Laura leaves two long patches of ice fog as she flies towards the plateau. Hopefully they get the idea and don't attack her, that would just be a mess in every sense of the word.
The injured Ogres have begun joining the defense effort, seeing that the main force isn't going to have an easy time of it, and that there are Trolls present in the attacking force. In fact, they don't seem too enthusiastic about the Snapping Turtles either, roaring and throwing boulders at them as they advance.
The fog is the perfect setup for the battle. Either the Ogres can stay in the area that the Summons can effectively control, or they can spread out and take the damage from lingering Dragon Breath. For most it's not really an option, the Dragon Breath would kill them. Fortunately for them, everything they really want to fight is right up front already. In their minds, they will crush the little beings once they finish with the Trolls and their allied turtles.
Numbers are in their advantage, but power is not, the gigantic clubs of the Trolls are enough to cripple the weaker among the Ogres with a single strike. Plus, there are those hateful little snake women, the Lamia Scourge Casters Slashing into them over and over with incredibly sharp energy blades.
Seeing the front ranks fall the moment they meet up with the enemy serves to further enrage the Ogres. They've won this war, taken the entire Troll nation for their own. How dare these upstart fighters dare to ambush their siege?
A few kilometers away, up on the plateau, things have taken a sudden turn in favor of the defenders. Two incredibly strong, though small, Dragons have joined the battle from the direction of the attacking mixed Fae force.
"Cover the Dragons. Don't let the Ogres take them down with boulders." The Elven general shouts, signaling a wave of Arrows towards the Ogres siege weapons and Ranged fighters. It's enough to keep their heads down as the Dragons make a second pass, laying down even more fog covering the battle front before diving to the ground and joining the melee fight. Their claws tear through Ogre armor like butter and smacks from their tails drop the huge monsters to the ground where they're easily overpowered and killed by the Elven front line.
Strangely, they don't seem to be using their fearsome teeth much in combat, opting instead to focus on their claws, even jumping on targets to Rend them apart with all four limbs at once.
As the fog starts to lift, they take to the air again, clearly intending to refresh it.
"Mighty Dragons, please focus the fog on the healers. The sooner the Ogre Shamans stop healing their army the easier we can destroy them." The Elven General begs, while the Troll King throws a gigantic spear in the desired direction.
"That is where the cowards hide." He shouts. The Trolls don't believe in healers, viewing them as an act of cowardice, relying instead on their rapid regeneration. That is a sentiment Laura understands, she too heals very fast, even without the healing provided by Vala and the Clerics.
Vala's healing ability is an odd one in that it affects all party members, without a stated range. Laura isn't sure, but she suspects that much of her current regeneration is actually due to the Demon, but she has no way of telling how much. The rate of healing has thoroughly impressed the Troll King though, giving him an even better impression of the mighty flying creatures.
"Incoming Pixie." Elmira shouts, landing on Laura's head.
"Cain said you might need an Assassin, and if you're near me I will increase the magic damage you do." The hyper Pixie cheers.
"Excellent timing. The Elves want us to kill whoever is leading the Ogre healing." Laura explains.
"I can drag us into stealth once we find the leader. Put down the Breath Attack while we search." The Ice Fog in the Shaman ranks highlights their leader in a hurry, the largest of them starts roaring out orders and organizing area healing to keep his compatriots alive.
Before anyone realizes what's happening, one of the Dragons disappears from sight, reappearing behind the head Shaman just as a Pixie Blade slams through the Ogre's skull. Four sets of claws follow, tearing the limbs off the spell Caster before both turn on the surrounding Ogres. The second Dragon throws a fresh coating of Ice Fog Breath over the battlefield and rejoins the front lines, confident in her clones ability to deal with the healers.
"What is the timing on that Breath attack?" The Elven general asks his adjutant.
"Thirty seconds sir. Be very, very glad they're on our team. Even level 60 Ogres are being frozen solid and killed by a single attack." The adjutant responds, marveling at the Carnage being inflicted on their foes.
The healing has dropped by an astounding amount, the Dragon and the tiny Assassin keeping the Shamans too busy to heal anyone but each other. That has allowed the defenders to push the Ogres a ways down the hill, leaving their flank an easy target for the Elven Archers and Troll Spear Throwers.
The Ogres seem to have now accepted that this push has failed and are retreating back out of range of the plateau.
"They're retreating, it's time for us to head back to the Guild and get them clear to advance up the stairs." Elmira declares, scratching the sweet spot on Laura's head just behind her right horn.
"If you say so. Let's get going then."
The Elves wave as the Dragons fly off, but quickly realize they're only going far enough to join the other battle down below. The Orcs have successfully surrounded the camp, starting a massacre among the goblins and heavily wounded Ogres. They're desperately short on Shamans it seems, all they had went to the main fight in the valley, leaving nothing back here at camp to deal with the cursed and crippled fighters.
Ogre Shamans have a hard time regrowing limbs, an ability that transfer type Clerics gain around level 60, depending on their skill path. Misha got the improved healing spell closer to level 50, since she didn't need to put points into defensive skills while fighting alongside Cain.
Without anyone to refresh the barrier, the Ogres have surrounded the Darklight Host, but that just gives them more targets to pick from. So many have fallen that the Guild is slowly building a wall of corpses in a ring around their position, astounding the defenders on the plateau.
"Don't they ever die? I swear they only had two dozen trolls to begin with, and they're all still there." An Elven Officer asks nobody in particular and the Troll King preens in pride.
"Trolls are strong. If we weren't so outnumbered by these abominable Ogres they would never have taken land from us." The King declares. Of course, they're heavily outnumbered down below too, but that doesn't seem to matter to any of them.
"Do you think the Beast King sent these forces? There's some sort of snake, as well as the Snapping Turtles with them too." A Troll speculates in a deep rough voice like grinding rocks.
"Those are Lamia, a form of Demon, not a Beastkin. There are a number of Bears though, but I see Spirit Folk Druids, so those are likely Guardian Spirits, not Beastkin." An Elven scout points out.
"Guard the ridge line, give the reinforcements somewhere safe to retreat to should this battle turn ugly for them." The Elven General instructs. That doesn't seem likely though, the Ogre camp is in flames, and the Green Orc force that raided it is advancing into the rear lines of the Ogres, who were already struggling to deal with the enemies they had.
"Send the Dragons to carve us a path." Gillian, the Orcish matriarch shouts and Laura takes to the air, laying down a strip of Ice Fog the length of the battle, first one clone then the other to extend the length.
That's enough to turn the tide, the Orcs split the force in half, stifling all attempts at coordination and letting the side without especially durable Tanks be surrounded and overrun in a matter of minutes.
The remainder try to flee, but aren't fast enough. The Dragons have ringed them in with Ice Breath in their back lines, leaving them nowhere to retreat to.
The fight ends in a rout, not a single Ogre escapes, and the two Guilds regroup.
"Any losses?" Cain asks and Gillian shakes her head.
"It came close a few times, but we all managed to pull through. We will need a high level cleric though, we've got some nasty curses and a few missing limbs to deal with." She explains and Cain motions the healers forward to go take care of their friends.
"These might be just the help we need to retake the capital Your Majesty." The Elven General smiles at the Troll King, looking down at the mass of organized fighters and the devastation left in their wake. Just the fact they've brought Dragons into the fight changes everything.
