Blood Elf Monarch

Jarl Sigurd looked on as the three captains from the three different tribes all approached the central area while accompanied by their guards. At first, the discussion was civil, but then some shouting could be heard.

The jarl quirked his eyebrows in a silent question when Scrall the Tall came back to bring the news

"My lord, the elf came to insult us!" Scrall declared.

The jarl was surprised; he certainly did not expect that an elf was calling the shots in such a battle. With this new information, the jarl called for a few riders to do some scouting to the far west, to the direction of the Forbidden Forest, and to the north.

The elf and Arcadian did disrupt the war far too many times before, therefore he needed to be cautious with a probability of reinforcement from these two races.

"What of Astrid, Scrall? What happened to her?"

Scrall shook his head and sighed. "She has betrayed us, my Lord. This battle is nothing but utter madness! With all my respect, I beg upon you, My Lord, send me and I will make sure these abominations never even enter our sight again!"

The jarl was having a hard time accepting this fact. How could one of his best captains betray him for the sake of an orc camp?

"Yes, Scrall, you have my blessing. However! I want that elf and Astrid captured alive. Kill the rest."

"Yes, My Lord!"

"Soldiers! Sound the horn! Lay down your lives this day for our honor!"

Thhuuuuueeetttttttt

The echo of the horn was accompanied with screams and shouts throughout the hills and lands. Everyone had been waiting for this moment to raise their weapon and shout their battle cry high to the sky, a testament to their devotion.

The archers attacked first, each shooting two sets of arrow volleys towards the fort, while Scrall rallied all the warriors before charging to the fort with his massive sword drawn and ready to strike. Amongst the warriors he commanded, some carried tall ladders to scale the fortress walls.

The atmosphere was full of cheer and energy. Hundreds of warriors clad in yellow symbols all gathered around the fort.

Those charging from the eastern side had to swim and cross a shallow moat before they were able to raise the ladders they carried. Meanwhile, those from the west had no obstacles, thus they were able to raise half a dozen ladders within minutes.

Above the walls, the orcs were waiting, and when the barbarians started climbing, they started to throw down rocks.

Seeing the orcs throwing rocks from on top of the wall made the Earl chuckle.

"Hahahahaha, rocks?! I was worried for nothing! Send the soldiers of the two tribes, I want this whole area routed in one hour!"

Shouts and screams of affirmation could be heard from the other two tribes gathering on the left and right side. Eric the Red and Akon both raised their weapons and shouted their respective battle cry before ordering their warriors.

"Attack! Attack them all, don't leave even a single one alive!"

Jarl Sigurd glanced at the other two tribes and shook his head in disappointment. He did not expect the two tribes, easy as this battle may look, to take their sweet time to make a move.

But on the other hand, considering the yellow army's progress, the whole farce will result in their victory all the same. The yellow warriors had started climbing up the ladder without much resistance, and their victory was within their grasp.

Thhuuuuueeetttttttt

It was the sound of the Red Paws' horn, followed by the elated shouts of a hundred warriors. They all ran towards the battlefield without much structure nor tactics, each of them eager to spill the blood of their opponents.

The Jarl shook his head. The tribe should not sound their horn, as the war horn had already been blown by his army. In this battle, he was supposed to be the supreme commander, and he took a mental note to report this, Eric the Red, for his impudence later on to his Jarl.

But before he managed to finish his thoughts, another horn resounded from the other side. This time, it was from the blue tribe.

Akon of the Diving Crow tribe had also sounded their horn as the cue for their men to charge towards the fort.

"Why are they both doing this?!"

All of a sudden the Jarl's concern about the horn matter took a back seat to whatever was happening before his eyes. The two tribes 'red paw' and 'diving bird' did not charge towards the ruined orc fort in the distance, but instead towards the men clad in yellow. His men.

"!!! why are they attacking us?! "

The men from the three tribes started to kill each other and impede each other's progress at attacking the fort. Blood painted the ground, but it was not from the enemies, but those who were once allies turning their weapons toward each other.

Red, blue, and yellow garb, all are stained with fresh blood of former friends.

Those in the middle who were still safe ran back towards their captain, waiting for a new order. Scrall the Tall did nothing but watch the carnage. During this chaotic moment, they lay their hopes to their captain. But instead of receiving assurance, the tall captain draws his large sword and starts swinging it towards his own man.

Blood splattered towards the captain's uncaring expression, and heads started rolling around the fields, trampled and discarded by those reveling in the unexpected carnage and those trying to flee from the chaos.

All around the jarl, everything was chaotic. Former friends slaughtered each other with glassy eyes, and no one listened even as he barked out orders to stop.

"What the hell is going on!!" The jarl was enraged.

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