On the outskirts of Angurn, where the Almany soldiers were stationed, a soldier on lookout duty dashed toward the command tent in a panic. His breath was ragged as he skidded to a halt, saluting hurriedly.
“Lieutenant Falkmar, the hailstorm… it’s gone!” he gasped, struggling to catch his breath.
Falkmar, surprised, stepped out of the tent. “Gone?” His brow furrowed in disbelief as he glanced toward the distant village. The ominous storm that had cloaked Angurn for so long had vanished without warning.
Without wasting time, Falkmar pulled out his magnifying scope, holding it up to his eye as he carefully surveyed the village for any signs of disturbance. "Just what has happened?" he muttered, adjusting the focus as he scanned the horizon for anything unusual.
The village seemed eerily calm from this distance, but Falkmar's instincts told him that something was amiss. The sudden disappearance of the storm, after days of impenetrable blizzards, made no sense. "Prepare the men," he ordered, lowering the scope. "We’re moving out. Something’s not right, and we need to find out what.”
The soldier saluted, running off to relay the command. Falkmar remained, his eyes fixed on the village, unease settling in his gut.
As Falkmar continued to survey the village through his magnifying scope, a sudden movement caught his eye. His blood ran cold as he spotted a pack of Snaegulvars, their hulking, wolf-like forms darting through the streets, heading straight for the heart of the village.
“Snaegulvars...” Falkmar muttered under his breath, a grimace forming on his face. The beasts were moving swiftly, their relentless advance unmistakable. He tightened his grip on the scope, following their path. "They're heading into the village. Damn it... it’s worse than I thought."
As Falkmar focused his scope on the Snaegulvars, a sense of dread gnawed at him. His breath caught when he traced the path of the monstrous pack—his gaze landing on a lone figure desperately running through the snow-laden village streets.
A girl.
The Snaegulvars were hunting her.
“By the gods…” Falkmar muttered, his eyes wide with shock. He could see the desperation in her movements, the way she staggered through the village, trying to find shelter. The beasts, however, were relentless, their fanged jaws snapping as they closed in on her.
Falkmar’s urgency only grew as he scanned the village. His heart pounded as he lowered his scope, the horrifying image of the girl still fresh in his mind. "We don’t have much time."
“Lieutenant Falkmar, the platoon is ready to sortie!” a soldier reported, breathless and tense.
“Good,” Falkmar responded, his tone grim. “We have to reach Angurn immediately. There’s a girl being hunted by the Snaegulvars.”
“Understood, sir!” the soldier saluted and quickly rejoined the ranks, ready to mobilize.
Falkmar turned toward the assembled soldiers, snow crunching beneath their boots as they stood ready for action. They didn’t have horses, but they would have to cover the distance on foot as quickly as possible.
“We move out—now!” Falkmar ordered.
The soldiers charged forward, their footsteps swift and steady as they raced through the snow-covered terrain toward Angurn. Falkmar led the way, his breath visible in the cold air, his mind focused solely on reaching the village in time. Every second mattered.
As they neared Angurn, Falkmar’s gaze was locked on the distant village. The wind howled, but the Snaegulvars' vicious howls grew louder, spurring the soldiers on.
"Hang on, kid," Falkmar muttered under his breath. "We’re coming."
As they neared the village, a pack of Snaegulvars appeared, blocking their path.
“Firing Squad, get in position and cover us! Fire at will!” Falkmar commanded, his voice sharp and authoritative.
“Yes, sir!” came the quick reply. The rear troops broke formation and took up a defensive stance, raising their specialized crossbows.
After steadying their aim, the soldiers unleashed a volley of fire arrows at the advancing Snaegulvars. The arrows, coated in oil, ignited on impact, burning fiercely as they pierced the creatures. The oil ensured that the flames wouldn’t be extinguished, intensifying the fire as it engulfed the wolves.
Seizing the opportunity, the frontline troops charged in, slashing through the weakened Snaegulvars with their crossbow bayonets, pushing forward as they fought their way into the village.
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As the Snaegulvars ahead were annihilated, the rear-firing squad wasted no time. They quickly sprinted forward, catching up to the frontline troops without a moment’s delay.
As they approached the area where the girl was supposed to be hiding, more Snaegulvars appeared, this time surrounding them from all sides.
“Platoon, Formation D!” Falkmar commanded sharply.
“Yes, sir!” the soldiers responded in unison.
Without hesitation, the troops shifted into position, forming a defensive circle. The firing squad took the center, their crossbows ready, while the frontline soldiers spread out, covering every angle and bracing for the imminent attack.
The howling wind carried the eerie cries of the approaching Snaegulvars as they emerged from the swirling snow, their glowing red eyes locking onto the Almany soldiers. The soldiers stood firm, crossbows at the ready, their faces steeled for battle.
“Ready… aim!” Falkmar shouted, his voice cutting through the storm.
The firing squad took aim, their oil-coated fire arrows igniting in a blaze of orange against the blinding white snow.
“Fire!”
A volley of flaming arrows shot forward, arcing through the air and striking the first wave of Snaegulvars. The creatures snarled and howled as the arrows embedded in their icy fur, flames erupting upon contact. The oil-fed fire clung to their bodies, scorching through their natural ice resistance. Even as they thrashed to shake off the burning agony, the fire refused to be extinguished, devouring them with growing intensity.
More Snaegulvars surged from the flanks, undeterred by their burning kin. They moved as a pack, ice shards forming around their claws, ready to tear through the soldiers’ defenses.
“Frontline, brace!” Falkmar ordered.
The frontline soldiers gripped their crossbows, pulling out the attached bayonets with a sharp click. The Snaegulvars lunged with chilling ferocity, but the soldiers met them head-on. A soldier stabbed forward, his bayonet piercing the throat of a charging wolf, blood staining the snow beneath. Another thrust caught a Snaegulvar in mid-air, its icy claws inches from tearing into the soldier’s chest.
The bayonets gleamed with deadly precision as they clashed with the wolves, cutting through ice-clad fur and bone. The soldiers pressed forward, using their bayonets to stab, parry, and counter the Snaegulvars’ vicious attacks. Every successful strike weakened the enemy, the fire arrows whistling overhead from the firing squad, providing continuous cover.
A hulking Snaegulvar, larger than the others, charged straight at the defensive circle, its claws radiating dark magic, threatening to break through the soldiers’ formation.
“Concentrate fire on the big one!” Falkmar barked.
Several soldiers aimed and fired simultaneously, sending flaming arrows into the beast’s chest. The creature stumbled but kept advancing, its magical regeneration already repairing the damage. Undeterred, the soldiers continued their barrage, igniting the air with the searing hiss of fire arrows. Finally, with a savage howl, the massive Snaegulvar collapsed, consumed by the relentless flames.
“Push forward!” Falkmar shouted, rallying his men.
With a united battle cry, the soldiers advanced, driving the remaining Snaegulvars back. The frontliners used their bayonets to carve through the fray, while the firing squad continued their barrage of fire arrows, turning the battlefield into a blazing inferno.
As the final Snaegulvar fell, its body engulfed in flames, the soldiers stood victorious. The snow around them was littered with smoldering corpses, the once-menacing pack reduced to ash and charred remains.
Breathing heavily, Falkmar scanned the horizon, ensuring no more threats approached. “Hold your ground! We press on soon,” he ordered, his voice steady despite the exhaustion.
----------------------------------------
A while later, Kelda still stood poised with the chair in her hands, ready to smash whatever or whoever came through the door. Her grip tightened as a series of loud bangs echoed through the room, each one sending a jolt of adrenaline through her body. Then, suddenly, silence fell.
Her heart raced as she remained on high alert, waiting for any sign of movement. But nothing happened. The banging ceased, and an eerie stillness followed, amplifying the tension in the room.
Kelda's knuckles whitened as she gripped the chair tighter, her eyes fixed on the door, her mind racing with possibilities. What if the monsters are just waiting for me to tire out? The throbbing pain in her head worsened, clouding her focus and adding to her growing anxiety.
Suddenly, the door creaked open, its slow movement sending a chill down her spine. Without hesitation, she saw a shadow cross the threshold. Fear and desperation took over, and with all her strength, she swung the chair, slamming it down on the intruder.
The impact was solid, but to her surprise, it wasn’t a monster—it was a man. “Eh?!” she blurted, startled.
The man grunted, raising his crossbow just in time to block the blow, preventing any serious injury. The chair bounced off the weapon, leaving both of them momentarily frozen in shock.
“Whoa, easy there!” the man said, lowering his crossbow cautiously. “I'm not here to fight you.”
“Who are you—?” Kelda began, still clutching the damaged chair, her voice shaky with adrenaline. But before she could finish, she noticed more figures entering the room behind him.
“Guys?” she added, her confusion deepening as she saw the group.
The man lowered his crossbow further, glancing back at the others. “We’re not here to hurt you. We're soldiers from Almany. We heard there was trouble in the area.” He motioned toward the rest of the group before turning to address another figure, who seemed to be in charge. “Looks like we found her, sir.”
From the shadows stepped a more imposing figure, his presence commanding. He approached with a measured pace, his eyes scanning Kelda, assessing the situation. “Good. Let’s make sure she’s safe,” the officer said calmly, but with an air of authority.
Kelda, still tense, stared at them, unsure if she could trust them.
“I saw you getting chased by the Snaegulvars and rushed here with my soldiers. Are you alright?” Falkmar, the commanding officer, asked, his voice tinged with concern.
“I-I… fine, I guess…?” Kelda stammered, but before she could say more, a sharp, unbearable pain shot through her head. “Arghhhh!!! My head—” she gasped, clutching her temples as the pain grew worse. Her legs gave out beneath her, and she collapsed to the floor, still holding her head in agony.
“Someone help her!” Falkmar barked, and his soldiers immediately rushed forward.
“Yes, sir!” They moved quickly, retrieving a collapsible stretcher from one of their packs. Carefully, they lifted Kelda onto it, their movements precise and gentle.
“Squad one, take her back to camp,” Falkmar ordered. “She needs treatment immediately.”
With coordinated efficiency, they hoisted Kelda up and began carrying her out of the room, making their way through the cold, snow-covered village toward the safety of their camp.
“Squad Two and Three, remain stationed here and search for any other survivors,” Falkmar commanded sharply.
“Yes, sir!” the soldiers responded in unison. Squads Two and Three quickly fanned out, moving methodically through the village to search for any other survivors, while Squad one carried Kelda, their pace steady but cautious.
Falkmar stood for a moment, his eyes scanning the desolate village. The silence was unnerving, and the air was thick with tension. He watched his soldiers move, his mind racing with thoughts of the growing dangers surrounding Angurn.
Satisfied with their progress, Falkmar turned to follow Squad One. "I’ll come with you,” he said firmly. “We need to ensure she gets proper care.”
As they made their way through the snow-covered streets, Falkmar kept his hand close to his crossbow, his sharp gaze constantly scanning the shadows. The Snaegulvars were still out there, and he wasn’t about to let his guard down.
Squad One moved with precision, carrying Kelda with care. Falkmar marched alongside them, his thoughts focused on the threats ahead and the fate of the village. The weight of responsibility hung heavy in the cold air as they pressed on.