+++ ???’s Perspective +++

"Target eliminated," the silver-clad knight reported with grim satisfaction, as the mercenary's lifeless form was impaled upon the door of the carriage, blood pooling around him. He raised his bow once again, poised to take down any further targets that might reveal themselves. "There ought to be at least two occupants within that vehicle."

“Aim for the spokes.” Hilicind pointed his gauntlets at the wheels, “Draw.”

Upon his command a volley was unleashed upon the carriage before the knight company, peppering the vehicle in arrows.  Though the vehicle bore the brunt of the assault with visible damage, it persisted in its course undeterred.

"Once more," he ordered. In response, the carriage was beset once more by a hail of bolts unleashed by the silver knight squadron, determined to breach its defenses.

Before the black knight commander could sanction the third salvo, a couple of shadowy figures were jettisoned from the swiftly moving carriage and disappeared into the thicket of the forest. Several astute knights attempted to halt their escape, by firing a flurry of arrows towards the fleeting silhouettes, only to see them vanish amidst the dense foliage.

“Director. Your orders?” The lieutenant awaited instructions from the black knight, their position getting further and further away from where the figures had leapt from the carriage. 

“Tch. Crafty bunch aren’t they?” Hilicind disdainfully remarked, “Assign the 3rd squad to pursue the stragglers. Eliminate any witnesses exiting the woods and collect data on the unleashed demon if possible.”

“Yes Director!” A synonymous response was given as seven knights broke away from the main platoon, intent on carrying out their orders. As the echo of their horses' hooves gradually faded away, Hilicind redirected his focus towards the fleeing carriage.

“Draw.”

Amidst the relentless onslaught of successive volleys, the metal-tipped arrowheads eventually homed in on their target - the slender wheels of the carriage - causing them to wrench free from their hinges. The carriage careened and toppled to the side of the road. Hubert and Glyake attempted to escape on horseback, but they had been too slow as the knight company caught up to them.

Surrounded by the imposing ranks of silver-clad knights, Glyake stepped forth and gave a deep bow despite bearing the wounds inflicted upon him by the carriage crash. “To what do I owe this pleasure convoy captain? Hirlicind, I believe it was?” He let out a rueful smile. “I don’t recall any prior grievances with the Enigma Troupe.”

Hirlicind clicked his tongue as he dismounted his horse, “You Telderanes and your network. Always sticking your noses where they don’t belong.”

“If you are to let us go about our way, I assure you we shall look no further into your business.” Glyake bargained. “You shall find our family has no qualms about turning the cheek.”

The black knight answered him with silence.

“I assure you I am but a recent immigrant into the republic. My words would hold no sway even if I were to go back on them.” Glyake reasoned, “Furthermore you would hold leverage over the house Telderane with my survival. I shall promise to return the favor in the future.”

“There are no promises you can give me that are more certain than your death.” The black knight drew his blade as he came closer, “I apologize it has come to this. The rare straggler I can permit, but someone of your standing is simply impossible.”

“My lord!” Hubert sprang forward, shielding Glyake with his arm as the obsidian blade was leveled menacingly at them, brimming with a sinister aura. He knew he was outmatched, even without the silver knights surrounding them it was clear the black knight standing before him could cut him down with a single swing if he wanted to. 

He knew it was a hopeless situation, but if he were to die in the defense of his lord, it would be a good death. 

As he faced the dark knight with his blade drawn, he only hoped a miracle could save the one he owed his loyalty to.

In a somber, mournful tone, Hirlicind spoke with a hint of regret. 

“I shall make this painless.”

 

+++ ???’s Perspective +++

Jaggeroth leaned against Zorana, his back slick with cold sweat, as the Wolfenhils closed in on them. He grumbled in annoyance, “That damned Prisilla just up and left without a word,” he complained, wearied from the prolonged battle. His fists, now leaden with fatigue, had become a burden to lift.

“She left. For bigger prey.” Zorana replied simply, gripping her sledgehammer tight, “Our job now. Live.”

“Yeah that’s great and all but I don’t see us getting out of this one.”

One of the  savage creatures charged forth and Jaggeroth met it midway with his gauntlets. As he broke the skull of the charging beast, three more flanked him on his side and he swiveled to meet them only to realize they had grounded his left foot to the dirt with black stone magic.

“Grrahh.” Jaggeroth summoned his strength and shattered the brittle restraint that held him captive. However, his efforts were not quick enough to evade the frenzied attack of the beasts, resulting in two vicious bites to his right arm. "Damned mutts!" he bellowed in frustration, swinging his free fist with a mighty force, dealing a devastating blow to the neck of one of the creatures. Then, with a fierce determination, he slammed his right side into the ground, crushing the skull of the other monster with a sickening thud.

Slash.

“GAH!” Jaggeroth cried out in agony as he felt the sharp claws of a supposedly dead Wolfenhil slash his back thigh, leaving a shallow, but gruesome wound that festered with umbral energy. To his dismay, he realized that the first beast who had charged was undead, still moving despite its shattered skull. “Are you serious right now?” He muttered in disbelief.

“Ngh.” His sharp beastman ears picked up the scraping noise of bone against metal and as he spared a quick glance towards his companion he realized Zorana had been surrounded and pelted by stone shards, several sizable breaches already apparent on her armor. Whether those holes were from tooth or stone he wasn’t sure.

It was certainly not looking good for them.

“So this is it huh.” Jaggeroth was oddly calm in these moments however, enough to even spare a laugh at the hopeless ordeal he had volunteered himself within. “Dying in battle. Man my shit eatin gramps woulda been proud.”

“Jaggeroth.” The bronze giant stumbled back towards him, unable to continue bearing the magical onslaught. Despite pain and injury her voice remained ever steady. “I declare myself Zorana Stoneheart. It has been an honor.”

“Ha. A fitting name.” The beastman pumped his knuckles together for one last stand. “Jaggeroth. Got no fancy last name.”

“Yet you fight with noble valor.” Zorana steadied herself with her sledgehammer as the Wolfenhils circled once more, “Go. I cannot outpace these wolves. But you may still live.”

“Ha.” Jaggeroth laughed once again, “With this leg and their noses? I ain’t getting far. Besides, with that demon about there ain’t nowhere to run to.”

“Then. Let us take as many as we can.”

“Agreed.”

Sensing their moment to strike the Wolfenhils charged, intent on turning the prey before them into mince meat.

But the ones that were alive were shot dead in their tracks, and the undead wolves were restrained by red shackles.

“Get back!” Sensing the strange attack Jaggeroth shoved the guardian with all of his might, getting her to stumble backwards just before a red bolt of crimson struck where she once stood.

The Wolfenhils and the adventurers looked up to see short, humanoid satyr-like creatures painted in blood. Their oblong pupils scanning the battleground relentlessly as their tribalistic weapons were pointed directly at the confrontation.

“Redcaps. Damn.” If Jaggeroth had any hopes of escaping before, they were long gone now. A tribe of Redcaps were rated at least B ranked for their combat and magical prowess. They were highly aggressive, merciless, and their sadistic nature left horror stories of torture and slavery in their wake. “Zorana. Those guys are...”

“Cowardly creatures.” For the first time, Jaggeroth heard a hint of fear in her voice, “With no honor. No respect for the rite of battle.” 

The redcap warriors jumped from the slope and surged into battle, but as the two prepared themselves, something rather peculiar occurred.

The Wolfenhils ran to meet them, and a bloody brawl broke out. The Wolfenhils far outnumbered the Redcaps, but each of the goat legged humanoids fought with an outrageous fury.

The two adventurers stood motionless on the sidelines.

“What?” Jaggeroth was thoroughly perplexed. It was unheard of for monster waves to turn on their own kind. While the creatures may occasionally engage in skirmishes in the wild, if their individualistic nature manifested itself during a monster wave, it would break down from the onset. “What the hell is going on?”

“The demon. Is foreign.” However, Zorana understood what was happening. The pack of Nyxarus was regarded as just as much an obstacle as they were, even more so given their dangerous magic and numbers. “They attack. The foreign monsters.”

“Oh.”

It clicked.

They were still enemies, but they did share a mutual foe. One that was much more dangerous than they were. A three way face off if you will.

This was a prime opportunity to flee but Jaggeroth suddenly had a crazy idea.

An idea that would surely get him killed, but first...

“Hey Zorana. I think... this time, you should run.”

“Pardon?” The bronze guardian stared at him, confused.

“No offense, but you’re a bit too slow for what I have in mind.”

 

+++ Alfon’s Perspective +++

It was a pyrrhic sight.

My mother had been victorious, but at what cost?

“Mother, please, try to stay conscious,” I pleaded, tears welling up in my eyes as I watched her deteriorate before me. Her once soft and warm skin was now liquifying into a thick, black tar-like substance that was rotting away, the sickening stench of decay emanating from her body. Every movement caused small chunks of blackened flesh to slough off, exposing the red, dark, necrotizing tissue underneath.

You were never supposed to face so many undead in close quarters combat, and certainly not with bladed weapons.

As we trudged past the camp and onto the road I glared at the two dozen or so combatants with resentment.

Despite saving their sorry hides, despite quite literally risking her own life to get them out of the cesspit of zombies and stray Wolfenhils, none of them were willing to lend her a shoulder to lean on for fear of the umbral contamination.

None but the priestess.

I gripped mother’s malformed hand tight as she leaned heavily against Lirien for support, her breathing shallow and labored.

The lone priestess had the duty of steadying my mother and wheeling around the still unconscious Helena in a wagon behind her despite the others protesting her to just drop the bronze haired spellcaster.

‘She is my patient. I will decide what to do with her.’ She had said to them with a fury in her eyes that told them their rightful place.

“Thank you again Lirien.” I expressed my gratitude towards the selfless woman.

“Huh?” She absentmindedly gazed at me with a tired expression before realizing I was speaking to her, “Oh. Yes, my pleasure...”

“Halt!” One of the remaining scouts shouted back at us. “More Wolvenhils.”

“How the hell do they keep finding us?” I heard a grumble in front of me. “This is the fourth time already.”

“The smell idiot! What else? We’re never getting out.”

“Ah, I shoulda just freakin ran...”

“Where to numbskull?”

The bickering escalated once again. 

These... Goddamn.... Brainless... Senseless... Wastes of oxygen....

I was on the verge of falling over myself but I was seriously contemplating just sending an icicle at the eyeballs of one of these incompetent nincompoops.

I felt a hand over my clenched fists, that had started to glow a soft blue.

“Alfy... Don’t...” I watched in horror as my mother forced her body to move. She gave me a half smile through the parts of her face that still worked, “Mommy will... protect you.”

“Blademaiden you are in no condition to...” Lirien began.

“Priestess Lirien.” But mother stopped her with one look, “If I don’t. Who will?” She smiled once more at the crestfallen Lirien.

“Keep... looking after Alfy.” She coughed out, “That’s all I ask.”

“I... I will.” 

Mother nodded in affirmation before unsheathing her daggers. She stepped forward and the crowd of arguing combatants quickly parted for her.

“Form up.” She uttered coldly.

They listened without a word of complaint and prepared themselves for the oncoming monsters. Funny thing I’ve noticed: despite their incessant complaining and bickering, despite their cowardly nature, despite their sloppy combat skills.

They all still desperately wanted to live. Part of what makes you human I guess.

As I hid myself behind Lirien, waiting in anticipation, I swore I heard a sound coming from behind us.

“Oi scout, you sure you saw them right?” One of the adventurers asked rudely.

“Positive. I barely got away.”

“Yeah sure yo-”

“Silence.” Mother ordered.

...

...we held our breath, until suddenly...

Mother swung around and shouted in my direction.

“Behind!” 

CRASH.

CRUNCH.

An enormous umbral shadow tore through the woods and loomed over us, its dark form blotting out the light and casting an eerie chill in the air. Its massive paw shredding up the road beneath by merely standing upon it. The creature's singular yellow eye shot a piercing, malevolent gaze upon us, and its snout curled into a sickening grin, as if relishing in the terror it caused. 

It was Nyxarus.

But the Slaughter Hound looked different.

Upon its dark shadowy fur lay a wreath of skulls, and it seemed... bigger.

Everyone stood frozen in horror before mother, once again, moved first and charged at the demon with a movement so swift her daggers caught its fur in a split second.

Or... perhaps it didn’t, for her blades passed through the shadow like it was made of smoke. The creature didn't even flinch or acknowledge the attack, as if it was not even there.

“POSITIONS!” Mother cried out. Her voice suddenly shocked everyone into action and the armed fighters surged forth to meet her command. Meanwhile Lirien picked me up and flung me back on the cart before making a break for it.

As the wagon carried me and the fainted Helena along I closed my eyes and held my head in my hands.

I... didn’t look back.

I was afraid of what I would see.

But try as I might I couldn’t cover up the sounds that emanated from behind me.

At first there was the shiing of steel being drawn.

Then the flurry of shouts.

Then there was silence.

...

Before the crunching of flesh, and the snapping of bones.

It was followed by a low reverberating howl, the laughter of a demon.

And then there were the screams.

The painful, guttural screams of agony.

I clenched my fists so hard that ice started forming on my fingertips, praying to anything and everything that I wouldn’t hear my mother’s cry.

And for once.

...

Whatever was out there listened.

“Where are you going NYAAAAAAWARRR?”

SLRUNCH.

Even from here I could hear it, the tearing of fur and the grinding of pelt.

I turned and looked back.

With grace and agility, a familiar feline companion pounced upon the demon's back, her wicked halberd sinking deep into its flesh with a fierce slash. In that moment, she became a symbol of hope, a shining example of our ability to face the darkest of terrors with nothing but the fury in our eyes and the weapons in our grasp.

Prisilla, the Valkyrie of the Dragon’s Teardrop had arrived.

At that moment the effects of mana overuse caught up to me, and I fainted.