12: Ofren’s Demise
Ofren the Bold fell first. Since he had struck the head from Gregor’s body, he had declared himself the sole and unequaled tyrant of the realm.
He was carousing in his Hall when the Earth began to quake.
As I have said before, Ofren had long ago lost hold of his senses.
Drunk on mead, victory, and an all-consuming bloodlust, he was certain that no man, beast, or force of nature could shake him from his golden throne.
As his generals and partisans huddled beneath the banquet table, understanding then what the dying Astrell had meant in his final words, Ofren removed his great sword from the wall and stormed out to face the Swarm.
Standing at the foot of Mount Cormast, looking up at the approaching hordes, Ofren let loose a battle cry that shook the columns of the Hall and seemed set to rally his troops behind him.
So it might have, had the Ice Dragon not swept down upon him and snatched his head and torso in its teeth, leaving two bloody legs behind.
Word of Ofren’s death had barely spread the through even the mead hall, but the Fury began to flee the land surrounding the smoking mountain range.
Some few made it to the encampment of the Dark Elves, where they were relieved to find the able Necatus in conference with Helston the Younger.
The two were in talks planning the overthrow of the mad Ofren and a subsequent sharing of power.
This would prove unnecessary, as the remaining Orcs, led by Ofren’s first general Marxen, took a cue from Necatus after his borther Craxis’s death.
Marxen took the hands of both Helston and Necatus and expressed the commitment of the Orc troops to stand by Dark Elves and BloodDrakes in protecting the Fury.
Most of the Fury, sadly, had already been slaughtered in the space of an hour and lay at the foot of the mountain range.
Necatus, Marxen and Helston immediately set to preparing a desperate defense of the battlements.