Throwing back his head, Eric let out a primal roar.

"Grimarok is dead!" he shouted, his voice piercing the din of battle and bringing the combatants to a halt.

With disbelieving expressions, the goblins looked at the body of their terrifying leader, the hobgoblin who had led them to so many victories. Lying there with his head missing, a shiver seemed to go through the goblin ranks, as they stared at the motionless corpse of their commander, as if hoping he would jump to his feet and continue the fight.

Not missing the opportunity, Eric pointed towards the goblins, "Kill them all!" he roared, feinting a dash towards the goblins.

That was all it took, seeing the one who had killed their commander rushing forward, the goblins broke ranks, screaming and pushing as they scrabbled to be the first to escape.

Seeing this, Eric charged for real. His falchion had broken when he'd buried it in the hobgoblin's shoulder, forcing him to grab Grimarok's sabre from his corpse as he pa.s.sed. he began to cut down as many of the fleeing goblins as possible. Seeing this, the rest of the militia followed suit, dyeing their weapons in goblin blood as the goblins retreated in a panic. As the goblin retreat turned into a fullblown rout, Eric turned, Grimarok's sabre held aloft as he captured the attention of the remaining militia.

"To me, militia! We must save Captain Alistair!"

At this, the remaining militia roared their support, following Eric as he led them towards the opposite end of the encampment where the sounds of battle still continued.

Alistair and the scouts had managed to hold on well. Despite the ambush and loss of a significant portion of their troops, the scouts training along with Alistair's commands and strength at arms had allowed them to survive the brutal fighting.

As Eric and the others arrived, they dove into the frey, cutting into the goblins' rear as the goblins attempted to break the shield wall. Panicking, the goblins were treated as the nail, while Eric and the militia acted as the hammer, slamming the goblins into the anvil that was Alistair's unit.

Fighting their way through, the militia cut through dozens of goblins before the goblins could reorganize themselves and turn to deal with the new attackers. By this time, Alistair had already recognized the chance that the militia had given him. Instructing his men to fight their way through to Eric's group, the platoon joined together as a whole once more for the first time since this nightmare had began, driving the goblins before them as they got into formation.

After ten minutes of brutal fighting, the battle was done. The goblins had been routed and the Crowsea Platoon was victorious. But at what cost? Eric wondered sadly to himself as he gazed upon the bodies of the fallen. Nearly two thirds of the platoon had fallen in the battle. While many of the militia were otherworlders and would resp.a.w.n after their time in Elysium, the scout unit and several of the adventurers were not so lucky.

As the thrill of victory wore off, the platoon got to work, cleaning up the bodies of the dead, searching the remaining tents and buildings, and taking care of the wounded. As Eric moved around the battlefield, he wrinkled his nose. Something that he thankfully hadn't noticed during the battle was the smell. The stench of burning flesh filled the air, as the corpses of goblin, human, elf, and dwarf alike smoldered in the remnants of the goblin base.

Closing the eyes of Gorin Greatarm, Eric hung his head sadly. They had truly messed up today. While the battle had been a success, if they hadn't been caught off guard by the goblins ambush, would their losses have been anywhere near this bad?

"You did all you could. This is just what war is," said a voice from behind him as a hand came to rest on his shoulder.

"I'm surprised you're alive," Eric said bluntly.

"I don't feel like I'm alive, if that's any consolation," Owin smiled weakly. An enormous bandage ran the length of his torso, covering the horrendous wound he'd received from Grimarok's sabre.

"This battle shouldn't have been so hard. We got caught off guard too easily," Eric said, swearing as he rose painfully to his feet.

"Alistair was afraid of this. That's why he wanted to attack earlier. And it's also why he took as many precautions as he did."

"Precautions? Like what, charging blindly into a goblin base?" Eric spat caustically.

"Like using scouts to ensure there were no goblin armies lying in wait. Or distributing the Witches Brew he obtained from the Mage Morningstar to his officers. Or fighting two hobgoblins at once despite being retired for almost a decade now," Owin said lightly, raising his brow at Eric.

"Witches Brew?"

"That explosive I used. We had three flasks of that, and another three of Wizards Fire. Without those, there's no way we would have won the battle today," Owin explained.

Eric sighed, "I just wish I could have done more. That we could have done more."

"You took on a hobgoblin lord in single combat and you want to do more? G.o.ds above, I'd hate to know what your idea of taking things in moderation is," Owin joked.

"You know what I mean. If I was stronger I could have done more, I could have saved more of them."

"You can't save everyone. Wylls' death was proof of that. But you can be thankful for those you could save. As for me? I'm fairly sure I owe you a second drink," Owin said with a smile.

Eric smiled back, "Just a second? I'm fairly sure you owe me like, five."

"Deal," Owin said with a laugh. "I think that's the Captain calling me though. We can talk again later."

With that, Owin turned, heading over to where Alistair stood along with his surviving lieutenant.