Small human force confronts Orcs on plain. Orcs throw themselves forward at humans, but the humans have a defensive position and hold back the Orcs. The line almost breaks but MC saves the day by fighting back a strong attack. The humans eventually charge forward, and the Orcs run away, unable to beat the humans.
Small human force with large contingent of archers entrenches in defensive position, awaiting the Orc attack. The Orcs are forced to slog across a muddy field, where their heavy infantry flounder in the ground. They are killed over and over by the lethal bows of the humans. Orcs decide to use Orcs mounted on wolves to attack the position. An all-out charge is made, which awes the humans. The archers still cause heavy casualties, but the Orcs make it toward the English line. However, they are forced to charge up a hill, slowing them down. The English, meanwhile, have put their spearmen at the front, which cut into the wolves and cause massive casualties in the Orc charge. The Orcs try again and again to break through, but between the volleys of arrows and the sharp spears, they can make no progress. The Orcs retreat, knowing they cannot win. The human force instantly attacks, charging down the hill and utilising their small force of cavalry to cut off the retreating Orcs. The humans encircle them and slaughter them to the last Orc.
Groznak grinned. His five-foot long double-headed axe, made from the tough oak of the trees from his homeland, that he had shaped with his own hands, which could smash through the toughest armour, even plate mail. Groznak knew that broad axes were the most destructive weapons in the world. However, they were also heavy and slow.
Groznak grinned. His hands gripped the oak handle of his long double-headed axe. Soon, he knew, human blood would be spilt over its sharp blades, despite their tough armour.
It was chaos. Sharpe cut across the fugitives, making for the edge of the hill where his Riflemen lay hidden. He found Knowles, with a group of the company, and pushed them ahead to join Harper but most of the Battalion was running back. The French fired their first volley, a massive rolling thunder of shots that cracked the night with smoke and flame, and cut a swathe in the troops ahead of them. The Battalion ran blindly back towards the safety of the next line of fires. Sharpe crashed into fugitives, shook them off, and struggled towards the comparative peace of the edge of the hill. A voice shouted, “What’s happening?” Sharpe turned. Berry was there, his jacket undone, his sword drawn, his black hair falling over his fleshy face. Sharpe stopped, crouched, and growled. He remembered the girl, her terror, her pain, and he rose to his feet, walked the few paces and grabbed Berry’s collar. Frightened eyes turned on him.“What’s happening?”He pulled the Lieutenant with him, over the crest, down into the darkness of the slope. He could hear Berry babbling, asking what was happening, but he pulled him down until they were both well below the crest and hidden from the fires. Sharpe heard the last fugitives pound past on the summit, the crackle of musketry, the shouts diminishing as the men ran back. He let go of Berry’s collar. He saw the white face turn to him in the darkness, then gasp.“My God. Captain Sharpe. Is that you?”“Weren’t you expecting me?” Sharpe’s voice was as cold as blade in winter. “I was looking for you.”
Savage didn’t even have to order them. Campbell led the retreat, the Riflemen gladly jogging back across the bridge toward the waiting lines of British troops and the artillery. Other Rifles from other companies joined them; some, Savage realised, hadn’t crossed yet, and others were the ones who were helping protect the Hussars. They fired a volley towards the Chasseurs, but it was at extreme range and few men fell. Now they had retreated back toward the bridge, and Savage breathed relief as his own boots clattered against the stone structure and he made it back to the safer side. It was just in time. The fleeing Hussars rushed past, most not bothering to use the bridge and simply traversing the water, the smashing legs and hooves throwing water here and there. They interspersed with the retreating Riflemen, some who waded the cold stream and others who had made it across but were hit by the speed of the horses and knocked over. It was chaos. Savage was pulled to one side by the strong arm of Sergeant Campbell as one Hussar bolted past. Some shots were fired loosely.
Nate wrote:And if YWS ever does become a company, Jack will be the President of European Operations. In fact, I'm just going to call him that anyways.
4. Consider your mood, whether it is gritty or dreamy. Stick to your style or your novel’s style. Think of pace, mix fast and slow together for the best effect. Use dramatic effect to introduce tension and suspense – swop swap between scenes for cliffhangers. Use short sentences between long sentences. Make it realistic. Don’t hold back. Let people die.
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