Shadow Wolf time! This is part of my weekly writing exercise, written raw and rough. The first story arc, Blade Breaker, can be found here. The first story of this arc, Red Fangs, can be found here. The previous week’s post can be found here.
There was a thud, followed by the splintering of wood and the tortured screams of metal. A team of vampires can make short work of all but the strongest of doors. Frenzied forms spilled into the room, fangs glinting in the firelight. Murith’s arbalest twanged and one of them slammed into the wall. More of them pushed in, threatening to drown us.
Berkhilda pushed into them like a stone in a river, her axe cutting a glittering arc in the half-dark. She cut a swathe into them before two burly forms grappled her.
My armaments were a heavy Nordan Broadsword for taking heads and spilling guts and a sturdy skinning knife for close up. Nordan Swords are often mocked in places like Myrrhn for being ungainly, but an extra pound or two on the blade is quite handy when trying to kill a foe that does not balk at wounds that most men find mortal.
The first vampire that closed with me came in head first, lunging for the neck, hungry for blood; idiot. He was faster than a man, but his trajectory was easy to predict and my sword came down on top of his head. There was a jolt of impact, a crunch and a splash, no helm this one. Then he crumpled to the ground.
My next opponent was a crafty one, ducking out from behind the falling body. He was upon me before I could react, stabbing at me with a pair of wicked knives. My kingsmail too most of the sting from his blows. The pommel of my sword crashed against his skull and my knife found his throat as he staggered back, sending him reeling into the shadows to die.
Others closed in on me and I send them back with a few wide slashes of my sword so I could gauge the flow of battle.
Berkhilda was still up but the two big forms she was struggling with had pushed her back into the room. Renoit was killing anything foolish enough to move into the circle of light around the fire. Bull was backed against the wall laying about him with a wicked looking truncheon. Despite his size and strength he was in danger of being overwhelmed. His other hand was fumbling with something, but I could not see what. Git and Murith were lost among the press of bodies.
Pushing my way toward Berkhilda and Bull, I cut down a foolish assailant who made a lunge at me with a sword, battering aside his weapon and bringing my own blade down on the back of his neck as he stumbled. My forward progress was halted, however, when a huge form pushed in on me, swinging a massive weapon, forcing me to duck and back away before countering with a thrust. My blade sunk into flesh, but the brute dropped his weapon and wrapped his arms around me, hoisting me from the ground.
The sight of Murith perched on a beam calmly loading her weapon and firing it into the crowd, greeted me as the brute began to crush me. Across the room Bull threw the bundle in his arm into the air as his attackers bore down on him. It seemed to expand in the air before falling, blanketing them, causing the onslaught to stumble as the big man began to savagely beat the struggling forms. A net most likely.
Murith fired a bolt into the back of my captor and I stabbed him in the neck as his grip loosened. Berkhilda let out a shout of triumph as she hacked down one of the big men vampires fighting her. I saw Git then, standing in her shadow. The Goblin took advantage of the space gained to spray a reeking, thick liquid at the vampires from one of his canisters. A chorus of shrieks followed.
The pressure eased. I cut down two of the vampires as they tried to flee. Then the night was quiet save for the sound of heavy breathing and running feet as our foes retreated from the tower.
Everyone was battered, but still standing. At least a dozen of the Vampires lay dead, most of those were poorly armed, and my guess is that few of them were skilled fighters. One of the forms at Berkhilda’s feet was fully armoured, but the rest lacked good fighting gear.
Satisfied, I turned to Renoit. As usual, his clothes weren’t even bloody and he barely seemed winded.
“Did they get her?”