Dyke screamed. Loudly. He scratched his throat sore as he bellowed for the village to awaken. Lights blared from across all three sides of the wall. All three sides but one.
“Monsters are in the village! Monsters! Monsters!” he yelled as he stomped in puddles of rain. A cluster of confused yelling panic followed. A horde of monsters had climbed over the wall, somehow. Bugbears, Vathiá, and other unidentifiable goblinoids littered the walls, some jumping over into the village, arming themselves with swords that were laid out below, while others threw the ladder and tossed over rope. Others ran across the battlements, towards the guards and sources of light. Dyke did not have enough time to comprehend any of what he saw. He simply jumped from the wall and stumbled across the village, yelling his throat out. “Monsters! Monsters are in the village! Come out with your weapons, come out!” he ran, laying blows on each door he ran by. Fighting already began in the far distance. The villagers slowly came out from their houses, leaving their kids and woman behind barred doors. The terror of fighting had made them active and removed the drowsiness that accompanied an interrupted slumber. They had their misfit of weapons in hand to fight beasts, only to be caught by a squadron of goblinoids. The monsters were ready and had focused their numbers on one side of the village while the humans were scattered and disorganized, spread from each other over a significant distance. They had no time to gather within each other before being cut down in the dark. The nocturnal beasts dealt a great initial blow, catching off the village in its most vulnerable time.
Half a dozen guards light up the goblins with their staffs, but those that did had attracted the horde's attention. A swarm of goblins ran crazily at the source of light, spreading, surrounding, and overwhelming it. The villagers ran towards the source of light, knowing that in the rain no fires could be made, and that the staffs of light were their only hope, but the monsters were already informed of this, and had used the light as bait.
A fierce battle raged on, in the middle of the village, but the humans were quickly losing it, even as more and more joined the fray. Snortlings ran in widely, taking out isolated targets with large numbers. Foriest Kith Goblins snuck in the darkness, weaving in and out with their claws. Trows, being disguised in human clothing, blended in with humans in the dim light, allowing them to backstab their supposed allies. The goblins had real weapons in comparison to their rusted spears and farm tools, and a dogfight benefitted them more than the humans. It was pure chaos. Screams, roars, beastlike sounds, iron clashing, flesh parting, and lightning flashing across the skies and the rain making the village a mud field-- it all fueled the monsters and set people at a panic. It dumbed the mind, reducing the wiser human into their basic, instinctive mode to survive. This only benefited the beasts, who had no other mind but instinctive.
But they were only goblins. There were a few formidable Bugbears, but the rest were weak and unable to fight an untrained housewife in the light, much less a trained adult. The losses were mounting but they needed to rally and gather as to not be picked off, and spread the source of light to prevent ambushes. Not only did the light provide vision for the humans but it also blinded the beasts whose eyes were molded in the dark.
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Light was their victory, and Luke was the village’s greatest hope. In all the fear and death and blood spilling, all gathered around their village elder, their head guardsmen. Dyke circled the village hall, dodging and weaving around the goblins. “To the village hall! Gather under Luke! Go towards the light!” he yelled, his heart beating wildly in his ears. Half of the village was struggling to find each other, while the other half had already gathered under the leadership of Luke’s squad. They were the only ones who had the time to put on their armor, and were making a mess out of anything that neared them.
Fifty men and woman and growing in number as the guards stood shoulder to shoulder and held before the onslaught. Goblins, mostly the most dull-witted ones, ran at their blades and shields like a moth to the flame. In the center of Luke’s group stood the staff wielders. There were now over a dozen of them, lighting up the area in a large circle. Their backs were to the walls, allowing each villager to cover the back of the other.
Arrows flew from the sides of the monsters, but were largely ineffective. The rain poured too much for the bow to be of use, and even the ones that were on target bounced off of shields set to protect the light wielders.
Dyke ducked, allowing a goblin to fly over his head. He held his blade in one arm and the staff in the other, but did not stop his momentum. He ran on, blinding as many goblins as he could, allowing people to break off and join him in his sprint. He needed to rally as many people as he could. They would survive, he knew they would. Half of the village had perished before a resistance force could be established, but even with those losses, the villagers would still be able to fight off the goblins. They ran in madly into their deaths, with no care for tactic. They had lost their advantage. Their losses were mounting up, and slowly but surely, the humans gained force. Dyke, along sides a group twenty villagers, cut through the horde of goblins and joined arms with Luke’s group.
A high pitched, beastie scream cut through the noise of fighting. It pierced through the pouring rain and the yelling and yelling. The goblins stopped, and no longer charged towards the blades. Instead, they backed off, gnawing and spitting from a safe distance. From a moment there was a short repose, in which the humans stared back with vicious rage at the wild goblins.
The light scared them off, foot by foot, cueing the humans to roar and taunt the goblins widely. Luke threw his hand, forbidding anyone from chasing after them. They needed to catch their breath. A break would only help them.
A drumming sound echoed in the distance. Everyone paused, holding their breath as it was heard again. Drum it went. Drum, like the sound of wood crushing under something solid. Drum. Drum. Drum.
And then a woman’s scream and the crying of children. The rain no longer made any sound. It came down heavily, splashing against each breathing being, but the woman’s cries and her children muted all else.
And then it stopped, abruptly.
The drumming sound resumed, this time all over the village and in greater quantity.