The Clan Wars - Chapter 19

The Clan Wars, Chapter 19 - Drasich


Dayna fidgeted under the chainmail shirt she was wearing, still getting accustomed to the way the borrowed armour sat on her shoulders. She was standing on the northeastern battlements, intently watching a small copse of trees a few hundred yards from the walls. She had scouted out the area after the group had eaten lunch, making sure the roving bands of centaurs circling Drasich’s walls didn’t go too near the secluded clump of oaks, even going so far as to teleport over to get a lay of the land. Once she was sure the location was ideal for an illicit meeting, she had magically spoken with the centaur lass, Cress, telling her to meet there. The filly had been unable to respond, thanks to the one-way nature of the magic the elf was using, and Dayna fervently hoped the message had been received.


She didn’t have to wait long for confirmation - her keen eyes focused on the distinct shape of a centaur trotting over to the copse. To her consternation, however, the demi-human was accompanied by a human figure. She glanced worriedly at Pointer, who was standing by her side. The lean elven thief had joined her on the wall while Bann and Mila remained in her quarters, checking their weapons and armour for the upcoming battle. Gomp, too, was back at the university, completing a few preparations the mage had tasked him with.


I think I should go with you, Pointer wrote on his slate.


“I’ll be fine,” replied Dayna, tightening the purple armband she and the rest of her party had been given, denoting their temporary membership of the city’s militia. “If there’s a problem, I’ll be able to ‘port back here more easily if I’m not bringing an extra body along with me.”


The thief’s brow creased with concern, but he made no further objections.


“Alright, here I go,” said Dayna, concentrating as she opened a shimmering portal beside the pair. She stepped through quickly and the portal snapped shut with a sizzle and the faint smell of ozone.


Back at the university, Mila and Bann had cleared the remnants of lunch from the trestle table that sat in the main room of Dayna’s lodgings. The large, rectangular room was part study, part comfortable living room. Besides the table upon which the human and orc had spread their various weapons and armour, a desk sat against the exterior wall, next to a pair of bay windows that opened onto a small balcony. A few comfortable chairs were arranged in a circle around a thick rug near the window. While the two warriors carefully attended to their gear, checking the straps and buckles of their armour and making sure the edges of their weapons were honed and their bows well-strung, Alagar slumbered peacefully upon the plush carpet.


As the two warriors worked, Mila stole a glance at the young human. He was tightening the grip on the shield he had purchased that morning but the orc could tell by the way he was chewing on his lip as he worked that he was uneasy.


“Nerves?” she asked.


“I’m not scared!” he blurted, jerking his head up.


“I don’t doubt it,” said Mila. “Being a bit anxious before a big fight is healthy. Overconfident fighters tend to get killed.”


“Sorry, yeah,” said Bann, “just anxious - I’ve never been in a fight like the one that’s coming.”


“That makes two of us,” said the greenskin, giving the barbarian a reassuring grin.


“You’ve been in proper battles before, though.”


“I guess that’s true, but nothing on this scale before.”


The two paused momentarily as Gomp entered the room, pulling a small cart behind him. The barrow was piled high with large, heavy stone bricks. Muttering at the indignity of manual labour, the imp proceeded to distribute the bricks in the centre of a number of small, chalk circles with patterned borders that Dayna had drawn on the floor during lunch. Having seen the elf make use of a pine tree with a similarly etched design upon its trunk, both knew the intended purpose of the numerous piles of stones and neither envied any creature on the receiving end of the mage’s instant avalanches - a steel helm would offer scant protection against the piles of masonry her familiar was preparing. Before carting in the bricks, the imp had rolled a large barrel into the room and that too now sat within one of the chalk circles.


With a grunt, the tiny demon dumped the last of the bricks in their predetermined spot on the floor and then dragged the cart out of the room on his way to rejoin his master on the battlements.


“Let us know if things get started before we get down there,” called Mila at the imp as he went out the door.


“Yeah, yeah...” muttered the tiny demon as he stomped out of the room.


“How soon do you think?” asked Bann.


Mila shrugged. “Not before this evening I imagine,” she replied. “Judging by the size of that army, it’ll take some time to assemble into assault battalions and a night attack would limit the casualties our archers and war engines can inflict as they approach the walls.”


A flicker of concern traipsed across the youth’s face. Mila raised her eyebrows in query.


“I’ve got friends out there,” explained Bann.


“And Dayna’s out there making a plan with them right now,” soothed the orc.


“Still…” mumbled Bann before letting out an explosive sigh. “Fuck, this sucks! I hate this waiting!”


Mila nodded sagely. “Yeah, it’s better when you don’t know the fight’s coming - no time to worry. Still, there’s a few tricks to make the waiting easier.”


“Oh really?” said Bann, dropping his shield back onto the table. “I’ll do anything to take my mind off this crap.”


“Well, some like to drink, but I don’t stand by that technique - I find a clear mind is best for a proper fight, unless it’s only a punch-up in a tavern. I’ve also seen some who can sleep before a fight,” continued the orc, casting an envious glance at the slumbering form of her warg, “but damned if I’m able to get some shut-eye before a battle.”


“So what do you do?”


“Honestly? I find a nice hard fuck works best.”


“I’ve heard some of the clan warband leaders don’t like if their warriors… you know... before a battle,” said Bann. “They say it’s best to keep your energy for the fight.”


“Bah!” snorted Mila, unbuckling her belt. “There’s nothing like a good shag to get your blood hot and your mind clear before a brawl. Tumble before you rumble is what I always say.”


Bann watched as the muscular greenskin pulled her shirt over her head and undid the knot on the leather bra that confined her impressive bosom. Despite the lingering after-effects of the spell he had been under, his anxiety over the coming battle had all but smothered his normally irrepressible lust. The sight of Mila’s massive tits, jiggling slightly as she freed them from the restraining embrace of her undergarments, quickly caused his libido to reassert itself.


“So?” grinned the orc, beginning to shimmy out of her leather trousers. “You gonna get out of that kilt and into this pussy?”


The orc’s sly smile was contagious - the young barbarian couldn’t help but return it as he shucked his tartan. His oversized organ was already swelling with desire as he struggled to pull his tunic over his head. Taking advantage of the young fighter’s hapless state, Mila stepped over to him and gave the mammoth member a few perfunctory tugs. Bann’s grin grew into a foolish smile at the amazonian warrior’s touch and he reached out to grope Mila’s hefty, olive-skinned tits once he’d finally managed to remove his shirt.


“Nothing like a fat, juicy, cock to loosen a girl up before a fight,” growled the orc approvingly as she teased Bann’s swollen phallus. “How’re those titties working out for you?”


“Uh, they seem to be doing the trick,” said Bann through his smile, his fingers finding Mila’s hard, dark green nipples. He pinched the prominent, erect nubs between his thumbs and forefingers.


With her free hand, Mila reached behind Bann’s head and roughly mashed his face to her breast. “Go on,” she commanded. “Suck on my titties.”


“Yeth ma’am,” came Bann’s muffled response.


Moving both hands to the hefty boob his face was squished against, the young man sank his fingers into Mila’s ample titflesh. Firmer than an elf’s or a human’s, the orc’s breasts still had a wonderful heft and softness. As he nibbled and sucked on the diamond-hard nipple in his mouth, he marvelled at how the orc’s skin felt thicker than a human’s under his fingers, wondering if that was the reason her melon sized tits seemed to defy gravity, despite their impressive size.


Grunting with pleasure as her breasts were manhandled by the eager youth, Mila leaned back, resting her ass against the edge of the table, and used both hands to shift Bann’s head to her other tit. Presented with a new bounty to explore, Bann dutifully got to work, his schlong pulsing with desire, despite having been released from Mila’s grasp. For her part, the warg-rider let the lad go about his work until her nipples felt tight with arousal and her cunny dripped.


“Alright boy, that’s enough,” growled the cock-hungry greenskin, relinquishing her grip on Bann’s head. “Time to get that dick wet.”


Panting for air, Bann straightened himself while Mila hefted herself up onto the table and spread her legs. Moving with lust-driven purpose, he quickly lined his bloated tool up with the orc’s glistening fuck-hole and pushed himself into her. Slick with her juices and built to take hefty orc cocks, Bann’s heavy slab of fuck-meat slid easily into Mila’s quim. The barbarian moaned in pleasure as he felt the velvety-smooth embrace of the orc’s cunt envelop his achingly hard member.


“Fuck yeah,” sighed Mila, clenching her pussy around the girthy intruder. “That’s the shit.”


Bann could only growl in response and began to pump his hips. Eyes half closed in bliss, Mila leaned back on her elbows and draped her legs over the young warrior’s muscled arms while he got down to the business of mating with her welcoming cunny. Neither was looking for a languid, slow coupling and both were soon panting and grunting as Bann pistoned his gargantuan shaft into Mila’s juicy hole. Each heavy thrust of Bann’s hips produced a wet squelch and a meaty slap as his engorged member squeezed a pungent mix of pre-cum and fuck juice out of the orc’s quim and his thighs smacked against the jiggling cushion of Mila’s asscheeks.


Soon, both warriors were covered with a sheen of sweat and the air around them grew heavy with the musky scent of fevered rutting. Obscene fluids dripped down the crevice of Mila’s butt and Bann’s thighs glistened wetly with the creamy evidence of the orc’s pleasure. Unable to keep herself upright under the frantic pummeling Bann was delivering to her overstimulated cunt, the orc slumped onto her back, grabbing Bann around the neck and pulling him against her. Without breaking pace, Bann lifted his arms over Mila’s legs and pressed himself against her, his sweat-glistened chest squished against her meaty jugs.


“You gonna cum for me?” panted Mila, wrapping her legs around his waist.


The youth didn’t bother replying, simply increasing his desperate rhythm as his balls heaved with an urgent hunger. With his climax swelling within him, Bann viciously pounded the orc’s sloppy cunt until he could hold back the onrushing tide no longer. With a feral bellow that caused Alagar to raise his head from his slumber and blink his eyes owlishly, Bann’s cock exploded.


Mila’s eyes shot open as she felt hot jets of seed surge into her well-fucked cunny. The boy’s tool throbbed powerfully as it hosed scalding hot, sloppy jism into her and the orc grunted in delight as the intense sensation forced another orgasm from her sublimely stuffed twat. Even as he came, however, the youth pried himself out of Mila’s grasp and the greenskin’s pleasure mixed with disappointment as she felt Bann pull his still-spurting shaft from her grasping cock-hole.


“Hey…” the orc began to object, but her words trailed off when she felt Bann’s bloated, cum spurting glans against her sphincter and his intent became clear. She grinned hungrily and reached down to her ass, gripping her asscheeks and spreading them for the young warrior.


His face a grimace of pleasure and concentration, Bann pressed his spasming cum-hose against the wrinkled ring of Mila’s anus, glazing the orifice with his slimy discharge as it spewed from his cum-slit and smearing it around with his angrily swollen cockhead until both her ass and his glans glistened with the obscene, slippery ooze. Once her butthole was properly coated with the sloppy stuff, he slowly pushed his member into her.


Mila’s asshole yielded readily to Bann’s steady intrusion. During her time as a whore in The Ogre’s Drum, many a patron had spent quality time inside the orc’s well-rounded buttocks and she’d learned how to flex her muscles ‘just so’ such that she could take the heftiest of cocks. Thanks to this experience, Mila’s anus clamped hungrily down on Bann’s organ once he’d seated it within her, delectably tight and lubed with a healthy load of jism. Bann groaned in pleasure as his cock slid into the cum-greased hole. Still holding her buttcheeks apart for the well-endowed warrior, Mila bit her bottom lip while her eyes rolled back in pleasure at the exquisite penetration.


“Fuck, that’s good!” growled Bann as his dick came to rest, balls deep in the orc’s ass. He paused, letting both his cock and Mila’s butt adapt to their current, obscene predicament. Beneath him, Mila panted with lust.


“I’m gonna start moving, ok?” said the youth.


“Do it!” snarled Mila through clenched teeth. “Fuck my ass!”


Both warriors breathed heavily as Bann began to gently buck his hips, sliding his mammoth dong a short ways out of Mila’s butt before shunting it back into her. With each pump, he pulled his tool a little further out of the vice-like grip of the muscled orc’s sphincter, steadily increasing his pace until the two were rhythmically humping like the fuck-drunk beasts they were. Bann watched as Mila’s pussy flexed sympathetically, oozing cum, while his thick shaft slid in and out of her ass. Her large clit protruded hungrily from its hood and the lad reached down to place his hand against the sweat-slick, green skin of Mila’s mons so that his thumb rested on her engorged pleasure button. With small, circular motions, he massaged the aroused organ, eliciting surprisingly gentle moans from the thoroughly stuffed orc.


The combined sensations of Bann’s bloated cock plundering her ass while he toyed with her desperately aroused clit was obscenely exquisite and Mila came fast and hard. Fem-cum splurged uncontrollably from her cunt, splashing against Bann’s well-defined abs, while her muscles tensed and her skin beaded with sweat. Even as she came down from the divine experience, her body shuddered with aftershocks of pleasure.


“Fuck-uh-ing hells, boy!” she groaned. Sweat trickled down her cleavage.


Bann grinned back at her.


“Pull that oversized piece of meat outta my ass for a moment,” said Mila. “I gotta get some fresh air.”


Relishing the exquisite, silken sensation of Mila’s asshole sliding along his slick cock, Bann slowly drew his tool from the greenskin’s anus. Once the lad had withdrawn fully, Mila got to her feet and led the young warrior past the napping form of her warg and over to the large bay windows. A cool breeze brushed across the sweaty pair’s skin as she opened them.


“Ahhh, that’s better,” remarked the orc, bending over the wrought iron railing of the small balcony and presenting her ass to Bann. She wiggled her butt. “Alright, back to it, boy, and be quick about it - we should be getting down to the walls.”


Bann lined his throbbing erection up with the orc’s glistening, cum-lubed asshole. “I’ll do my best,” he said through clenched teeth as he pushed his swollen organ back into the hole it had so recently been seated in. He groaned in pleasure as Mila’s slick, experienced anus easily received his girthy member. “Damn, that’s good…”


“Fucking right it is,” growled Mila, clenching her arse around the weighty intruder.


The view from Dayna’s balcony was impressive. Below them, a few university apprentices, led by the beholder Trelisopoles, were erecting a barricade of desks and other furniture at the entrance to the college. Beyond, guards could be seen taking up positions on the walls and rooftops. However, neither of the frantically rutting pair paid the expansive panorama any heed. With his shaft ensconced within his orcish comrade’s incredible asshole, Bann could only think of pounding it as fast and hard as he could while, on the receiving end of a vigorous assfucking, Mila gripped the railing tightly with one hand and frantically massaged her clit with the other. Well greased with cum and practiced in the act of sodomy, the orc’s ass slid smoothly along the barbarian’s tumescent dick as he pumped his hips, each heavy thrust causing her olive-skinned buttcheeks to ripple and her heavy tits to bounce.


Mila’s orgasm came quickly, roiling up from her thoroughly stuffed ass and tingling across her sweaty skin until it danced across her scalp. As she revelled in the sublime sensation, she clenched her asshole rhythmically around the bloated slab of fuckmeat inside her, seeking to milk the hot jism from it. Despite having so recently deposited a load of his seed in her twat, Bann couldn’t resist Mila’s professional anal dick-milking. With a bellow that caused a few of the acolytes far below them to look up, startled, he bent over the greenskin and proceeded to fill her bowels with his spunk. Hands unconsciously grabbing her hefty mammaries, hips jerking spasmodically, the pleasure-wracked youth moaned and grunted while his overstimulated cock went about the task of pouring jizz into the orc’s anal passage until it spurted obscenely from where her sphincter was stretched around his throbbing organ.


With Bann slumped over her back, Mila leaned, panting, against the balcony railing, gently flexing her ass as she drew out the final drops of ejaculate from the twitching dick still plugging her ass. As much as she was curious to see if she could get him up for another round, however, she knew the two of them had to go meet up with the others, so she slowly pushed herself upright. Feeling her move beneath him, Bann eased his deflating phallus from the orc’s sperm dripping butt.


“Come on, lad. Help me get my armour on,” said Mila as Bann stepped back from her. She could feel the boy’s seed oozing from her gaping asshole to trickle down the inside of her thighs.


“Should I see about getting some water to bathe?” asked Bann as the pair went back indoors.


“Nah, no time,” shrugged Mila and then flashed a grin at the northman. “Besides, a bath would probably just turn into another fuck session.”


Bann smiled back. “Sounds better than getting trampled by that army out there.”


Mila could still feel Bann’s cum oozing from her asshole and squishing between her buttcheeks by the time the two were climbing up the steps to the battlements where Pointer, Mila and Gomp stood. Dayna was leaning against the parapet, looking a little tired, and the orc raised her eyebrows in query as she approached.


“How’d it go?”


“Not as well as I’d hoped. I met with Cress and a friend of yours called Hedda,” replied Dayna, looking over at Bann as she mentioned the blonde spearmaiden. “They’d done a little surreptitious scouting before the meet and they came to the conclusion that Kalliya and Gaermeon have most of the prominent warhost commanders under their sway. They also said the attack is definitely going in after sundown.”


“Shit,” grumbled Bann.


“That isn’t good,” said Mila.


“No, it isn’t. Still, Hedda and Cress said they’d rounded up a few folks who could be trusted - they said you’d know who, Bann. I told them that we’d be at the sixth tower to the west of the northern gatehouse, near the university, and that they should meet us there as soon as they could once the fighting started,” explained the elven mage.


“That’ll be the minotaur Freida and Hedda’s shieldbearer, Jon,” said Bann.


“It’s all well and good that you know them, but how will the rest of us recognize them amidst a horde of northerners?” said Mila.


“We thought of that,” continued Dayna. “They’ll be wearing white armbands.”


“Oh. Good thinking,” said the orc, looking out at the host gathered on the field before the walls. “Still don’t know how they plan on getting in here, though. I don’t even see any scaling ladders.”


“Did Hedda and Cress mention anything?” asked Bann.


“No - when I asked them, all they could say was that the warhost leaders mentioned a secret weapon,” was Dayna’s worried response. “I wonder if Gaermeon has some way of using the orb…”


“What, they’re all going to teleport in here?” groaned Mila. “Might as well fucking leave now, in that case - there’s no way we can stop that.”


“I don’t think so,” said Dayna. “That would take a phenomenal amount of energy and I think she’ll want to conserve as much as possible for whatever she has planned once she gets the stone to the tower. Still, I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s going to be willing to burn some of that reserve to get to the tower.”


As the afternoon turned into evening, the small group walked over to the battlements near the university. The city’s defenders were organized around the northern gatehouse, the battlements near it and the thoroughfares leading away from it. Passing under the shadow of a large bastion, known as the north keep, located a few hundred yards down the main road from the gatehouse, Dayna could just make out a sprinkling of university mages among the soldiery on the walls. A few more mages, some of whom she recognized, were among the reserve forces forming up outside the north keep.


“They may be outnumbered, but these city guard types seem to have set up a good defence,” commented Mila as they passed another group of spearmen barricading a sidestreet. “Even if the host somehow gets through the gates, it’s going to turn into a real mess in here.”


“How is that a good thing?” said Dayna.


“A street fight’s going to favour the defenders,” said the mercenary, watching a group of guards use a rope to lift a barrel filled with arrows up to the flat roof of a tavern. “They’re going to have to clear out every house from here to the keep as they go, and the war engines on that fort are going to be raining shit down on them every step of the way.”


By the time the party reached the tower near the university, the sun was sinking below the western walls. Rising a good fifteen feet above the twenty foot stone wall it stood upon, the turret was a solidly built, square structure. A door at street level led into a small guardroom and a set of stairs that led up to an armoury and the wall walkway. From there, another set of steps wound their way up to the open top of the tower, where soldiers were protected by tall crenellations. Arrow slits in the parapet and a large ballista enabled defenders in the tower to shoot down at any attackers. The position housed ten city watch, led by a sergeant, all well armed with chainmail, swords, and bows or spears and shields.


“Who are you?” growled the sergeant upon opening the solid oak door at Dayna’s knocking.


“I’m with the university - these are a few mercs we’ve hired,” she lied in response, flashing her university signet. “Thought we might keep an eye on things from here and help out if things got rough.”


With his kilt concealed by his gambeson and mail hauberk, Bann no longer looked too similar to the leather clad, kilt wearing northern barbarians the city watch were facing and he seemed less fazed by the fact that Mila was an orc than the gate guard had been - in fact, there were two other orcs among the guards manning the tower. Their purple armbands further soothed his concerns. With a shrug, the sergeant stood aside to let the party in.


“Sure,” he grunted, “the more, the merrier. Just stay out of our way when the shit hits the wagon wheel. Oh, and keep the wolf down here. It’ll be crowded enough up top without a bloody great dog in the mix.”


“Sure thing,” said Mila, giving Alagar a scratch behind the ears.


Leaving her poleaxe strapped to the warg’s saddle, the orc slung her shield across her back and, with her crossbow in hand, followed Dayna up the stairs. The top of the tower provided an excellent view of the fields outside the wall and the evenly spaced towers, similar to their own, that lined Drasich’s walls. Atop each small fortification, Dayna could see small knots of soldiers bustling around the bulk of a war engine - a catapult or ballista - while, on the walls between each tower, more soldiers readied their weapons. There were not many guards on the walls adjacent to the tower she was in -  most were lining the parapets facing the warhost and only a few sentries patrolled nearby.


“Thought you mages were all in the gatehouse or the north keep,” said the grizzled sergeant.


“Most are,” agreed Dayna. “There’s a few of us keeping an eye on the university though.”


“Fair enough. Hope you’ve got some handy magic if things go pear shaped here,” he said, giving her a nod and wandering off to check on his ballista crew.


As the gloom of dusk crept over the tower, the guards lit a large brazier that perched atop one of the small covered entrance to the stairs. Almost simultaneously, the sound of warhorns drifted up into the darkening sky above the warhost. Bann walked over to stand beside Dayna.


“This is it,” he said, his voice a low whisper. There was a roar from the army gathered on the fields, followed by a deafening crash as thousands of weapons were thumped against thousands of shields.


“Remember,” said Mila, joining them, “we’re not trying to hold this position at all costs - we find Bann’s friends and then fall back to the university.”


“We can’t let Gaermeon reach the tower,” agreed Dayna.


Beside her, Gomp scrambled up to stand on the parapet in the embrasure between two merlons. The imp had somehow gotten his hands on a vicious spiked mace and peered menacingly at the army facing them.


“Can’t wait to test this thing out,” cackled the tiny demon, hefting his cruel weapon.


Dayna’s weary sight at her familiar’s bellicose words was drowned out by the sound of warhorns and the terrible crash of weapons on shields. Pointer drew an arrow from his quiver and absentmindedly twirled it through his fingers. They watched as the warhost took a few rumbling steps forward and then stopped.


“No war engines, not even a fucking ram,” murmured Mila. “What are they playing at?”


Any chance of a reply was cut off when the horns called out once more, but instead of being followed by the terrible crash, the sound was followed by the roar of ten thousand soldiers. Dark shapes suddenly lifted up from the shadowy mass of armed figures as hundreds of harpies took to the air. The guards on the walls lifted their bows and drew bowstrings to their cheeks. Beside them, the ballista crew rolled their weapon forward to a specially cut embrasure and winched back the heavy arms of the weapon. The sergeant barked orders. Another call echoed out from further down the battlements.


And then the harpies attacked. All along the walls, commands to fire rang out and archers let loose into the mob of avian demi-humans that swooped above them. From their position of relative safety, the group watched the archery duel begin. It was too dark to see the arrows, but there was no mistaking the shouts and screams of pain as guards were wounded by the flying creature’s arrows. Dayna saw a pair of the winged women dive down to knock a soldier off the wall to plummet screaming towards the street below, while high above the fortification another winged form twisted and tumbled in a death spiral towards the ground, pierced by the defender’s return fire.


Beside the mage, Bann thought of the first harpy he’d met, just over a year ago. She was a friendly, beautiful woman who had cheerily tumbled with the young warrior when her clan had visited his village to trade. He wondered if she was out there now, above the walls of Drasich. He looked away, a sick feeling growing in his stomach.


As the airborne warriors harried the defenders on the walls, the main body of the warhost advanced. Their front rank was composed of towering trolls and minotaurs, each holding a massive pavisse. Behind them, assault battalions of goblins, orcs and barbarians sheltered from the withering hail of projectiles arcing out from the city’s fortifications. Despite the harassing fire they were receiving from the harpy warriors, a few ballista and catapult crews managed loose their ordnance at the onrushing horde. The devastation the heavy weapons caused was awe inspiring; here, a ballista bolt smashed through a troll’s pavisse, bowling the hulking creature over, there, a jar of flaming pitch launched from a catapult broke apart in the air, splattering the soldiers below with a rain of burning, sticky terror.


“This is madness,” mumbled the sergeant as he watched the carnage. “They’ve no way of getting over or through the walls - no ram, no ladders, no breach to assault…”


His words trailed off as his face was illuminated by a white light. In the midst of the attacking army, two figures could be seen, gripping a brightly glowing orb, moving quickly to the fore. The light emanating from the object was searingly bright. Suddenly, as the pair reached the front ranks, a beam shot out from the ball, connecting it to the gates.


“Shiiit,” groaned Dayna.


The archers on the walls stopped shooting. Even the harpies they had been dueling paused their onslaught and hovered in the air, staring at the blazing lance of light. The advancing horde halted. An eerie stillness hung in the air, accompanied by an unsettling silence. Dayna’s skin tingled as she felt waves of magical power wash over her. Magically unattuned as they were, even her comrades could feel the air about them thicken with energy. Every member of the mass of soldiery clustered on and around the walls of Drasich felt their skin prickle and tasted a sharp, metallic flavour on their tongues.


Then, the gatehouse exploded.


The world shook. Massive chunks of masonry flew into the air. Like dolls cast about by a raging child, bodies were thrown skyward. Time stood still while, in terrible silence, a gaping breach was torn in the city’s defences. Only after an age had passed within the confines of a second did reality catch up with the catastrophic and a wall of noise crashed into the party’s ears. They stumbled back from the battlements, reeling under the assault.


The warhost poured into the city. The magical blast had levelled buildings for a good hundred yards in a line beyond the gates, reaching almost all the way to the north keep. Those few guards who had miraculously survived the devastation staggered out of the wreckage only to be cut down as triumphant northerners and mountain folk rampaged into the shattered ruins.


Dayna felt Mila’s hand on her arm. The orc tugged her to her feet, her mouth open, yelling something, but the mage’s ears refused to function. She groped about, blearily helping the others to stand. At the tough greenskin’s urging, the dazed party tumbled down the steps into the tower’s guardroom.


“... the fuck was that shit!” snarled the orc as Dayna’s hearing came back to her. “How do we fight that bullshit magic fuckery!?”


Dayna leaned her back against the nearby wall, shaking her head groggily. Pointer pinched his brow, his eyes squeezed shut, while Bann was doubled over, hands on his knees, breathing heavily. Even Alagar was whining softly and shaking his head, his sensitive hearing battered by the fury of the explosion. Guards from the tower were staggering down the steps behind them, all looking the worse for wear, but for the two orcs who were less affected by the punishing shockwave thanks, similarly to Mila, to their robust physique.


With her comrades struggling to regain their composure, Mila fastened her crossbow to her warg’s saddle and retrieved her poleaxe before unbarring the turret’s wooden door. A soldier in the the city’s livery stumbled past her, cradling her arm. Beyond the wounded soldier, along the road that ran parallel to the wall, the orc could see a vicious melee. The wounded guard started momentarily at Mila’s sudden appearance before noting the purple armband she wore.


“Run!” shouted the guard, her voice shrill with panic. “The wall has fallen! We can’t stop them!”


“Out of my way,” growled Mila, pushing past the fleeing soldier and stepping out onto the street.


She could see the troops down the curtain road were retreating towards her, fighting a rearguard action. A few arrows arced down into the melee from the wall high to her left - apparently some of the archers upon it were lending what aid they could to their hard-pressed allies. Despite the covering fire from the wall, the rearguard was was only tenuously maintaining cohesion and the experienced mercenary knew they were on the brink of collapse.


“Get your shit together!” she barked through the open door to the guardroom. “We’re about to have company!”


Alagar and Pointer immediately, although painfully, made their way out the door, with Bann, the sergeant and a few guards behind them. The remaining guards ran up the stairs to man their ballista and provide covering fire with their bows. Dayna was the last out onto the street, her senses still reeling from the overwhelming magical blast she had just witnessed.


Holding their shields before them and bracing their spears, the guards formed a defensive line under their sergeant’s terse commands. Bann, Mila and Alagar formed up beside them while Pointer kicked open the door to a house across the street and ran inside. The small unit had barely gotten in position when their comrades further down the street broke and began running back towards them, pursued by a cheering band of goblins.


“Back five paces!” bellowed the sergeant, seeking to prevent his line from getting swamped by his own retreating comrades by opening up an avenue of escape through the door into the guard house.


As the first of the fleeing soldiers reached his shieldwall, the grizzled officer directed them to run into the tower while his troops braced for impact. The goblins were right on the heels of the retreating guards and a few of the tailing troops were overrun as their comrades piled into the safety of the tower. Then, the fight was upon them.


Predominantly armed with pikes, the goblins used the long reach of their weapons to great advantage, thrusting at the shieldwall as they advanced while remaining out of reach of the guards’ shorter spears. Bann alternated between parrying the goblins’ thrusts and swatting at the greenskins’ long weapons with his axe while Mila wove a defensive pattern with her poleaxe, both falling back in step with the guards at their side. The orc’s weapon was perfect for breaking pike formations - its axehead could hook and sweep the opposing longspears aside to create openings - but behind the first few ranks of goblins another rank lay in wait, all armed with short swords, maces and axes, poised to use their melee weapons to crush any attempt to break their pike-wielding comrades’ formation. It would take a concerted, organized assault to crack the unit of goblins. As her brow beaded with sweat under the strain of maintaining her defensive stance, the warg-rider wished she had a few other poleaxe armed soldiers beside her.


Suddenly, the goblin before her collapsed as a large brick smashed into his head. Beside the small greenskin, two more of his comrades tumbled to the ground, felled by an arcane rain of masonry. The goblins in the rear ranks moved to plug the gap Dayna’s shower of stonework had opened, but the effort faltered as a stream of arrows scythed into the reinforcing warriors. Pointer had smashed open a second storey window and was leaning out it, his hands flickering as he poured arrows into the melee. Seeing her chance and hoping her comrades would follow her example, Mila leapt forward, sweeping her poleaxe left to right and smashing another pike-armed goblin to the ground.


Bann roared and charged as soon as he saw Mila leap, knocking the pike before him aside with his shield and barrelling into the goblin holding it. The small warrior tumbled backwards, plowing into the rank behind him. Both went down in a tangle of limbs and pike-hafts. Unfortunately, the falling goblins turned out to be just as hazardous for the charging northman - his foot caught on one of their legs and the young warrior found himself sprawling atop the writhing greenskins. Without pause, he smashed his head down, cracking his helmeted brow into the snarling mouth of the foe beneath him. The goblin to his right dropped his pike and, with a vicious shout, reached for a long dagger, seeking to finish off the prone barbarian.


Mila saw Bann fall, but was prevented from aiding him, embroiled as she was in her own battle against two goblins armed with hand weapons and shields. Tusks bared in a grimace of fury, she lashed out with a heel kick, pounding her armoured boot into the chest of one attacker while lashing out at the other with the butt of her polearm. Beside her, Bann rolled sideways, trying to cover himself with his shield, but in the mess of goblins he found himself unable to move the wooden disc.


The knife-wielding goblin above him grinned victoriously and thrust downwards, only to abruptly disappear from sight, replaced with a mass of snarling fur and muscle. Alagar plowed into the brawl like a runaway wagon. Teeth locked around the leather helmeted head of Bann’s attacker, the warg bit down with bone shattering force and shook his head back and forth, smashing the dying goblin’s flailing body into the rear ranks of the pike formation.


Pinned on the ground, with one goblin holding his axe hand and the other kneeling on his shield, Bann felt a flutter of panic in his chest. He screamed in rage, heaving his pinioned arms as he watched the goblin standing on his shield fumble for a dagger with one hand while holding down Bann’s arm with the other. Then, just as the fear and frustration was about to overwhelm him, something clicked inside his head and an icy sensation of furious calm swelled within his chest.


Bann let go of his axe. With his hand no longer tied down in a vain attempt to free the weapon from the goblin holding it, the barbarian balled his fist and drove it into the face of the goblin kneeling on his shield. The leather gauntlet he was wearing had metal rivets across the knuckles. His arm was powered by surging fury. The goblin’s face collapsed beneath his fist.


The guards surged forwards in the wake of Mila’s assault. The goblins dropped their pikes and the battle devolved into an ugly brawl. Daggers, fists, feet and teeth - anything that could be used as a weapon was applied with appalling ferocity. Using her poleaxe like a quarterstaff, Mila lashed about, sending goblins reeling, bodies rent by the cruel blade on one end of the weapon, limbs broken by the steel-shod butt. Her blood sang and a ravenous grin creased her face as she set about destroying any and all enemies who came within reach of her terrible battle-lust.


The goblins fought hard, but no longer with the assurance of victory - now they fought for survival. Arrows lanced down into their numbers as Pointer cooly thinned their ranks with a withering hail of well-placed shots. There was a sizzling crackle from behind them and suddenly Gomp materialized, hooting maniacally as he swung his mace. Bann, both arms now free, clambered to his knees, ignoring the crunch of his own axe, now held by a goblin, upon his chainmail protected shoulder. The goblin wielding his weapon wound up for another swing only to get bowled over as the northman dropped his shield and threw himself at the greenskin. Nearby, Alagar bounded forward, knocking aside the few foes who stood before him, and raced away from the fight, only to turn quickly once he had gained enough distance, muscles bunching as he prepared to charge once more.


With the armoured tower of fury that was Mila wading through their ranks, distributing unadulterated violence, a crazed barbarian beating their comrades to death with his bare hands, a warg and a jubilant demon tearing into them from behind, an elven sniper casually pouring arrows into them and a coterie of guards angrily seeking vengeance in their midst, the goblins could not hold. Their fellows at the back of the formation were the first to run and soon all those that still had the use of their legs were fleeing down the street. The weary band from the tower didn’t bother chasing.


Bann picked himself up, his shoulder throbbing with pain. Around him, dying and grievously wounded goblins moaned in pain. Amongst the brown and green mass of goblin casualties lay a few purple clad bodies - the sergeant and his few remaining troopers struggled to help those of their comrades who weren’t dead to their feet.


“We need to fall back,” said the sergeant quietly, his arm around one of his wounded troopers.


Dayna moved up to stand beside Mila. She peered anxiously down the street. Either because of the magical explosion that had destroyed the gatehouse, or by the hands of the marauding northern army, burning buildings lit up the smoke laden sky with a ruddy orange glow. In the gloom, flickers of distant movement could be seen as unidentifiable soldiers moved across the thoroughfare. By the way they all seemed to be moving into the city, the mage could only assume they were troops of the warhost.


“Get to the university - there may be some defenders holding out,” she murmured.


The sergeant grunted in the affirmative and began leading his battered unit westwards towards the university. After a few steps, he paused to look back at the weary party. Pointer had exited the house he had been shooting from and was retrieving what arrows he could from the site of the battle. Nearby, Mila was examining the collection of small wounds Alagar had received while Bann rearmed himself. Beyond them, Dayna, with Gomp by her side, looked down the road towards the shattered gatehouse.


“You coming?” asked the Drasichii officer.


“We’ll be right behind you,” assured Mila, looking up from a patiently waiting Alagar.


Once they had rearmed, the party assumed a defensive position around the door into the tower. Pointer took a lookout position on the wall while the others stood outside by the door. The sounds of battle drifted through the night air and the group waited anxiously, peering into the gloom. The six unconsciously tensed when they saw a group of soldiers moving down the street towards them.


“Cress?” called Bann as he noted the familiar centaur at the head of the group.


“Bann!” came the exuberant filly’s shout. The girl had her longbow in hand, an arrow knocked, her lance strapped to her back. Behind her, the minotaur cow, Frieda, loomed large, her two-handed sword resting on her shoulder, while Jon and Hedda flanked the small party. Bann’s cheeks ached as he grinned with relief at the sight of his friends.


“Troll’s teeth it’s good to see you guys,” he sighed, receiving a fierce bearhug from Hedda.


“Was worried we lost you, mate,” grinned Jon, pounding his clan-brother on the back. “Never seen anything like that explosion before!”


“Speaking of which,” said Dayna, interrupting the reunion, “we should get to the university as fast as possible.”


“Agreed,” said Hedda, solemnly.


“Vat is ze best vay to ze university?” asked Frieda.


“Well,” began Dayna, “we could cut through the Maker’s District-”


“We should stick to the walls, if possible,” interrupted Mila. “Most of the army seems to be heading deeper into the city.”


“Yeah, orders were to get to the palace at the centre of the city,” agreed Hedda. “Command seemed to think that’s where the defenders would fall back to.”

“It’ll take a bit longer,” said the elven mage, “but if we follow the curtain road, we’ll come out at the north end of the university plaza.”


“Good. It’ll be a longer walk, but running into troops of either side, at this point,” grunted the orc, climbing into Alagar’s saddle and looking over the motley group, “would probably result in too many questions or a fight we’ll want to avoid.”


With Cress and Mila, mounted on Alagar, taking the lead and Frieda and Pointer acting as a rearguard, the disparate party cautiously moved down the road that ran along the inside of Drasich’s walls. Where the road rose up a small hill, they were provided with a chance to peer back at the north keep and down into the city towards the palace. The firey arcs of burning catapult shot lancing out from both of the fortified positions spoke of the ferocious battles taking place around them. The fighting was not confined to those two locations, however, and the wary group could hear the ring of weapons clashing and see darting and brawling figures down many of the side-streets and alleys they passed.


The whole group proceeded in silence, listening to the background din of a city in war. Bann walked beside Hedda and Jon. Despite the quiet, he felt less anxious now that he had been reunited with his clanmates. He flashed his friends a small smile as they paused while Mila and Cress scouted out the next major bend in the road. Jon grinned back.


Abruptly, the ground beneath their feet lurched. There was no sound accompanying the disconcerting movement, but even Frieda stumbled to regain her balance, despite her broad, heavy hooves and stalwart stance. The air, heavy with drifting smoke, seemed to grow thicker and took on a surreal slant - the party members blinked and shook their heads as the shapes of their comrades and the buildings around them took on an indescribable, somehow skewed appearance.


“What’s going on?” hissed Cress as she and Mila trotted back to rejoin the group.


“I don’t know,” mumbled Dayna, rubbing her eyes. The hair on the back of her neck prickled. “It’s magic of some sort, but I can’t tell what.”


“We should get a move on, then,” growled the orc. “Come on, the road ahead looks clear.”


A ‘boom’ echoed out from somewhere deeper in the city as the party resumed their progress towards the university, travelling with a quickened pace. All were uneasy - the houses and buildings they passed seemed suffused with a faint purple glow that disappeared upon trying to focus upon it. The sounds of fighting seemed somehow louder, but they encountered no foes until, less than a block away from the university, they stumbled upon the site of a massacre.


Dead warriors littered the street - a whole unit of orcs in armour and hulking minotaurs had been foully dismembered. The chainmail armour the greenskins were wearing had been torn apart; stray links clinked underfoot. The minotaurs were in no better shape. Chunks of gore were splattered on the walls and lay on the cobbles, blood pooling around them.


“Ancestors!” gasped Hedda. “What happened here?”


“Vere zey fighting each other?” rumbled Frieda, checking the minotaurs to see if they were of her herd. “I see no city guard among zeir number.”


“I don’t think any soldier did this,” said Jon, his voice a hoarse whisper as he examined a pile of dead, dismembered orcs.


“Demons,” said Dayna.


Her comrades turned to look at her. The mage was standing in the middle of the street. The blood had drained from her face.


“I know what’s happening,” explained the mage in a quiet voice filled with dread. “Gaermeon’s reached the tower.”


“What?” said Mila.


“She’s reached the omnigarch chamber!” shouted Dayna, already running past the startled warg-rider. “The strange glow! The way the ground shook! She’s doing a planar merger!”


The rest of the group raced to catch up with the running mage


“What’s that?” shouted Mila as Alagar bounded along side the sprinting elf.


“She’s using the tower and stone to create a permanent bridge between here and part of the outer realms! The tower, the whole area will act as a tether!”


Urgency lent haste to their feet and the party ran on towards the university plaza. As they approached the area where the college of the arcane abutted the city walls, the sounds of battle grew louder. With dread gnawing at their stomachs, the group rounded the final bend in the curtain road and were greeted with a scene of desperate violence. The plaza was a mass of struggling figures. Guards and warhost soldiers alike were embroiled in a horrific struggle against all manner of demonic entities - here, two orcs and a city watch officer struggled against a naga wielding four whirling blades in her two pairs of arms, there, a barbarian and an elven guard fought back to back against a pack of snapping hellhounds.


Beyond the melee rose the broad steps leading to the university’s main entrance. The doors themselves had been blasted asunder, the makeshift barricades tossed aside. In front of them stood the towering, grey skinned form of a grigori. The statuesque monstrosity was armed with a ten foot staff, almost as long as the demon was tall and seemingly composed of pure energy, but was not playing much part in the ferocious struggle unfolding in the square before the gates. As the party observed the battle in despair, the grey behemoth moved suddenly to lash out with his weapon at a group of hard pressed guards whose retreat forced them too close to the entrance he was protecting. The weapon swept two of the purple clad fighters into the air, throwing them violently against the side of the university building.


There was no more time to absorb the horror before them - a mob of beastmen, noting the arrival of fresh meat, turned to face the newcomers and, with a braying roar, charged.


Alagar surged forward, snarling hungrily. The goat-man demons were armed with gleaming axes, but the warg paid them no heed, pouncing with awesome speed into their midst and pinning two of the bestial creatures to the ground. Upon his back, Mila layed about with her poleaxe, swinging the weapon in broad arcs on either side of her warg and sending the shaggy-furred demons reeling. Each blow she delivered caused a cascade of bright sparks to spray from her target’s hide, despite their apparent lack of armour - the magical shielding Dayna had mentioned reacting to her attacks, thought the orc. Despite their arcane protection, however, Mila’s blows were heavy and delivered with such force that soon a few of the brutes were prone around her.


“We have to help her!” shouted Bann, racing into the fray. Pointer was already shooting. Arrows whistled over the young barbarian’s shoulder as he charged.


The rest of the party was only steps behind him. With her two handed sword held aloft, Frieda leapt just as she reached the melee, bringing the hefty weapon down in a terrible blow that split the head of the demon that turned to face her. Beside the minotaur, Bann tucked his shoulder behind his shield and barrelled into another of the braying beasts, bowling the creature over and using its stunned body as a launching point as he lunged at the demon behind it. Hedda was right behind her clan-brother and paused momentarily to plunge her spear into the creature Bann had knocked down while Jon protected her flank, taking one of the demons’ vicious retaliatory attacks on his shield before whipping his sword at the beast’s snarling face. Cress followed in Frieda’s wake, thrusting her pike into the side of a beastman attempting to attack the minotaur from behind.


Finally, there was Pointer. The rogue calmly advanced in the path his comrades were cutting, his arms working rhythmically, mechanically, as he deposited arrows into any attackers attempting to close the breach his allies were hewing through the beastman mob. Dayna walked beside the lean elf, gathering her will. As a howling demon tried to clamber to its feet behind her, she turned and, almost gently, prodded it with her staff. The hairy creature suddenly found itself thirty feet in the air. It plummeted to the ground, snarling in panic, to land with a very heavy and final thud. Beside her, Gomp was cackling maniacally and gleefully bludgeoning any of the mauled demons that attempted to move as the party advanced past them.


“These don’t seem so tough,” panted Mila. The group had managed to down enough of the gibbering demonic foot soldiers to catch their breath.


“They’re beastmen - about as low on the demonic food chain as you’ll find, barring imps, perhaps,” responded Dayna. Gomp shot her a foul look. “Besides,” she continued, pointing at one of the corpses they had so recently created. The bloodied body faded into nothing as the group looked on. “See? They’ll be back soon - you can’t really kill them if they’re tethered.”


“Zen we must fight through to ze university,” stated Frieda.


“That bastard looks like he’ll give us a bit more trouble,” said Jon, nodding in the direction of the grigori protecting the entrance to the college.


“Agreed,” said Hedda while she delivered a firm stab to a growling, wounded beastman at her feet.


Jon turned to look up at a tower on the wall they were standing beside. With a grim smile, he started jogging towards the oaken door at the foot of the fortification.


“You guys go on ahead - I think I’ll be able to lend you a hand from here when you get to the big bastard,” shouted the departing northman over his shoulder.


Mila shook her head wearily and dismounted Alagar. “No rest for the wicked, eh?” she growled, readying her poleaxe and advancing towards the looming university.


By the time the hardy group had fought their way through to the foot of the steps leading to the university’s shattered doors, they all bore wounds, albeit minor ones, for their efforts. Even Dayna had only narrowly avoided a slash delivered by a whirling naga - her borrowed helmet had cushioned the blow, but her ears were ringing and blood trickled down the side of her face were the deflected sword blow had slid as the naga had drawn it back. Pointer had only just managed to drop his bow and draw his sword to parry the four-armed demon’s follow-up attack after the mage had stumbled backwards and he had an ugly cut along his arm to show for it. It had taken all of the thief’s considerable skill at swordsmanship to buy Dayna enough time to teleport Gomp on to the naga’s back. The little imp had then cheerfully set about smashing his spiked mace into the snake-like creature’s head as he clung to the thrashing demon’s back.


Every member of the party had experienced similar close calls - Mila’s poleaxe lay broken on the battlefield behind them, haft cloven in two by the jaws of a massive hellhound. Alagar’s flanks were scored deeply by the demonic canine’s claws, wounds gained when he had come to his partner’s rescue and crushed the demon’s jugular in his jaws. Hedda, too, had lost her primary weapon. The longspear she used had become too deeply embedded in the thick hide of another hellhound and she’d released the weapon to draw her sword when a beastman had borne down upon her. The creature’s axe had sliced her leather jerkin open on her left side and blood now seeped through the torn gambeson she wore beneath it.


Frieda, too, was dripping blood, but from a score of cuts on her arms and legs. A gang of imps had swarmed the huge warrior as she had led the way through the melee, their short swords, daggers and knives biting into her even as she had wrenched the hooting creatures off her limbs and crushed them beneath her hooves. Cress had come to the minotaur’s aid, just in time to yank one of Gomp’s kindred from the cow’s back before it could plunge a dagger into her neck. The filly carried her own injuries from her rescue attempt - a long gash ran down her flank from where a flailing imp had slashed her.


Now they stood before the grigori. Towering even above Frieda’s seven foot frame, the blank faced demon radiated unsettling menace. As Mila readied her sword and Dayna tapped into her reserves of energy, Pointer and Bann came to stand beside them. Behind them, Alagar, Frieda, Cress and Hedda fended off the few demons that tried to rush their position on the steps.


“You gonna get the fuck out of our way?” growled the orc.


The grigori simply gazed impassively at the small, armoured figure before him.


“Didn’t think so,” sighed Mila. “Still, was worth a try.”


With her friends at her side, Mila advanced up the steps. The grigori raised his shining staff.


A giant ballista bolt suddenly smashed into its chest.


The huge demon dropped to its hands and knees, silvery ichor oozing from around the massive quarrel lodged in its chest. Mila was upon him in a flash, bounding up the broad steps to deliver a ferocious two handed blow with her longsword to the incapacitated behemoth’s neck. The stroke was not enough to decapitate the monster, but it was enough to kill. With its neck cut halfway through, the grey demon collapsed onto the top step and a river of shimmering grey blood spouted from its wound and splashed down the stairs.


The party turned and looked back at the tower from whence the bolt had been fired. Jon was standing on the parapet, arms upraised, his mouth open in a joyful shout. They could just make out his cheering over the din of the ongoing battle.


Then, Jon’s expression seemed to grow confused. He stumbled forward, hanging over the wall at a precipitous angle before tumbling with horrific slowness over the edge. The beastman that had materialised behind him pulled his axe from the barbarian’s back and peered over the parapet at the young man’s broken body on the ground below.


Bann felt a terrible shiver ripple up his neck and down his arms. His legs felt weak. On the steps below him, Hedda dropped to her knees, her sword clanging against the stone. Before her, men and women were fighting and dying in obscene violence, but she only had eyes for the young man who had just breathed his last upon that Drasichii tower. A snarling hellhound bounded up the stairs towards her, intent on finishing the despairing spearmaiden, but, like an automaton powered only by rage, the woman mechanically thrust her sword forward, sliding it into the beast’s snarling maw. Pulling her blade out of the demon’s mouth, the forlorn warrior numbly got to her feet and finished off the frothing hellbeast with a dreadful downwards blow. Her foe dead, the blonde fighter stepped over its writhing carcass and walked into the fight, carving up a gibbering imp before her with dazed implacability.


Bann started forwards, scrambling to join his friend as she waded into the battle, heading towards where Jon had fallen. Mila spun to grab after him, but he was already leaping down the steps, ice-cold rage surging through his veins. It was Frieda who stopped him, her massive hand planted against his chest.


“Let me GO!” he roared, tears clouding his vision.


“No, Bann,” said the minotaur, calmly. “Zis is not ze way you avenge a fallen comrade. No, you turn around and go finish zis.”


Cress had already raced forwards, grabbing the zombie-like Hedda by her collar and pulling her back to the steps, thrusting her spear forwards to keep the enemy away. “Go, Bann!” shouted the filly. “We’ll keep her safe!”


“Ve vill hold ze door!” bellowed Frieda, practically throwing Bann back up the steps towards Mila, Pointer and Dayna. “Go! Finish it!”


As Pointer seized the youth by his arms and pulled him bodily through the doorway, Mila grabbed his chin and looked him in the eye. “You with me?” she barked, gripping Bann’s face tightly. “Let’s go kill a fucking demon!”