"Retreat!" Thranduil shouted, his voice filled with anger and desperation as he saw his people falling to the Orcs.
A powerful wood-based energy gathered around him, and a blue crescent moon formed behind him.
"Bang!" Thranduil released the crescent moon, which flew around the battlefield with deadly precision. Orcs within a fifty-meter radius of Thranduil were cut down mercilessly.
"An Elf Stalker? The highest-level ranger?" Even Roland and his party, observing from a hillside, were struck by the sight of the crescent moon.
"The Moon of the Hunt," Kaslow explained. "It's a unique combat skill of the Stalker. The crescent moon automatically targets marked enemies within fifty meters."
"The Woodland Kingdom is more formidable than I thought," Roland remarked, impressed by the elven power. Elves, with their long lifespans, could become highly skilled professionals, unlike their human counterparts. Thranduil had brought nearly 5,000 elven professionals to the battlefield, though their low population and poor fertility rates were a significant drawback.
"Ow!" Giant trolls emerged, carrying small trebuchets on their backs. They braced their arms on the ground to steady the trebuchets, and orcs loaded boulders into them.
"Boom!" Boulders crashed into River Valley City, sending elven archers and human soldiers flying. The walls crumbled under the onslaught.
"Kill! For the Goddess of the Forest!" An elf ranger, seeing his comrades in peril, charged into the fray.
"Hold the line!" Human defenders with spears fought desperately to repel the orcs scaling the crumbling walls.
A troll, with a battering ram mounted on its head, charged the outer wall, breaking it down and creating a wide breach.
"Abandon the walls! Prepare for street fighting!" Bard ordered, his voice heavy with sorrow.
"Bahn! Take the women and children to the church!" Bard instructed his panicked son.
…
Under the city of Erebor, Ironfoot Dain led his dwindling forces in a desperate stand against the orcs.
"Duh duh!" The dwarven crossbows unleashed a rain of arrows, momentarily halting the orc advance.
"Roar!" Dwarf berserkers, lost in their battle frenzy, cut through orcs with brutal efficiency.
"Thorin! Where are you? We need you!" Dain called out, but his cousin was lost to the lure of the dragon's gold, laughing among the wealth while his kin died outside.
…
"Bang!" Thranduil, atop his moon deer, charged through the orcs, slashing them down. But the moon deer stumbled, throwing Thranduil off. He saw the iron swords embedded in its chest—this area was overrun by orcs.
"Heh," Thranduil sneered, drawing his double-edged blade. A dozen orcs surrounded him but fell swiftly to his deadly skill.
He moved through the city, anger boiling as he saw the fallen elves. Each orc he encountered met a swift, brutal end.
Finally, he found a group of elves making a last stand. Thranduil joined them, cutting down orcs with precise, merciless strikes.
"Gather our troops!" Thranduil commanded. "Let's get out of this hellish place!" He had hoped to retrieve the elves' treasured white gem but had been overwhelmed by the orcs. Nearly a thousand elves had died.
"You can't do this! You can't leave!" Gandalf appeared before Thranduil.
"My people have bled enough for this land!" Thranduil replied coldly, unwilling to sacrifice more elves for dwarves and humans.
"Dwarves and humans still need us!" Gandalf pleaded.
…
"Forget it, retreat," Roland sighed. The battlefield was too chaotic. Involving his men in such a mess would likely lead to their annihilation.
"Why? Aren't we staying to fight?" Reynold asked, surprised.
Roland explained, "We have no chance of winning. Even with dragon knights, it's not enough. Orc reinforcements from Gundabad are on their way. We can't turn the tide."
The group fell silent, understanding the truth but reluctant to abandon their allies.
"Sorry, my king. This may be the first and last time I disobey your orders," Reynold said, saluting. "Soldiers of Lagrand! The glory of our ancestors flows in our blood! Maybe today we will fail, but the will of the Empire will never perish! We will fight!"
"For the glory of the empire!"
"Long live Lagrand!"
"The Swift River shelters you and me!"
"Use my longbow to point the way forward!"
The men, inspired by Reynold's speech, readied themselves for battle.
"Maybe you're right," Roland said quietly. He watched his men, understanding their resolve.
"Then, let's go to war!" Roland drew his sword and mounted his horse, leading his men into the fray.
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