LOTR: Bringing an MC System to Middle-Earth

Under Azog's command, the front line of orcs raised their shields and braced their spears against the oncoming cavalry and war chariots. They formed a dense defensive formation, ready to meet the charge.

But whether it was the dwarves' gear or Eric's tricks, the orcs had no idea what they were truly up against.

Fwoosh!

A firework bolt whistled through the air and exploded right in the middle of their line. Packed with seven full charges of Starfire powder, the blast rocked the formation, hurling shields out of orcish hands. Several of them were knocked flat from the sheer force alone.

Then came the dwarven goat cavalry.

The mountain goats, with their massive, spiraling horns, charged forward like living battering rams. Unlike horses, these creatures were built for impact. When they slammed into spears, the ones to suffer weren't the goats.

Even elven shield formations had trouble stopping these riders.

What chance did malnourished orcs have?

With a thunderous crash, the goats plowed into the orc line, sending bodies flying in all directions. Behind them rolled in the real threat—five dwarven war chariots, each pulled by equally formidable horned goats.

The goats lowered their heads and barreled through the ranks, launching orcs into the air like ragdolls. The heavy wheels clattered over the fallen without the slightest pause.

On each side of the wheels, spinning alloy blades whirled at deadly speed. Orcs who tried to flank the vehicles found themselves cleaved in half—armor and all, leaving nothing behind but mangled limbs and rivers of blood.

The chariots tore through the formation, cleaving a gory path straight through the army.

The road they carved was exactly as wide as the vehicles themselves.

Standing at the back, Eric glanced at the spinning blades of the chariots' rear wheels and couldn't help but compare them in his mind.

Those things weren't just good against orc armor. If one of them clipped him, he'd probably lose a third of his health bar, even with decent gear.

Brutal tech, really. One touch and you're gone.

Under the combined might of the goat cavalry and chariots, the orc vanguard collapsed in utter chaos. Limbs, broken shields, and twitching bodies littered the ground.

The formation? Obliterated. No orc in that path remained whole. The five chariots had carved up the footsoldiers like firewood.

"Bring in the beasts!" Azog roared.

Against unconventional weapons, unconventional counters were required. Chariots might devastate infantry, but a properly-sized monster could swat them like flies.

"Our beasts suffered heavy losses," Bolg muttered beside him, less enthusiastic.

They had sacrificed most of their heavy beasts earlier when trying to break through the fortress walls, falling victim to Eric's endless surprises.

"Only a few trolls left now."

Not even a single Olog-hai in sight.

"Then get those trolls moving!"

Clang! Clang!

The orcs scrambled to clear a path. Hulking trolls lumbered forward, their massive forms better suited to handling a charging war chariot than the scattered infantry had been. If they could just land a single hit...

Fwoosh!

Eric loosed a fire arrow that struck the lead troll square in the chest. With a whoosh, it burst into flames.

The troll dropped to the ground, writhing and howling, but no matter how much it rolled, the magical flames wouldn't die out. Trolls might be tough, but not fireproof.

Orcs rushed forward, frantically dumping buckets of water on it in a desperate attempt to smother the flames.

But neither Eric nor the dwarves planned to give them a moment's peace.

Arrows screamed through the air, Eric's burning projectiles and the chariots' rotating mounted crossbows both fired without pause. Those weren't for show. Each dwarven bolt was nearly as thick as a man's forearm and just as deadly. Troll hide or not, they punched through like spears.

Under a storm of crossbow fire, the trolls fell one after another before they could even reach the chariots.

"Damn it!" Azog growled, watching the dwarves and their human ally cut through his vanguard like a hot axe through wood.

He knew exactly what Eric was doing.

If he had even one proper war beast left—just one, those chariots would already be overturned and shredded.

Even a single Olog-hai would've been enough.

But they'd all been used up earlier in the siege, hurled at the fortress gates. And once the wall had finally broken, the few remaining heavy units were ordered inside to clear the way. Not a single one came back.

Now, all that remained were two catapult-trolls on the flanks—massive, slow things built to lob rocks, not engage the front lines.

"Keep them away! Release the beasts!"

Azog waved for his last-ditch measure.

Howl!

Wargs burst from the flanks, snarling and fanged, a wave of fur and muscle flooding toward the battle.

"Well... that's a problem," Eric muttered.

Trolls were bad. But Wargs? Far more mobile, far more numerous, and worst of all, natural enemies to goats.

Even one or two breaking through the line could spook the goats, throw off the chariots, and bring the whole assault to a halt.

"Prepare to dismount!" Thorin shouted from the front of a chariot.

They were likely going to have to fight on foot now.

Balin was busy cranking one of the mounted ballistae, taking potshots at the encroaching Wargs.

He glanced sideways and yelled, "Eric! Got any bright ideas? Maybe that windstorm spell Gandalf used back in Orc-town?"

Eric raised a brow and snorted. "Unless you've got a wizard staff lying around, we're fresh out of divine miracles. Best bet is hoping for literal divine intervention."

"Well, splendid," Balin grunted. "Any day now, please."

"Let's just cut our way through. We're not far from the ruins below Ravenhill. Once we reach it, I can seal the path behind us."

"Good enough for me."

"It'll just take some extra elbow grease."

Eric spun his sword and locked eyes with the oncoming swarm of Wargs, ready to hack his way through if he had to.

But just as the firepower from the chariots began to falter under the weight of the Warg assault, and the mountain goats were about to clash with the beasts head-on—

SCREEEEEE!

A shriek pierced the sky.

Eric looked up.

Seven or eight giant eagles swept down from the clouds, wings wide as sails. Their talons flashed like blades, snatching up Wargs and hurling them away like rag dolls.

And as one eagle dove, a figure leapt from its back, crashing to the ground in a blur before transforming mid-fall into a hulking bear.

The beast roared, smashing into the Warg horde like a living avalanche.

Beorn, the skin-changer.

"What the—?" Eric blinked.

Balin glanced up from his ballista. "Is it just me, or did your prayer get answered?"

"Don't look at me. I was joking."

Thorin chuckled from the front. "You always joke like that, or is this your version of summoning reinforcements?"

Eric rubbed his forehead. "Honestly, I don't even know anymore…"

Above, a familiar voice called down from one of the eagles.

"Hey-hooo! Didn't miss the party, did I?"

It was Radagast the Brown, flapping his robes wildly and waving his staff at Eric.

"Perfect timing!" Eric shouted back, grinning in disbelief.

"Ha! Let's see Gandalf call me useless now!" Radagast cackled, clearly taking this whole thing very personally.

While the eagles screeched overhead, tearing through orc formations, Beorn tore into the Warg pack with primal fury.

Azog's eyes narrowed.

"Can't handle Eric, but you think I'll let a bear run riot?"

He quickly ordered a specialized unit to surround and overwhelm the skin-changer. No matter how strong Beorn was, he couldn't fight forever. If he could, his people wouldn't have gone nearly extinct.

Soon enough, the bear began to slow. His attacks were fierce but losing steam.

The eagles, too, were starting to struggle. More trolls had emerged from the tunnels—tough, lumbering things swinging giant clubs into the sky.

Not a real threat, but annoying enough to force the eagles higher and slow their assault.

"I think it's time we pulled back," Radagast said to the eagles.

"I spotted Gandalf on the walls over there. We'll regroup."

And with that, the giant birds swooped down, scooped up the bear and the brown wizard, and soared off toward the distant fortress.

They left behind a battlefield in shambles, orc lines in chaos, and a bunch of angry trolls swinging clubs at empty air.

When the eagle assault finally ended, the orcs looked around to renew their pursuit of Eric and the dwarves...

Only to find that, down in the ruins beneath Ravenhill, a thick wall now stood—made of the same indestructible black stone as the city's defenses.

They had vanished behind it, completely sealed off.