11 CHAPTER 10 - TRIBULATION FOREST

It's a long haul through the mass of the empire, our reach expanding for micro-sectors, covering more land than any other known realm.

Safe travels as auxiliary units spread far and wide, covering all access roads, towns and skirmishers wander throughout the forests and mountains.

We reach Tribulation forest as we pass the safety of our lands, a place roaming is wild beasts and supernatural going-on.

Our caravan is heavy but it's fast, each carriage pulled by eight Valerian warhorses and each a small fortress of its own.

Tribulation forest is mass, expanding sectors, but the fastest way to the RV. The Empire tried burning the forest down, but something in the soil or air regrows this shadowy, magical place.

A place easy to lose yourself, a place were legions have disappeared and voices whispers.

Fast, precise, we don't want to camp here but it's a few days at most, vigilance and a sharp mind are a must if we are going to survive.

We can't tell if it's day or night, the trees are 100 meters tall, cutting out almost all daylight. Our light-boxes and glow torches keep us from crashing but shadows move all around. We can feel the eyes, intense, piercing eyes from the umbra.

Twenty-eight hours straight we've driven, the horses and my men need to rest, at least for a few hours. We set up fast deployment shields (a wall that encircles our caravan). Inside the small emplacement makes sleep in this unnatural place feel ever so slightly safer.

Two hours go past and rustling and groans are heard from our surroundings.

My NCOs and sentries quickly wake the men and ready themselves for whatever stalks us. We remain quiet not alert the possible threat that lurks.

My legionaries form shield wall around the caravan, and remain inside the outer defence.

From two sides of the path they come, massive flaming boulders rolling towards us.

"Legion, prepare for battle," I shout, "for the Empire!"

"Wwwoooo aaaahhh," shout my men as they brace themselves.

The boulders smash hard upon the outer walls cracking them with ease under sheer weight. My men quickly reposition to close the open caps, securing the outer wall.

I gesture to my seige grew, then they press levers on the caravans. Shutters swing down from the carriages revealing heavy ballistas (five-foot bolt) mid-range machine bolt Polybolos (self-loading rapid-firing bolt thrower) and the short-ranged Legion dart (100 mini darts fired together).

At four corners of the camp, onager spinners are placed, rotating weapons used as weapons to guard entrances. Each fitted with a heavy rock or metal ball, they spin in circles, smacking incoming threats.

BBBaaabbboooo, a horn is blown from the darkness. The trees start to shake. "Whatever comes out of there, remember who and what you are. You are the chosen legion, the best Rome has to offer. Stick together and make them bleed for their audacity to even think of attacking men of the empire."

The trees shake more and more violently, then nothing, it stops. Moments later thick hot breath is seen from the tree-line, covering both flanks. Large green demonic eyes stare from just beyond the light of the camp.

Torchbearers shine their light upon the tree-line, revealing massive monstrous creatures. Dozens of them stand, at least fifteen foot tall and made of pure solid orange-skinned muscle.

The monstrous men wield gigantic bone-crushing and limb chopping melee weaponry. Some hold barbaric looks bows, with arrows longer than a man.

One steps out, at the front of the road, alone, he is taller and bigger than the rest. His teeth are hug and razor-sharp. Human skills dangle from his belt and he carries are ten-foot meat cleaver. He must be the chieftain.

Growgan, (a race of orc) barbaric flesh-eating monsters, even more terrifying and violent than the green-skins, a race of orc that's wiped out many orc clans. These savages are at the top of the orc food chain and a major problem for the human race.

Their skin is armour think, their strength five-times a man and strategically more adept than the majority of races on Theia.

At least thirty Growgan stand waiting, ready to strike, cunning and robust their forte.

I have a centuria of legionaries and two contubernium of gladiators plus seige crews. My eighty legionaries are split in to four sections and the gladiators form fire teams. Each legion section forms three lines with shields front and above and javelins at the ready. The gladiators consist of different styles to best suit each fire team.

The chieftain raises his massive arm, then drops it. Both flanks storm out from the tree-line, fifty meters away per side. The charge roaring, melee weapons raised and ready to smash. Enemy arrows launch, speeding towards us.