Debauchery Worlds 72 (Patreon)

commissioned by michael stitcher

Debauchery Worlds

Chapter 72

-VB-

Alan Marris

Lamb Hills, Halann

2984.06.07

The “Eastern Entrance” according to the records found in Orlazam az Dihr was …

Big. 

How else was I supposed to describe an entrance some one hundred meters high and more than eighty meters across? The indents and scriptures that once decorated the archway looked defaced and almost unrecognizable, but I’ve been around my dwarves long enough while they were translating to recognize some of the scripts. This place was definitely of local dwarven make.

A dozen medium mechs could line up shoulder to shoulder and march right on through this place. 

It was a far more impressive place by the entrance alone than Orlazam az Dihr.

At the same time, we also saw who came out to meet us. 

Orcs. Dark grey skinned orcs in rough armors, hide pelts, and even some robes. They held their ground just a bit inside the grand entrance, and roared at us. 

I recognized what they were doing. They were goading us to come charge into the entrance. Against dwarves, this would have worked. Even at a simple glance, orcs were taller, stronger, and tougher than dwarves. At least these orcs were. 

But my dwarves didn’t wear armor and wield swords and axes. 

… Some of them did, but the majority of the dwarves that were part of expedition companies wielded something else. 

Guns.

Laser guns.

But what worried me were the ones that I couldn’t see. 

Where were the orc’s magicians? The records spoke of orcs having magicians among their numbers, and some orcs even being capable of changing their skin color like what sounded like camouflage. Was this a trap? 

My clones and I pinged our mechs’ sensors. 

… Nothing. We saw no unexpected readings from our flanks. 

Just a shit ton of orcs in front of us. 

Well then.

“Do we see anyone looking to parley?” I asked on speaker to my dwarves. 

“No.”

Good enough for me. 

“Open fire.”

The four dozen Firestarters my clones and I brought opened fire. Ninety-six Medium Lasers streaked across the air, lighting it up in green hue, and smashed into the orcish horde’s frontline. 

Bodies burned into ash on the spot if they didn’t outright evaporate. Then my dwarves opened fire with their own laser rifles. 

Hundreds died instantly. 

The orcs faltered, and that gave us time to fire another salvo.

Hundreds burned. 

The orcs realized that allowing us to continue to attack could not be allowed. They either had to retreat or charge ahead. 

And the fools decided to charge forward. 

They swarmed out in thousands. 

In tens of thousands. 

Our Firestarters fanned out to cover the opening in a semicircle. The dwarves moved in to fill the gaps in the encirclement. 

The orcs burned as they tried to reach us.

And that’s when we opened up with our Flamers. 

It’s one thing to die instantly.

It’s another to watch fire spewing toward you and burn your comrades alive in a slow, agonizing fashion. 

Then we advanced. 

We alternated in groups of threes. In each group of three Firestarters, one cooled their heat sink, another fired off machine guns, and the last fired all of their flamers and medium lasers. We rotated in and out of that formation, constantly applying a deadly hot pressure on the orcs. 

Then one of the Firestarters stumbled, the clone fumbling, as something smashed into it. Then the impact sight detonated. 

We quickly triangulated the origin based on the trajectory path of the attack.

That’s when we saw it. 

The first magician of this world. 

An orcish wizard.

Dressed in a heavily ornamental robes and wielding a staff, it leaked a blackish aura.

It roared as it raised its staff up and a fireball roared to life above it. 

Then it flew. 

This time, we were prepared. 

Another Firestarter stepped up and activated the shields. 

The fireball crashed against the shield and blew up… but the mech was undamaged. 

Whatever temporary victory they felt was squashed. But then there was a dozen more of them and they gathered their power together -.

We shot them with our guns and lasers before they could finish. Why the hell would we let them finish? Just one fireball was enough to max out three of the ten heat sinks in the Firestarter who tanked it with its shield. 

The orcs began to retreat. No, they ran. 

We didn’t let up on the pressure. We continued to march forward and laid down fire with bullets, lasers, and fire. 

By the time the half-hour long battle came to an end, thousands of orcs laid dead within and at the gate of the Eastern Entrance. 

Without slowing down, we moved into the giant tunnel.

The Eastern Entrance was said to be a “Dwarven Road,” a giant tunnel where people lived along the edges. That meant that orcs were living in the Eastern Entrance.

We decided right there and then that a people who didn’t even bother to attempt parley didn’t deserve mercy until they surrendered and begged for it. This was the second time they did this, after all. 

No.

The Eastern Entrance will be cleansed for all orcs, and it’ll become the forward operating base for the Liberation of Amldihr. 

One of us watched an orc stumble and fall. It tried to get up but it couldn’t. It turned around, looking at the dwarves and our mechs with wild eyes. It tried to scurry back but even that was hampered by the hot ashen remains of its comrades. 

Trembling… it raised its arms up.

“So the bastards do know how to surrender,” one of the dwarves laughed into the command channel. “What’s it gonna be, boss?”

“... I see someone who can provide decent intel for its life,” I hummed. “That’s our first prisoner, boys.”

Some of the dwarves grumbled but moved to secure the orc. 

---

The futuristic 80’s that was the Inner Sphere had nothing on the dwarves. 

My clones and I all gawked at the ridiculous architecture all around us on par with the fantastical images of Khazad-Dum from the Lord of the Rings. 

Because the Eastern Entrance, not the grand halls of Aul-Dwarov or any of the major keeps, looked like fantasy. This “dwarven road” was exactly that: a road. There were ruined rails and roads but also tall arches along the sides that went deep enough for people to set up houses underneath them with each pillar of the arch serving as a corner of a block, if you will. 

Which was exactly what the orcs had done. 

They had been camping by almost a hundred thousand, and fled deeper into the tunnels as soon as they heard us approach.

“Are we gonna keep chasing, boss?” one of the dwarves asked. I looked down from my mech, relying on its external cameras for a closer look, and noticed him frowning. Noticed a lot of the dwarves frowning, actually. 

“... No, we can secure the area first,” I said. “What’s up, Rockhaven?” I asked as I lowered the power on the Firestarter and popped the hatch open. Thanks to a mix of enchantments, tinkertech, and advanced cooling systems from other universes, even after running hot all through the fight, the cockpit remained cool and thus I wasn’t sweating at all. 

Rockhaven was one of the more able dwarven soldiers among the Lamb Hill Outpost. I remembered him in specific more than others because he was a … rather enthusiastic gunsmith.

“Doesn’t feel right, boss,” he grumbled as he leaned against his comically large rifle. It was a hefty thing that can chunk Inner Sphere mech armor. “This is shooting fish in a barrel. I mean, I’m happy it’s easy, but I don’t feel good about kicking them out of their homes.”

Did I mention that Rockhaven was also a more sensitive dwarf with strong morals and ethics? 

“Your comrades don’t think so,” I said as we looked at some of the dwarves rummaging through the stuff the orc tribe left behind as they fled, and they gleefully showed off jewelry.

“Yeah, well, most of them are swept up in this ‘lost cousin-ancestor tribe restoration’ thing. I’m more interested in spaceships, laser guns, and bombs.”

I nodded. “You good to continue or what? If you want, then I can keep you in the battlefield but away during … looting.”

“Aye. For the best. I’d probably shoot a cunt or two if I saw them doing something unfortunate.”

“Got it. If there’s anyone else that wants a position change, let me or my clones know, yeah?”

“Aye. And thanks.”

-VB-

Kadir Greenaxe

Eastern Entrance, Halann

2984.06.15

It took over a week for the crew and expedition to secure the Eastern Entrance, mostly because the dwarven road was, in and of itself, massive beyond expectation. They were also lacking a lot of manpower, so his boss was bringing more people over from all over his territory.

It was weird to think about that. His boss didn’t act like a king but he definitely was. 

Anyways, a lot of those people were unfortunate people, either the poor or those in need of some time shaved off their sentences, and they got some training from his people or the boss himself before joining the garrison for the Eastern Entrance and Lamb Hill Outpost. 

While everyone was busy with that, he went on his usual scavenging run not for metals and jewelry but artifacts and archeology. 

And what he found was … devastating. 

The orcs had been thorough in their extermination of many things dwarven. Maybe it was because they melted down metals for their weapons or tore down some of the buildings because they were too small. Whatever the case, there weren’t a lot of artifacts for Kadir to find. 

Or so he thought. 

He tapped the wall with the tip of his pickaxe and the sound rang hollow. 

“There’s definitely a room behind this wall,” he hummed. 

The few dwarves more interest in this line of work than loot gathered around him as they too tested the hollowness. “What d’ya think’s behind the wall?” one asked. 

Another stroked his long beard. “Could be a maintenance shaft for all I know. They have to get fresh air in here somehow.”

“Who would make a maintenance shaft big enough to fit a light mech?” Kadir asked incredulously. “For all we know, the place was sealed up by the dwarves to keep the orcs out.”

There was a grumbling assent from the rest. 

“Aight, then let’s tear down this wall!” 

Their pickaxes and hammers swung.

When the wall came down…

They found a library on the other side with many dwarven mummies. Sufficed to say, Kadir had been right but he hadn’t wanted to be right like this, but he paid his respects to the dwarves who gave their lives to a slow death to keep the books safe.