people to move faster.

  But then again, the wagons and carts aren’t exactly moving that fast either. Pulled only by one or two horses each, they aren’t really built for speed. Rather, for steady travel over long distances.

  When the horses run as fast as their legs could go, the vehicle they pull behind them shakes vigorously, threatening to break at any moment. Inside, everyone was thrown about wildly and they had to hold on for dear life so that they wouldn't be thrown out the back of the cart.

  “Stay away, you monsters!” One of the older men in the back of the group shouted as he threw the torch in his hand towards the orcs behind him.

  The torch landed on the ground way before it could reach the orcs that are still quite a good distance away from the running villagers and it had little effect other than to terrify fellow villagers as they caught sight of the beasts lit by the torch on the ground.

  Lyra saw the orcs as they ran around the torch on the ground and noticed them quickly catching up. She was confident in her safety being in the same wagon as Gale who could practice spirit arts, but in this situation, if she failed to ensure the safety of her people, rather than the mouth watering rewards she’s hoping for, she might be charged with failure to fulfill her duties. Still, she hesitates to show everyone what the young boy is blessed with.

  “Lose the cattle!” She shouted at the top of her lungs. “Lose the cattle to the orcs and run for your life!”. In hopes that the monsters would chase after the livestock instead of the people, Lyra decided that they should send the animals away.

  Looking behind her, she found that while most of the animals are being diverted away towards the side, some villagers are still herding their livestock along. Thinking that some of them might have been too far away for her voice to reach, she put her hand on the sack of grain stacked in front of her and got up while hanging onto anything she could.

  The wagon was shaking so badly that it was hard enough just to get onto her feet, but she was able to slowly make her way towards the back. Grabbing onto the canvas covering her wagon, she shouted again “The cattle! Lose the-” just as the wagon shook over the uneven road, causing her to bite her own tongue.

  She covered her mouth with her hand just as blood started to seep out. Then, the wagon hit another bump and she fell on her rear. Not only her, everyone and everything inside the vehicle was being thrown around. Among them, one of the sacks of grains was thrown towards the open back of the wagon.

  Seeing the large sack flying, Lyra immediately acted and she caught the sack by its edge. The weight unfortunately proved to be too much and it fell towards the ground and Lyra had to drag it along behind the wagon so it wouldn’t become a hazard to the vehicle behind her.

  Unfortunately, the ones inside the vehicle behind her were not as quick on their feet. When the wagon in front of Lyra’s hit a bump, a sack of grain flew out of the back and no one inside was quick enough to catch it.

  The sack hit the ground with a dull thud before tumbling a few times on the ground. The horses immediately behind it were following too close and were moving too fast to react, and one of them ended up running into the stray sack.

  When one of the two horses tripped over the sack and fell, the sudden yank pulled the wagon tongue down along with it into the ground. Now with only one horse still striding forward, the wagon veered to the side—off balance and uncontrollable.

  Those running beside the wagons were the first casualties. Some are struck by the wheels—yanked off their feet and dragged to the ground before being crushed by the wheels running over them. That is, if they are lucky. Others, not so fortunate, have loose cloth or their limbs snagged by the spokes and their body got pulled into the wheel to be twisted and folded.

  Others hit by the side of the wagon itself were knocked off their feet and fell to the ground tumbling and narrowly missed by the wheel as the cart passed above them–only to then get trampled by the horses or the people behind them in the caravan.

  The vehicles following were also not able to react on time. With the horses galloping at full speed, the drivers with their limited vision at night had little chance to steer away. The following vehicles smashed into the front and each other in a devastating chain reaction.

  The chain crashes caused everything in the middle to get caught up in the pileup, resulting in some people being crushed between vehicles and others thrown high to the air by the impact. Should they survive the landing, loose cargo or fellow riders that were sitting beside them soon followed to crush them underneath.

  The final cart in the caravan, furthest one on the back, had just enough time to react. Before the cloud of dust kicked up by the crashes covered the chaos up front, the driver was able to jerk his reins, guiding the panicked horse sharply to the side. They were able to just narrowly avoid the pileup.

  Unlucky for them, a man that escaped the initial chaos was blindly running towards the same direction. While both were trying to escape the chaos of chain crashes, they instead ran into each other.

  The man ended up knocked under and trampled by the horse pulling the cart, stumbling it, while the horse pulled the cart down when it fell, sending the cart into a violent jackknife. Those riding in the cart were thrown forward before quickly crashing down to earth as the vehicle lurched and overturned.

  By the wildest stroke of luck, some would make it out of the crash largely unharmed. Those that were somewhat fortunate are quickly killed during the chain of accidents, while those that are unfortunate, their broken bones are likely now piercing through their own flesh, but only if they aren’t crushed outright beneath whatever it is they’re unlikely enough to be underneath. Though they would soon perish, they weren’t spared the few moments of mindbreaking pain piercing all throughout their body.