Deus Necros

They Lizardmen crowded the space like ants around sugar, bodies everywhere, some small and quick, some large and thick with muscle. A couple of hundred at least, maybe more, and that count was only what he could see from this angle.

There could be more under huts, deeper in the trees, more hidden in the river itself, where their eyes and nostrils still watched. Ludwig’s fingers tightened on Durandal’s grip. Twenty orcs could win fights. Twenty orcs could not win wars without losing too much of themselves.

Turning back, Grath, no Ludwig’s small army was reeling for a fight. Most of them will die.

Heavy casualties meant no kingdom. It meant no momentum. It meant he would “become king” by standing over a pile of corpses with no one left to rule. The Tower would love that irony. Ludwig refused to give it the satisfaction.

“You said lizardmen had no king, right?”

“Not that Grath knows of…”

Ludwig thought a bit, without a king or ruler, and they had this many members. If this were just one tribe of Lizardmen, then that means there must be more.

Other tribes, that were not unified yet…

He sighed for a bit.

The implication was worse than the numbers in front of him. If these lizardmen were thriving without a central ruler, it meant the environment favored them. Water, terrain, and numbers. If there were multiple tribes, any open war here would make noise that drew others like carrion birds. Even if he won, he would win exhausted, and exhausted winners got eaten.

“You seem a bit perplexed,” Kaiser said.

“Yeah, I’m thinking of how to handle this… fighting head-on is out of the question is what I’m thinking.”

Ludwig didn’t bother pretending otherwise. Kaiser wasn’t the kind of ally you placated with false confidence. He was useful because he saw problems the same way Ludwig did, as systems to be exploited rather than walls to be punched.

“Why?” Grath said, his voice a bit louder than it should.

Ludwig’s eyes snapped to Grath immediately, not angry yet, but sharp. Sound carried down. The hill crest didn’t hide voices; it only hid bodies.

“Quiet down, Grath, we’re doing recon. We need to understand and know how many we’re facing.”

“All I see is lizardmen and Orcs. We fight, and Orc win, we win.”

Grath’s certainty was absolute, and that was the danger. Absolute certainty got people killed. Ludwig could already imagine the scene Grath wanted: a charge down the hill, axes swinging, bodies falling, a glorious mess.

“Yeah, and how many would survive?” Ludwig asked.

Grath thought for a second. It didn’t help. He looked even more confused.

“Thought as much, think about it, Grath, if we battle, we’ll lose more troops, who will be left to fight the Red Tusk tribe?”

The logic finally had a shape Grath could hold.

Fight now, lose many, then no fight later.

Orcs thinking with a longer horizon than the next battle was rare, but not impossible if you framed it in terms of future blood.

Grath staggered from the ’realization’ that he was hit with a rock instead of a lightbulb flashing on top of his head.

“The water,” Kaiser said.

“Hmm? What about it?” Ludwig asked.

Kaiser’s eyes were locked on the river now, not on the huts. Ludwig followed that gaze and saw what Kaiser meant immediately. The settlement’s entire rhythm depended on that current.

“Lizardmen need water to survive. How about we deprive them of it?”

“Build a dam?” Gale asked.

The question was practical, and Ludwig could tell Gale was already imagining it as a tactical project, something that could be done with labor and force. But labor and force cost time.

“No, that’ll take too much time, and it would waste effort,” Kaiser said.

He thought for a second after he looked at the length of the river, “We poison it.”

“That is not how orcs fight!” Grath said. Louder this time, a few lizardmen turned their heads toward the cliff, but they didn’t see anyone as Ludwig had ducked down.

The sudden movement below proved Ludwig’s point about sound. A couple of lizardmen paused, heads tilted, eyes scanning the hill line.

Ludwig dropped lower, pressing himself against grass and dirt, letting the crest hide him. His heart didn’t race, but his mind did, calculating how quickly a scouting party could be sent up if the lizardmen decided the sound was worth investigating.

“Grath, if you yell one more time, I’ll tie you up and throw you to the lizardmen.”

The threat was delivered calmly, which made it more believable. Ludwig didn’t need to shout to be heard. The orcs around Grath stiffened, not because they feared Ludwig physically, but because they recognized the tone of a leader who was done tolerating stupidity.

Grath placed both hands on his face, “I sorry…”

“Tell me, Kaiser, how do you plan on poisoning a flowing river?”

Ludwig didn’t dismiss the idea. He needed details. Poisoning a river could be pointless if diluted too fast, or catastrophic if done correctly.

“A stationary poison. All I need is a corpse. I can make it bleed corpse poison; it’ll make anyone who dives into the river weaker. Or outright unconscious if not dead.”

The plan was ugly and efficient, which meant it was Kaiser’s. Ludwig imagined a body anchored upstream, bleeding enchantment into the current like a slow curse. Lizardmen who relied on the river would be forced to drink it, bathe in it, breathe it. Even a small weakening could turn champions into normal soldiers. Normal soldiers into prey.

“And you can do that with a fourth-circle magic restriction?”

“Fun thing about rituals, all you need is the knowledge of them, you don’t care about the rank of magic. And I know a lot. But we need to go upstream first, we can’t do it where they can see…”

Ludwig considered it quickly. Rituals were always loopholes in systems that tried to restrict direct casting. If the Tower wanted them limited, rituals were the kind of sideways method that could still hurt.

“Sure thing then, take a few orcs with you, we’ll keep watch.”

“I still have the communication crystal on me. I’ll inform you once it’s set up.” Kaiser said as he took a group of Orcs with him.

Kaiser moved immediately, choosing orcs that looked less likely to shout and give away positions.

They followed him with a mix of confusion and pride, because being chosen by the shaman meant being part of something clever, even if they didn’t understand clever.

Ludwig stayed at the hill, eyes on the settlement, counting movement patterns, noting where champions patrolled, where groups clustered, where the river could be accessed without being seen.

“Shaman sir, is it wise?” one of the random orcs asked.

“Why wouldn’t it be wise? To kill without moving a dagger is the wisest thing one could do. Follow me for now…”

The group headed out, leaving Ludwig with the rest.

Grath seemed too anxious about the fact that they had the opportunity to fight but couldn’t. And could only slope down, like a sad puppy being denied an outing. Littel that he would know, how imperative Ludwig’s plan would be in securing his and his allies’ survival for the upcoming wars.