“As you can see, the mountain ranges encompass this entry point almost entirely. The Orcish vanguard actually marched upon us from amongst those foothills but the main hordes would have trouble maintaining formation through such rough terrain so we’re expecting them to approach through this pass” she moved her arm to indicate the direction. “Now, the standard Orc troop is armed with…” Alatearame was cut of by a sudden and unwelcome sound. The sound of mighty drumming emanating from the hills. It was an audible warning that Alatearame knew all too well. The Orcs were returning and this time, it wouldn’t be a screening force. The main battle was upon them. She dropped her arm and turned towards her remaining troops to give orders. “We have incoming! All units form up and establish defensive positions around the entry point.” Before she could continue, she noticed a thick sticky liquid forming a puddle near her foot. Turning swiftly to identify the source, she realised that the divine kitchenhands were all drooling. Their faces had taken on a demonic scowl that chilled her to the bone. Their eyes burned like fire as their forked tongues lashed the air like whips. Steam was rising from their mouths as their drooling was superheated by some internal fire that Alatearame could only guess about. Were these demigods or demons?
Troops were running in every direction to form their defensive perimeter and the Orcish horde was storming towards the outpost like a green avalanche. Suddenly, Celarius spoke in a voice unlike any Alatearame had ever heard. A voice so resonant and powerful that she almost fell back down the ladder. “Crispy Bacon!” Edamgouda added to the still echoing atmosphere of the warzone “Succulent Pork!” Moments later, even Semillion chimed in with “Honey Glazed Ham!” A fear gripped Alatearame the likes of which she had never known. Just what were these beings? Before she had the opportunity to reflect on this internal question, the three divine kitchenhands leapt down from the lookout post and began running towards the hordes. “Wait! Come back! We need to hold the position!” Alatearame called after them to no avail. The three had the scent of pork products in their nostrils and there was now no stopping them.
The troops of the 7th brigade were almost in position but Alatearame could not tear herself away from the scene that was unfolding on the battlefield. The Orcish hordes had moved into battle formation and were prepared to march on her position while the three divine kitchenhands stood between the two, continuing to drool with anticipation of what awaited them. The Orc commander grunted out some orders to his forces and they braced themselves for battle, spears coming to the ready and the shields forming up in the phalanxes. The divine kitchenhands didn’t move in the slightest and if anything, their drooling intensified. The tension could have been cut with Semillion’s knife if he had the coordination to do so and both sides were teetering on the edge of engagement, the anticipation absolutely electrifying.
The order was issued by the Orc commander and the hordes began casting their spears towards the three. The sky was almost blackened with projectiles and Alatearame waited with baited breath to see the divine kitchenhands in action. Edamgouda raised his hand towards the heavens and decreed in a voice of immense intensity “By the power of the almighty Pothcroth, supreme God of cookery, I summon the divine bib of guarding!” The clouds parted and an enormous, ethereal bib descended from the heavens. It was large enough to stand before the three divine kitchenhands and stood over 20 feet tall. It glowed with a majestic radiance and was emblazoned with the seal of the almighty Pothcroth, a roast pig complete with an apple in its mouth. The flying spears of the Orcish hordes hit the divine bib of guarding and simply deflected away except for one poorly aimed spear which passed to the side of the bib. Semillion ran to his left to collect the spear and, as it was what was happening with the rest of them, decided that it was a good idea to throw this spear at the bib too. After all, it might feel left out. He cast the spear at the bib and it deflected back and bounced off his saucepan helmet. Semillion stood there looking dazed for a moment and fought to stop himself from crying again.
As the final spear deflected off the divine bib of guarding, Celarius stepped around it and faced off against the hordes, reaching his hand towards the sky and proclaiming “By the power of the almighty Pothcroth, supreme God of cookery, I summon the divine cupcake sprinkles of flaying!” Instantly, a stream of multi-coloured sprinkles began descending from amongst the clouds directly towards Celarius. Just as leading edge of the stream was upon him, Celarius raised his other hand and pointed it towards the assembled masses of Orcs. The stream of sprinkles deflected off his outstretched hand and poured down on the Orcs with all the intensity of hellfire. The multi-coloured stream of cake decorations tore through the Orc’s armour like an arrow through tissue paper and the Orcs in its path were swiftly cut to pieces. Celarius guided the stream across the ranks of Orcs, leaving nothing but devastation and sliced bacon. Seeing their comrades taking this punishment was enough to cause the remaining Orcs to break formation and begin charging towards the three divine kitchenhands. They focused their offensive on Semillion who had not yet participated in the battle in any meaningful way.
Semillion raised his hand towards the sky and began to scream in anticipation. The hordes moved closer and Semillion was still screaming, appearing to take no action to stop them whatsoever. Finally, he called out “Give me the mighty tongs of holding. Please”. Nothing appeared to happen and Semillion was still standing there, hand raised to the heavens with the horde teaming towards him. Somewhat confused, Semillion lowered his hand and turned away from the oncoming Orcs. He looked at his hand as if it were a broken toy, trying to figure out what went wrong. Alatearame began to panic as it was clear that even with the mighty powers of the divine kitchenhands, Semillion was about to get swarmed by the Orcs and the line would buckle. While Semillion was still inspecting his hand, a dark shape came down from the clouds. What appeared to be a giant’s bottle of barbecue sauce landed on top of the oncoming Orcs, crushing them and ending the offensive. Somehow, Semillion had managed to summon the Divine Barbecue Sauce bottle. It was even smokey barbecue, the perfect companion for the pork meat that was the Orcs it had crushed.
The troops of the Ebulonite 7th brigade looked over the battlefield in utter amazement. The entire Orcish assault had been quashed in a matter of minutes using nothing more than a bib, cupcake sprinkles and a bottle of smokey barbecue sauce. What WERE these beings? Nemmin joined Alatearame in the lookout post to witness the carnage just as the three divine kitchenhands assembled in a circle. They then crossed their giant cutlery pieces together in the fashion of knights crossing swords and began to chant. “Ham and Bacon and Roast Pork, I want piggy on my fork.” Nemmin turned to Alatearame with an exasperated look on his face “What on earth are they doing now?” The chanting suddenly stopped and the three declared in perfect unity “By the power of the almighty Pothcroth, supreme God of cookery, we summon the skillet of the heavens!” On command, a frying pan almost as large as the outpost itself descended from the sky and came to rest before the three. In a flurry of action, the divine kitchenhands moved to the frying pan and attempted to light a fire under it with which to cook their hard won feast. After several minutes of work, Edamgouda turned back towards the outpost and addressed Alatearame, still standing in the lookout post. “Commander, how can we start a fire on such a frigid and snow covered landscape?”
Alatearame turned to her assembled troops and issues orders for her sappers to assist the divine kitchenhands by lighting a fire under the frying pan. As she turned back, Nemmin addressed his commander “Ma’am, I must confess I am confused. Why are we lighting a fire for them?” Smiling for the first time that day, Alatearame simply said to Nemmin “Well, they saved our bacon back there. So it’s only right that we save theirs.” Nemmin snorted in laughter and proceeded to descend the ladder in order to assist the troops in their efforts. Alatearame issued orders to her remaining troops to assist in gathering the fallen Orcs for the divine kitchenhands.