Lord of the Rings: Warriors

"Seriously, Sir Lance? Are we really camping in a place like this?" Jessiava nervously tightened the woolen blanket around his small frame. 

For a goblin, the early spring chill was still too much to bear. Watching the soldiers methodically setting up camp, he couldn't help but voice his concern.

Goblins, being short and physically frail, had significantly lower resistance to nature's elements. They typically lived in underground dungeons, rarely venturing onto the open surface. 

After all, even wild beasts were enough to give them a hard time.

"Of course, unless you've spotted a cave nearby big enough to fit over a hundred people," Lance shrugged helplessly. 

"This place is at least dry. We clear it out, and it'll serve as a campsite just fine."

"Yeah, the conditions aren't great, and it's nowhere near as comfortable as the city. But with rangers on watch, we should be able to get through the night safely."

Lance noticed Jessiava's unease and added some reassurance. 

As for why the heavy cavalry wasn't put on watch duty... Well, with their eyesight, they probably wouldn't notice danger until it was right in front of them.

"Alright, boys! Pick up the pace! Get those barricades up first, then pitch the tents! It's getting late, and I don't want to see anyone shivering in the night wind!" 

Lance clapped his hands, his voice sharp with authority.

"Yes, sir!" The soldiers replied in unison, their movements quickening.

The crackling of flames echoed throughout the camp as dozens of roaring bonfires lit up. The warmth immediately seeped into the soldiers' bodies, driving away the evening chill.

"Thump-thump-thump!" 

More than a dozen rangers from Lordaeron leapt lightly onto the treetops, their agile forms blending into the shadows of the branches. From below, they were practically invisible.

"Alright, Lord Jessiava, you can rest easy now. Your tent is over there." Lance pointed toward a small, solitary tent set aside for the goblin monarch. His tone was friendly but firm.

"Uh… fine." Jessiava shot Lance a wary look before shuffling off, casting nervous glances over his shoulder as he walked.

"Phew!" Lance exhaled deeply, watching her leave. "This goblin king is more of a handful than a spoiled child."

"Stay on high alert. Protect our supplies — if we lose our provisions, we won't make it far! And don't let anything sneak in. 

Stay in contact with the rangers on watch," Lance ordered, his eyes fixed on the dozen large supply wagons in the middle of camp.

"Understood, sir!" a ranger acknowledged firmly.

"Awoooo~"

A spine-chilling howl echoed through the dark forest, its eerie tone sending shivers down the soldiers' spines.

"Ugh… What is that sound…?" 

Jessiava whimpered, curling himself into a ball inside his tent. 

He burrowed deep into his bedding, his whole body trembling as he tried in vain to block out the otherworldly howls. But no blanket or tent wall could shut out that ghostly wail.

"What the hell is making that noise?!" Lance jolted awake, instantly alert. He leapt out of bed, snatched up his longsword, and charged out of his tent.

"Sir! It looks like a pack of Ghost Wolves..." A ranger from Lordaeron dropped from a tree branch, landing lightly beside him.

"Ghost Wolves?!" Lance cursed under his breath. "Of all things… Low-level magical beasts, sure, but they always come in large packs. 

Everyone, prepare for defense! Rangers, get to the trees and establish a perimeter. Protect the horses! All cavalry, armor up and form a defensive line inside the bonfire perimeter!"

The soldiers hesitated only for a moment before rushing to obey.

"Curse it all! Can't a man get a decent night's sleep around here?" Lance growled through gritted teeth, his face twisted in irritation.

If a Ghost Wolf happened to show up in front of him right now, he'd probably cut it in half just to vent his frustration.

"Hold your spears steady! Brace your shields! Don't panic!" Lance barked as the clanging of armored cavalry echoed around him. "They're just a pack of animals — don't show them fear!"

It was important to remember that the Zaltarion heavy cavalry were still ordinary humans. 

They hadn't awakened any kind of supernatural power. Their thick plate and chain mail could withstand most attacks, but they weren't invincible. 

If they panicked, the formation would collapse, and the wolves would seize the moment to attack.

"500 meters east! They're coming!" A Lordaeron ranger's voice rang out from above.

At that moment, the first wolves came into view — massive creatures nearly three meters long. 

Their fur was a sickly green, and a dark stripe ran from the tops of their heads down their spines. They weaved swiftly through the forest, closing the distance with terrifying speed.

"Multi-Shot!" shouted the rangers.

They raised their longbows, and streaks of battle energy flowed along their fingertips, imbuing the bowstrings. With a sharp twang, the arrows flew.

Snap! Snap!

The arrows split mid-air, turning into three arrows each. Over 150 crystalline, energy-infused projectiles shot towards the oncoming wolves.

"Arrrooo!"

"Yelp! Yelp!"

"Yip Yip Yip!"

Some wolves were struck and fell to the ground, thrashing wildly. Others took non-lethal hits and writhed in pain, their howls echoing in the night.

"Dammit! They've activated their racial ability — Phantom Form!" shouted one of the rangers perched on the treetops, his sharp eyes catching the shift.

Phantom Form: Immunity to Physical Damage.

"Damn it all!" Lance cursed again, his heart sinking. The Zaltarion heavy cavalry didn't have the luxury of battle energy to bypass this kind of defense.

"All cavalry, listen up! Drop your spears and light your torches!" Lance's eyes lit up with an idea. 

"Fire isn't physical damage!"

Fwoosh!

One by one, the soldiers lit the torches they'd carried with them.

"Prepare for impact!" Lance raised his shield and gripped his sword tightly. 

Flames danced along its blade as his battle energy flared.

"Charge!"

The moment a Ghost Wolf lunged toward him, Lance surged forward like a thunderclap. 

His sword swung out in a smooth, deadly arc, decapitating two Ghost Wolves in one stroke.

The flames from the soldiers' torches struck the semi-transparent wolves. The moment the fire touched them, they yelped and howled in agony. 

Their ghostly bodies flickered before becoming solid again. Their bloodthirsty eyes locked on the human defenders.

"Spears up! Take them down!" Lance roared, his fury finally boiling over. You dare interrupt my sleep? No one messes with a man's rest!

"Hooah!"

Some of the more cunning wolves tried to flank the defenders from behind.

Fwoosh!

Arrows zipped through the air, piercing the wolves' skulls cleanly and pinning them to the ground. The precision of the Lordaeron rangers was as terrifying as ever.

Lance glanced toward the treetops and gave a big thumbs up. He knew they'd see it.

"Advance in a spear formation! Push forward!" Lance ordered after quickly assessing the number of remaining wolves — about thirty or so.

With coordinated, thunderous chants, the Zaltarion heavy infantry pushed forward in formation. Every few paces, another wolf was picked off by a ranger's arrow.

"It's done, sir! 67 Ghost Wolves slain in total. Their magic cores are all in here," a blood-splattered ranger reported respectfully, handing Lance a small bag. 

Ghost Wolves might have large bodies, but their magic cores were no bigger than a dragon's eye.

"Good work." Lance grinned as he weighed the bag in his hand.

With the eerie howls finally silenced, the soldiers returned to their tents, their bodies exhausted but their spirits high.

Lance glanced at the fading flames of the bonfires. If you want to interrupt my sleep again, be my guest. Just don't expect to live long enough to regret it.

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