Shade crouched low behind a ridge of blackened stone, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the wasteland before him. The hills stretched out in jagged lines, covered in sharp, dark stones that jutted like broken teeth. In the distance, the entrance to Techneadore’s dungeon loomed, a fortress carved deep into the earth, guarded by what once was a thick steel doorgate. The Infernal Legion had already breached through it, a few banners were visible in the dim light from the small camp they had setup outside before entering.
Behind him, his warband waited in silence, each member hidden among the jagged rocks. His chosen second-in-command, Skǫrner, with whom he had done private work before, knelt nearby, his scarred feline face looked on with a predatory sight as he too surveyed the landscape.
“How many do you think they’ve got inside?” Skǫrner asked, his voice barely more than a whisper but sharp in intent.
Shade's eyes flicked toward the dungeon’s entrance. "Enough to make it interesting, but not enough to take Techneadore down easily." He ran a hand over the ridge of his blade. “He's cunning and tactically superior. He won't let them overwhelm him, indeed he might even win.”
"You know him right? And you sold out his dungeon's location to the Legion right, who do you think will come out on top?" Skǫrner replied with a raised eyebrow
"Aye, I have no hate for him, this is just the only way to get it done, and if I had to guess id say Techneadore will win frankly, the Legion might have a large force but they are not equipped well for the dungeon type, though they have some elite individuals that could change that." shade stated rather distant.
Skǫrner rumbled. “I see, anyway we can take that supply camp outside, but those auxiliary forces likely have traps setup and could alert the main force. The Legion doesn’t seem to leave its retreat unguarded, they're at least experienced enough for that.”
Shade nodded. The forces here wouldn’t be the Legion’s best to say the least—just enough to maintain a foothold and prevent surprises from striking while they focused on the siege inside. But even their auxiliary forces could be a problem if they sounded alarm.
"They'll be spread thin," Shade said. "Patrolling against monsters and taking care of some wounded that cant fight on at the frontlines, they are not watching for a band like ours. We’ll pick their patrols off individually and then storm their hospital tent and kill all inside and take their supplies before they can send out a runner to raise the alarm."
Shade and Skǫrner exchanged a brief, knowing glance before silently splitting off, each leading a squad from the warband into the shadows. Skǫrner veered to the left, his feline grace allowing him to slip over the jagged rocks without so much as a scrape, with his squad following him effortlessly. Shade moved right, his dark aura blending seamlessly with the black stone of the hills as his squad of assassins, cloaked in black leather, followed behind like shades of death themselves.
The Infernal Legion’s patrols were sparse but seemed to have experience. They were spread thin enough to make them vulnerable, but that was offset by their organizational method, which ensured it would be noticed if one of their groups suddenly disappeared. That was why Shade and Skǫrner had to be quick and precise.
Shade led his group through the winding ravines, every step calculated. His sharp ears caught the low murmur of voices up ahead, a small patrol of three Legion soldiers, their chainmail armor dull against the dark terrain, their guard lax as they trudged along their route. Perfect for a strike.
He raised a hand, signaling his men to halt, and crouched low behind a boulder. His fingers flicked, directing them to fan out. They moved like smoke, silent and deadly, circling around the unsuspecting soldiers. Shade unsheathed his blade, its edge gleaming faintly in the dim light. He waited, his heart steady, eyes locked on the nearest soldier, a heavyset man armed with a halberd and clad in a mishmash of simple armor.
Shade counted down in his head. Three… two… one.
In an instant, they struck.
Shade’s blade slid cleanly across the first soldier's throat, cutting off his startled gasp. The man dropped silently, blood darkening the stone beneath him. The other two soldiers barely had time to react. Shade’s men were on them in a flash, blades piercing through gaps in their armor with lethal precision. The second soldier fell with a gurgle, his life snuffed out before he could raise his weapon. The third managed a shout, but Shade was already on him, slamming his dagger into the man’s eye socket with a brutal twist.
The patrol was dead in a few seconds. Shade crouched down, wiping his blade on the soldier’s cloak. He glanced at his men, nodding once in approval. It had been clean, quick. But they couldn’t linger. He signaled for them to move on, disappearing back into the shadows like wraiths.
Skǫrner’s group moved with equal efficiency. The feline-faced warrior stalked his prey like a predator hunting its next meal. He and his team had come upon a pair of Legion scouts, moving cautiously but not cautiously enough. Skǫrner licked his lips, his sharp teeth glinting in the faint light as he motioned for his men to split off, circling the pair like a pack of wolves.
One of the scouts stopped, his eyes narrowing as he glanced over his shoulder. “You hear that?”
His companion frowned, gripping his sword. “Probably just the wind—”
Skǫrner’s blades flashed in the dim light, one cutting deep into the chest, the other into the throat of the scout before he could finish his sentence. Blood dripped down the blades as the man slowly slid off them and collapsed with a wet thud onto the ground. The second scout barely had time to shout before Skǫrner’s men were upon him, their blades sinking into his chest and back ruthlessly again and again as he fell to the ground. The scout’s eyes went wide, a faint gasp and choke of pain escaping his lips and then nothing—a lifeless stare.
Skǫrner licked the blood from his blade, his mouth trembling and tantalizing at the taste like a predator. Coming back to his senses after a few seconds, he glanced around to ensure no other patrols had heard the brief struggle. Satisfied, he motioned for his group to regroup. They had succeeded without trouble, but time was ticking.
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Shade and Skǫrner’s groups reconvened behind a ridge, where Jorik, the grizzled veteran captain, waited. His one good eye gleamed in the darkness as he surveyed the returning warbands.
“Everything went smooth then?” Jorik asked, his voice low.
Skǫrner nodded, a toothy grin spreading across his scarred face and the fur around his mouth stained red. “Two meals down, no noise. They didn’t see us until it was too late.”
"Ugh," Jorik remarked with distaste, seeing Skǫrner's face. "You animal. Whatever, it's done."
Shade came back, slipping his dagger into its sheath. “Three down on our side, no issues. We’re clear for the assault.”
Jorik grunted in approval. “Good, we need to move immediately. They’ll notice their patrols are missing soon."
Shade nodded. "Then we strike now. Your men surround the entrance and clear out whatever is inside as a priority, and don't let anyone through. Skǫrner's squad clears out the hospital tent. We will hit the supplies tent, then we finish whatever stragglers are left in a pincer move without letting anyone escape."
Skǫrner gripped his weapon eagerly, his ears held backward in anticipation. "Let’s make this quick then."
Shade’s warband moved out again, this time with a sense of urgency. The camp was just beyond the next ridge, a small cluster of tents where the Legion kept their wounded and their supplies. It would be lightly guarded, but any delay could cost them dearly. They had to strike fast before the Legion inside the dungeon could be notified of what was happening.
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Jorik's group, disciplined and rugged, moved with the precision expected of a seasoned heavy infantry unit. Their fur-adorned leather armor blended well with the wasteland’s environment, the darkened fur helping them camouflage among the stones. The gleam of their large axes reflected faintly in the low light, each warrior gripping the heavy, double-headed blades with ease their strength well honed. Horned helmets sat upon their heads, not just for decoration but to identify rank by type and amount and separate friend from foe in the heat of battle whilst also giving them a fearsome appearance on the battlefield.
All this gear wasn’t just for show—these were seasoned warriors, built to counter the monstrous creatures that roamed the Darklands on a daily basis. They were a classic anti-large skirmishing force, trained to confront oversized creatures with precision strikes that could cripple limbs or deliver fatal blows in one swing but agile and stealthy enough to surprise and opponent or dodge an attack. Despite their heavy weapons and aggressive nature, they moved quietly now like a Nightsaber tiger prowling.
Jorik, leading from the front, signaled for his men to fan out as they approached the camp’s entrance. His one good eye swept over the scene—two guards stood lazily at their posts, unaware of the danger creeping up from the shadows. His group had the element of surprise, and Jorik intended to make full use of it.
With a nod, his men moved into action, splitting into smaller units to circle the guards and cut off any potential escape routes. The clinking of their chainmail was drowned out by the gentle breeze, and the soft thud of their boots on the stone was nothing more than a whisper in the dark.
Jorik himself took point, his massive axe gripped firmly in his hands. With a practiced swing, he cleaved the first guard’s head clean off before the man even realized what was happening. Blood spouted up for a bit, but the silence was mostly maintained.
The second guard had a split second to react, his eyes going wide, but the heavy clang of an axe from one of Jorik's warriors crashing into his chestplate crushing through the ribs and lungs ended that. The man collapsed, gurgling on his own blood.
Jorik's group now having swiftly taken out the guards at the entrance, was about to return to cover when a shout broke the silence. From the campfire area, a group of Legion soldiers, who before this were caught up in their own chatter, had spotted the attack and were frantically sounding the alarm.
“Alarms!” Jorik bellowed, his voice cutting through the din. “Hold the line!”
His men snapped to attention, the disciplined warriors immediately transitioning from stealth to battle readiness. They formed a solid line, axes at the ready, prepared to face any desperate attempts to break through and reach the dungeon.
The camp erupted into a skirmish as the campfire group’s alarm was sounded in every corner. The few Legion soldiers outside scrambled to arm themselves and respond, but Jorrik's men were already prepared. The initial rush of attackers met the fierce resistance of Jorrik's group, their large axes cleaving through the ranks of the panicked Legion soldiers with brutal efficiency.
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Inside, the hospital tent was a disorganized mess. Medicinal supplies and makeshift beds were scattered haphazardly, and the wounded Legion soldiers lay in various stages of recovery. The hospital staff, caught by surprise, had little chance to react.
Skǫrner’s men were upon them quickly. The staff, including healers and nurses, were cut down with swift, brutal precision. Skǫrner, enjoying the carnage, personally dealt with the head physician, his claws slicing through the man’s throat before he could utter a sound.
With the staff dead or incapacitated, Skǫrner’s men turned their attention to the wounded soldiers. Those who were too injured to fight were quickly dispatched, their moans silenced with merciless efficiency. The tent, once a place of relative safety, was soon drenched in blood.
Satisfied with their work, Skǫrner and his squad made their exit, leaving behind the scene of a massacre.
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Shade’s group started clearing out the supply tent, moving toward the area where Legion soldiers were unloading demolition equipment. The scene was busy, with crates and barrels being hastily moved in preparation for their next demolition job inside the dungeon.
Shade’s squad approached stealthily, their dark clothing blending with the shadows. They observed the unloading process from a distance, noting the heavy equipment and the small group of soldiers involved.
Shade gave a signal, and his men moved in, striking with precision. Shade’s squad dispatched them swiftly, their blades easily cutting through the soldiers, who were caught off guard, too busy with work to pay much attention to their surroundings.
As his men struck down the soldiers, Shade noticed a lone drunk soldier stumbling around, his weapon loosely held as he tried to make sense of the commotion. Shade threw a dagger at the fool's throat, downing him with minimal effort. The drunk soldier had no idea what had happened at any point.
With the place under their control and the remaining soldiers dead, Shade’s squad left to regroup.
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Jorik's group had just begun to fend off the first attackers when the full extent of the camp’s chaos became apparent. The Legion soldiers, desperate and disorganized, were trying to break through and find help, but Jorik's men held their line with unyielding determination.
Shade and Skǫrner’s groups soon emerged from their respective areas of attack. As one Legion soldier cried out, “All forces help! We are under attack!” Skǫrner shouted gleefully, “Hahaha, I’m here to help, alright—help put you down, that is!” as he joined the fighting.
The camp was now a battlefield of confusion and violence. Jorik's group continued to hold the line firmly, repelling the attackers, while Shade and Skǫrner’s forces completed their pincer maneuver, cutting down any remaining Legion soldiers and ensuring no reinforcements would arrive.
The camp was soon silent, the last Legion soldier cut down with some pointless pleas for mercy. The sky had grown darker, dusk turning into night. Now, Shade’s group would turn the camp into an ambush spot for any returning Legion forces. The corpses would be disposed of, and the camp made to look as natural as possible again. The night would certainly aid them in that process.