"Down!" she cried out.
She descended onto the beast’s back, driving the glowing blade straight into the rust-red mane at the base of its skull, aiming directly for the spinal cord to end the threat with a single, perfect strike.
The wood fibers of the gatehouse posts shrieked under the collective weight of the stampede. The gate entrance had beco a literal throat, vomiting a chaotic tide of slavering jaws and bristling hides directly into the path of Bramm’s heavy Dane axe.
He stood rooted in the center of the breach, his boots covered in a freezing slurry of mud and black primal fluids. Above him, the high alpine stars cast a cold, silver sheen over the tattered cloth of his mantle, but his focus was strictly locked at chest level.
The battle had raged on for the better part of two hours, and they were finally seeing the last vestiges of battle. All of the n were weary and running out of steam, yet they continued to fight unyieldingly.
stin and Adara had taken care of most of the beasts in the other areas, which lessened the burden on them, but the sheer number of beasts was still too much.
"Hold the walls!" Bramm’s voice bood, a thick, low rumble that easily carried over the wet tearing of flesh and the sound of pigs’ slaughter. "Keep those hatchets flying, Keren! Don’t give them room to look up!"
A pair of lower-tier Iron-Hides—scrawny, pale-eyed things driven mad by the scent of blood—lunged simultaneously through the gap.
Bramm didn’t waste a grand swing. With a short snap of his wrists, Bramm thrust the heavy oak shaft of his Dane axe forward. The iron-shod poml caught the first beast squarely between its eyes, caving the skull inward with a dull thud.
Without halting the montum, he rolled the axe-head over his shoulder, using the broad, crescent blade to catch the second Iron-Hide mid-leap. The heavy steel cut cleanly through its shoulder assembly, shearing at and brittle bone down to the brisket. The creature didn’t even shriek; it simply dropped into the mire, its light-red spark snuffed out instantly.
Bramm grunted, his grey beard flecked with cold crimson spit as he adjusted his grip. They had been fighting for a long ti, and he and the others had sustained nurous injuries. With every movent he made, the bruises and wounds scread at him.
He had even seen two of the n who had supported him at the entrance be torn apart by the rampaging beasts, and the fury inside him had erupted. He only had a few n in his arsenal, and every loss was sothing he didn’t want, his house didn’t need.
As he was moving, from the sides three beasts scrambled over the carcasses of the first waves. Their aura’s running rampant, Bramm didn’t even flinch. The number of true red and light red beasts he had slain today was too much to rember.
The beast in the lead lunged, its elongated, five-inch talons targeted the exposed seams at Bramm’s throat. With a heavy, sluggish movent, he took a step forward, into the range of the strike. His armor took the brunt of the claw swipe across his chest.
It hurt nonetheless.
Cursing Bramm slightly, struck out with his left hand, wrapping like an iron vise around the beast’s forearm. With a heavy and sudden twist of his torso, he hoisted the beast off its feet, utilizing its own montum to swing it horizontally like a club.
The beast’s mass slamd directly into its two pack-mates, sending all three crashing into the muddy timber posts of the inner gatehouse. Before they could untangle their jointed limbs, Bramm brought the broad head of his Dane axe down in a single, massive overhead chop.
The iron blade split the first two ghouls cleanly through their central marrow, the force feedback vibrating satisfyingly up the oaken shaft into his calloused palms.
The third creature tried to scuttle backward into the dark, but a quick, low thrust from Bramm’s broad-bladed seax knife found the soft tissue beneath its jaw, ending the struggle instantly.
He breathed heavily as he hauled the knife free. Exhaustion started to creep in, and his muscles scread for rest. Shoulders slightly slumped, he turned to face the next incoming beast, axe readied for the strike.
The inner area of the encampnt had finally been cleansed of beasts, and all that remained were the ones outside of the gates, being slaughtered by Adara and stin, or slipping through the cracks into the gate entrance.
He stared towards the dark forest, and sure enough, from the dark thickets beyond the gates, past the silhouette of the dead Gore Broc, three massive erged from the pine mist. They moved with a slow, heavy, dominant purpose that caused the surrounding low-rung beasts to actively part ways.
Three Alpha Slate-Hides. Dark Red tier.
These monsters were built like prehistoric oxen, their shoulders rising over seven feet, their entire fras covered in overlapping plates of calcified, grey skin that looked like living river-stone. Their eyes were tiny, yellow beads of pure, stubborn malice.
’Oh for the love of Ocen! Why the hell do these bastards keep coming!’ Despite his body screaming in anguish, he stood unyielding. How many will co is how many will die...
He recited, and with a determined gaze, he stepped two paces forward, completely clearing the safety of the gateposts, standing entirely isolated outside of the gates. He slung his Dane axe low, the iron head resting an inch above the blood-soaked mud, his posture widening as he drew deep from the absolute core of his power. He pushed his body to the limit, and his Vitre flared with everything he had left.
His blood boiled with adrenaline, ’This is gonna be tough.’
The lead Slate-Hide didn’t hesitate. Recognizing the single obstacle in its path, it lowered its massive, stone-plated forehead and initiated a dead-weight charge. It didn’t have the speed of the Gore Broc, but its mass was absolute—thousands of pounds of dense bone and calcified hide moving with the single-minded montum of a hillside collapse.
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