The Vampire & Her Witch

While the left and right wings advanced toward ramps that would carry them to the top of the town walls, Captain Ultrech’s heavily armored Iron Tusk soldiers let loose with their own battle cry as they formed a single, cohesive block of men, charging straight toward the tunnel through the gatehouse toward the plaza beyond.

”Trample! Trample! Trample!”

The sound of armor jangling filled the air along with the rhythmic -THUD- -THUD- of a hundred feet marching in perfect unison at a pace that would rival trotting horses. But even the best trained of horses would struggle to match he disciplined pace with perfect spacing and interlocking shields that the Iron Tusked soldiers displayed as they advanced inexorably toward their enemies.

”Mark your targets!” the Glass Eyed captain following behind the rush of armored infantry shouted to the remaining twenty archers who followed him. ”Don’t waste an arrow on a hasty shot, Lord Hauke will give us cover!”

”Here that, Little Brother,” Heila said as she tugged on Hauke’s snow-white fur. ”It’s time for us to move, we have to finish preparing the way.”

Each step in the assault was a carefully coordinated dance, and every dancer had their role to play. Dame Sybyll and the Tuscans struck powerful blows that completely overwhelmed the defenders, forcing them into an even more passive, reactive posture than they’d been at the beginning and allowing the Second Army to dictate the flow of the battle.

Heila and Hauke were here to pave the way, from rotting away the gates to sealing off the murder holes in the gatehouse tunnel, their most important task was to ensure that the rest of the army was able to advance. Now, they raced down the length of the tunnel for the next stage of their advance.

As soon as they entered the plaza, Hauke stumbled to a stop, staring wide eyed at the clash between Sybyll, Lord Jalal, Kurtz and the Templars arrayed against them. He hadn’t even begun to process what he was seeing, however, before Heila gave him a pointed shove to one side of the tunnel.

”I’ll protect you,” she said, unfurling her whip with a sharp -SNAP- that startled the defenders in the plaza who were only now realizing that even more ’demons’ were coming through the gatehouse. Thankfully, with the intensity of the battle already taking place in the small plaza, none of the other defenders seemed inclined to charge forward when the diminutive witch took up her position standing guard over her much larger and more imposing friend.

”Focus on your barriers,” Heila said. ”The archers will be counting on you.”

”I understand,” Hauke replied, forcing himself to turn away from the spectacle in the plaza in order to focus on the complex structures of ice he needed to build.

Just as the humans had turned over tables and piled up improvised barricades in order to control movement on the battle field and blunt the attacker’s ability to rampage freely through the city, Hauke needed to protect the flanks of the advancing army from the Hanrahan forces blocking the streets to either side of the West Gate.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Hauke raised the Runic Blade of Eternal Ice above his horn, holding it out flat and parallel to the ground with one hand on the hilt and the other bracing the blade’s hilt. His iridescent horn blazed with pure icy blue radiance that flowed from the tip of his horn to the flat of the sword, lighting up one archaic rune after another until nearly a third of the runes on the blade pulsed with Hauke’s power.

”From snow to crystal. Crystal to wall. Tower above, and thick to guard,” he intoned, filling the plaza with a deep, rumbling voice that echoed off the stone walls just the way it had echoed off the towering mountains of the high pass, carrying power and intention that was clearer than the purest mountain stream.

All around him, the dirty, slushy snow that piled up near the walls and in the corners of the street began to shift and flow, melting under the pressure of Hauke’s power and following patterns inscribed into the Runic Blade of Eternal Ice by the Frost Architect Eraric himself.

”Stop him!” Sir Thorryn cried in horror as he realized that the pair of figures who seemed to have no intention of joining the battle in the plaza were performing witchcraft with a far more sinister purpose than simply joining the slaughter.

He had no idea what sort of demon the shaggy, horned beast was, but he could feel something impossibly old echoing from its words and the blade in his hand, shining with cold light like a frozen star within its depths, was surely the creation of dark, twisted magic.

”Spears!” Thorryn shouted as he realized that the only archers under his command had all been called up to the walls. ”Hurl your spears!”

Hauke’s sorcery was still only half complete, and the shimmering, wavering curtains of water that he placed to either side of the West Gate had yet to take their final form when a quartet of long spears came sailing through the air, passing effortlessly through the shimmering water as they descended toward Hauke’s focused, unmoving figure.

-CRACK- -CRACK- -CRACK- -CRACK

The whip in Heila’s hand lashed out at the flying spears, stretching for more than five paces to strike each spear in turn and delivering a powerful enough blow to not only deflect the falling spears, but snap them completely in half!

Sir Thorryn’s men stared in open-mouthed shock as the broken pieces of their spear clattered off the cobblestones of the plaza before a warm surge of fear that trickled down their pants reminded them to run back behind the barricade even though they were already convinced the wooden tables offered protection that was worse than useless.

Behind them, even Sir Thorryn wanted to turn and run... He was just a simple knight, tasked with the protection of a single village. What in the name of the Holy Lord of Light was he doing facing off against demons like these? And how was he supposed to survive this nightmare?