{Anyways, the main piece is oure potassium-deity's, @bananafish's, "Finish the Story" contest, the thirtieth (three zero!) iteration so far! Click here to see it... Cheers to you, @dirge, for making the prompt this time and your contest as well! Tag along music for the entire post: "Resonance" (Project Borealis OST).}

Banner done by @f3nix

- A Divine Intervention -

Prompt done by @dirge

Shog, called the Bonecrusher by his people, knew they’d lost when human horns roared across the battlefield. The Imperiate had come after all, to aid their elven allies of the Alish’tae Republic. Shog’s people, orcs of the Galak Tribe, so named after the mountain upon which they’d once lived, fought hard and well. But they fought alone.
Orcs no allies. Not even their Gods, the Old Ones, cared anymore.

As the morning sun crept above the clouds, illuminating the blood soaked fields, the Imperiate horsemen charged out from the forest. Muk’nola, matriarch of the Galaks, sounded her war horn, signalling the retreat. But it would be too late, Shog knew. Those horsemen would slaughter them as they fled. Their children, next.

An elf, empowered by the sense of looming victory, stormed forward from their line, straight towards Shog. He parried the elf’s longsword then heaved his mighty hammer, Breaker of Worlds, in a perfect arc. It smashed upon the elf’s helmeted skull, and he proved his namesake for the countless time. The elf’s head exploded in bone and carnage.

“Back!” he heard. “Fall back!” In disarray, the others around him fled towards Bloodneck Valley, where they’d encamped. Their position fell. Shog screamed to maintain the line but knew the day was lost. His people fled. He had no choice but to follow.

He reached the camp, already nearly moving again, fleeing up the valley to the highlands. Shog, exhausted, reached Zee-zee, his daughter, and Gheelah, his love. Gheelah had already packed their yurt and few remaining possessions. “Flee!” he shouted to her.

“And you?” Gheelah asked.

“I stay to hold them back.”

In typical orcish fashion, their utter devotion, love and mutual respect expressed itself only in their shared gaze, never in public, spoken word. He gripped her hand. He told Zee-zee to be strong. Gheelah nodded. Then the doy galloped away with the rest of the fleeing, broken host.

Muk-nola, matriarch, rallied the remaining Galak warriors. They reformed to a single line. Bloodneck Valley was narrow. Rocky. Layered with crimson colored clay. The land elevated as it led to the Highlands, their only advantage.

Maybe at the height of the tribe’s strength, before the humans had come with their purges and stolen their land, before the elves had arrived to ‘cleanse the world of evil’, maybe they would have been strong enough. But Shog saw they had a few hundred left. A few hundred to hold a line against an entire battalion of Imperiate horsemen and Alish’tae swordsmen, the latter no doubt already being reinforced.

The ‘Fair Folk’ would aim to eradicate the Galak now, as they fled.

Shog marched up to Muk-nola. She hailed him. “Yog-Sothoth burns in us,” she said.

“Yog-Sothoth hasn’t given a shit about us since Galak Mountain ceased its fire,” Shog replied.

Imperiate horns loomed. The sun flared, blinding Shog for a moment. Another disadvantage. The ground rumbled with the cavalry charge.

“Either way. I’ll crush his soul in hell. Right after I’m done with these Fair Folk.”

Ending done by @theironfelix

Echoes clamber about the hall, two mysts spoke to each other across the ages through a galaxy hopper:

"Oh Dark Myst of Red-Flame..."

Three thuds pierce the gate doors, Dark Myst replies:

"Oh. Whom be at th' hatch, oh Red Myst of Black-Flame?"

"Ah! Sorry dear Red-Flame, for my Lieu Colonel calls me... but we'll chatter after a seventy-two."

"'Tis a long wait - yet one I can alleviate."

And so the galaxy hoppers were sliced shut, prompting Black-Flame to call:

"Enter! What perturbs thee, Lieu Colonel?"

Doors swung open, a red-shining armored knight marches - armed with a bastard sword, Ravennan crossbow and a dark steed. Mounting off, the void-faced Lieu kneels and reports:

"Oh Black-Flame, I beseech thee! After Yog-Sothoth's untimely demise at the grey-fingers of the New Angels and He from many moons, the Galaks suffer'd many blows. Lemme demonstrate."

And a galaxy hopper is ripped, displaying the current battle top-wards - a lucky orc throw strikes a cavalrymen which scared the Imperiate away. Yet many Galaks are strewn about - The Great Helmsman coming down to collect their spirits for the voyage. By then, the galaxy hopper is closed and Black-Flame speaks:

"I see... and I felt New Angelic corruption burning this Red Myst of mine. No doubt the New Angels spread... viciously. Where be the... I forget he's been captured and renamed to S-C-P 0-4-9 - heck!... So Lieu Colonel, haven't yah muster'd the Red-Knights!"

"Indeed I have levied all available, we must rush for I fear the Galaks' time is dyin'."

"Marsz! I shall have the hopper ready!"

The horns toot'd, the thunderous wave of noise scraped the Earth and the Great Helmsman o'er there waited. But there stood defiant the war-band, not giving one inch and roaring against the call. Yet only the fleeing personal knew of the roar's truth, a sorrowful moan of departure. Alas! The skies bled and trumpets emanated from the Heavens, came down the Red-Cavalry and Red Myst that quaked the Earth upon impact. A black flame emitted from the Red Myst and soon a battle summon of a giant's giant formed between the two warring factions. Black-Flame, connected by a wire to the giant, came forth and knelt to Muk-nola - speaking carefully:

"Oh Muk-nola and prideful Galaks! I come forth, not for glory nor yer vassalage! Nae! I came to root out this corrupted Holiness of "Fair Folk." Yog-Sothoth has permanently been relieved of duties post-mortem, for the unlit flame stole their personal power to struggle. So now I must make... amends... to the unforeseen consequences here - so I grant my body to slaughter with ye!"

Shog chiming:

"What good is your word!"

"Brave soul, I forgive thy tongue! Yet, let's save chatter after we quench oure blood lust! Death to the Fair Folk! Marsz! Marsz! Marsz!"

The steady gallops of many feet played a tune - of one final fight. The hopeless courage of Chaos against Ordered Anti-Chaos began now the true struggle.

Gloria fortis miles!

Cited posts:

@bananafish - "Finish the story, thirtieth iteration"

Cited images

@f3nix - Official Storyteller Banner