At first, Evenin did not understand what was happening.
Riding on Snowman along the dirt road, her sight ahead was somewhat obscured. On all sides she was flanked by ram cavalry, their long broad axes and thick plate armor shining with metallic deterence. In front of them, a double platoon of dwarven soldiers marched behind a broad tall wagon.
There was little sound coming from ahead, except some unaudible or uninformative shouts of surprise. The latter mostly containing dwarven expletives. She saw Cavalry Sergeant Castiron straighten to attention, and stare. He kicked his ram, galloping ahead, and out of sight. The soldiers around her, and the few merchants and their assistants she could see ahead or hear behind her, they all expressed or gave off the same tired and confused state as she felt. Everyone was just looking to the other. Meanwhile, a few rams stirred, like they sensed something.
The first telling sign of what was really going on came not from the front though, but from a dwarven ram cavalrywoman, who suddenly charged in from a treeline some few dozen metres away, crossing a small tall grass field towards Evenin’s general area. She was shouting – no, SCREAMING – at top of her lungs, trying to tell her comrades something.
“–ooobliiins!” Evenin managed to catch, and then again, a little closer, “GoooBlIINS!”
Finally, Evenin understood the message full and clear, as an arrow WOOOSH! just past her face, followed by a series of WOOOSH-WOOOSH-WOOOSH-WOOOSH!, a hail of a dozen or so arrows aimed not just at her, but also the caravan’s guards. 2 arrows, before she even managed to make a single decision, shot right for Snowman’s neck – but broke off direction. My magic pins, she instinctively grabbed for them, thank the gods they also protect mounts! My Snowman! Evenin cast her eyes around, fearful and concerned, and saw arrows, bolts, and even javelins rain from the nearby bushes and trees. Watching those same bushes and trees, she saw the first goblins a dozen or so metres away from the road peak out, revealing their positions. So few, was all that Evenin could think, before a sudden WAVE of goblins stood up, all across the fields. Evenin looked across the fields to her right, then to her left. It had happened on both sides. Shocked out of her mind with fear, Evenin could do little but stare towards the dozens upon dozens of goblins, as the first of them started to prepare new arrows for bows, new bolts for crossbows, and others reached back with whole arms, new javelins in hands.
The next wave of projectiles flew high and landed all about her and the other dwarves, but as she watched the hail, a noise came to distract her. A ram in front was jumping around, the ram’s steel plate protections smacking against each other with each jump. The creature, experiencing an utter horror and desperation, was trying to escape a javelin sticking out from its neck. A metallic THUD! The ram’s rider had been cast off to the dirt road. The mount, continuing its desperate dance a little while longer, forced the other cavalrists to back away. But the show was not to go on forever. Soon, the ram collapsed, sideways. There, on soil compacted by generations of being stepped on, the ram whined quietly, bleeding out. Altogether, the scene had to Evenin been shocking and disturbing. Still, a little hope concerning their own fate was refunded to her, when the ram’s rider stumbled back up to his feet, and, standing tall with axe in hand and armor shining, effortlessly deflected a couple of incoming arrows and a bolt.
As dramatic and horrible as the events all around them were though, this was merely the start. I’m in a battle. A real BATTLE. Yet there’s nothing for me to do... nothing, but staying alive! She turned her head to look around left, right, and behind. Snowman acted restless, and kept backing up and moving around in response to the noises and the incoming projectiles, and the projectiles seemingly came from everywhere. As Evenin tried to get a grasp of the situation, it became clear to her that the caravan was, for all intents and purposes, surrounded by an enemy who was not quite fully hiding, but whose numbers remained unclear, and more importantly, was yet to charge them. As she sought to grasp the situation, one thing became increasingly clear though: Nowhere, I can hide nowhere. Me and Snowman are trapped. If I dismount, my enchanted pins won’t protect Snowman. And me on top of Snowman, I am too big a target to hide when we’re being attacked from everywhere! As the envoy’s mind raced inside, trying to tame her despair and at the same time find the right thing to do, a voice approach from ahead, hailing everyone in turns. “MERCHANTS! MERCHANTS! ANGLE YOUR WAGONS TOGETHER! FORM A WALL, AND HIDE!” It was Cavalry Sergeant Castiron, riding on his ram with haste, down the caravan line, his long battleaxe in hand, and his voice belowing out loud, clear, and commanding. “SOLDIERS! SOLDIERS! GROUP UP, PROTECT EVENIN AND THE WAGONS!” Lastly, as the man homed in on Evenin’s area, he commanded his own group. “CAVALRY, CAVALRY, JOIN ME, WE’RE GOING OUT FOR A CHAAARGE!”
The war leader, galloping along the road, curved in towards Evenin’s exact position, before a great flock of ram-mounted dwarves kicked into gear and converged around his tail, the sergeant’s bringing them all out, away, and into the fields on the caravan’s right, whereupon another command was thrown out. “SPREAD OUT AND SLAY THE ENEMY! SHATTER THEM, SHAAATTER THEM!”
Seeing the force of heavily armored rams and dwarves charge at them with their long axes outstretched, most of the goblins had the smart idea of making a tactical retreat out of harms way. Other goblins, who were a little too close to the road, did not have the luxury of turning their backs to mounted dwarves however, and rather decided to make themselves as difficult targets to strike down as possible. They jumped around in the grass and sprinted circles around the rams, hoping to outpace the dwarves’ ability to rotate their positions. This was in many cases quite effective, while in other cases the rams eventually either kicked the goblin to the ground or simply charged at the person with their massive curved horns, the result being the same. In a last scenario, there were a few goblins who had less than healthy concern for their own life. These instead decided to play battle hero, and duelled the charging dwarves with spears that had been concealed in the tall grass, or aimed there bows up close in the hopes of striking critical blows. Every single one of these though, one after the other, died their heroic deaths. Against stubborn battle-brave bodies, the dwarven charge was merciless and crushing. But outside of just the handful of goblins who had decided to stand their ground, and a couple more who hadn’t survived trying to run away or outmaneouver the rams, the rest got away and was merely dispersed for the moment.
Having chased his enemy away and made some initial enemy casualties, Cavalry Sergeant Castiron trotted back towards Evenin’s position, waving his axe in the air. “REFORM! CAVALRY REFORM WITH ME!”
The caravan’s cavalry converged on him again, and as he came upon Evenin’s position, the man pointed down and over towards some foot soldiers, who had in the meantime been busy shielding the wagon-pulling rams from the attackers, and helping the merchants to start rolling wagons into makeshift walls around the envoy. “Infantry Corporal Steelstasche!” yelled the mounted leader.
A wrinkled, old, dwarven soldier, responded to the call. With grey hair, a grey full beard, and the most voluminous grey moustache Evenin had ever seen, as well as a deep battlescar next to his right eye, the corporal made something of an impression as he speed-walked over towards the trotting sergeant, who in turn slowed down to a halt. “What is it, Cavalry Sergeant?”
“You be in command of local defence here at the mid-section now. Corporal Rollingstone leads defence at the front, and I’m heading over the rear to set up Corporal Coalsniffer for the same. We’re looking at the broadest possible front ahead of us, and I will have to stay mobile to protect it all. I will be back for more orders later. But for now these are my orders: stay put, and stay close to the road if possible!”
Infantry Corporal Steelstasche, battle-ready with a handaxe in his right hand, and a long rectangular shield in his other, closed both eyes in a quick, but slight bow. “We will hold, Cavalry Sergeant.”
The mounted leader looked up and kicked his ram into a trott again. “CAVALRY, WITH ME! WE CHARGE AGAIN!” The rams passed Evenin in a flurry of trotting hoves, and swarmed out into the leftside fields. The sergeant kicked his ram into a gallop, axe pointed in the general direction of this new large set of goblins, also armed with arrows, crossbows, and javelins. “DISPERSE, CAVALRY! AND SLAY THE ENEMY!” He chopped with his axe through the air for visual emphasis. “NO MERCY! SHATTER THEM! SHATTER THE GOBLINS WHO DARE ATTACK OUR CARAVAN!” The cavalry ran across the fields, a horrific sight for the goblins, who mostly decided on the same tactical retreats of their comrades. As the cavalry cleaned up the fields and nearby bushes of goblins visibly firing projectiles, the sergeant shouted out for another reform and their numbers swarmed away towards the fields of the rear, where they, as far as Evenin could tell, repeated their tactic of goblin dispersal.
With the cavalry away, Infantry Corporal Steelstasche busied himself with directing the defences. While a dozen or so soldiers put aside their axes and shields to help with the wagons, who were serially stuck in the difficult terrain under the tall grasses, the corporal shouted at them in his deepest, loudest voice possible. “PUSH, MEN! – and women, you too, and our enby, you also Private Gemcut – PUSH LIKE YOU HAVEN’T TAKEN A SHIT IN WEEKS! THIS BE A WAR YOU’RE IN NOW, AND IT IS THE BIGGEST SHIT YOU’RE EVER GOING TO DEAL WITH! SO PUUUSH! YOUR HEALTH – hark-hark” the man coughed and cleared his throat “–depends on it!” His throat dried up momentarily, and the man grabbed a flask at his belt to moisturize it.
It took excruciatingly long for the wagons to be set up across the road, in the manner that they also stuck out into the fields on both sides, taking on the shape of an octangular fort of crudely joined wagon-walls. With the fate of the battle still entirely unknown and no charging yet by the enemy, getting ready for that time was on the minds of all of the caravan’s defenders. Or could they want to draw us out in a battle of arrows and bolts? Evenin considered the issue as she watched the first 4 wagons roll into place out in the fields.
WOOOSH! an arrow flew over her. She looked back from whence it had come, out into the fields on the right side of the road. The goblins are reforming!
PRRRFT! A spatter of red hand-sized but gasous flares, shot out and near instantenously vanished above Evenin’s head. “Someone cast magic on me!” she exclaimed, and ten or so nearby dwarves all immediately looked towards her. “Eeeh” she let out, unsure of what to say next, before her accumulated instincts as a politician overtook her insecurities. “I’m certain somebody targeted me with a remote spell, for that was the effect of a spell block.”
The dwarves looked at her, and at each other. Nobody had anything to say, but they all looked worried. It was after all their job to protect her. But magic, and least of all remotely cast magic, was not part of their skillsets.
GRRRUUUH!
Evenin looked down at a female infantrist. The dwarf, carrying her heavy rectangular shield in her left hand, made a pained expression while moving her right axe-holding hand to her belly.
GRRRUUUH! The belly repeated the sound, louder this time.
“Private Understone?” Infantry Corporal Steelstasche came over. “What is the matter with you?”
GRRRUUUH-GRRRUUUH! 2 more stomachs growled, but this time it wasn’t Private Understone, who just looked back at her leader with an expression simultaneously pained and embarrassed. The infantry corporal turned around to find the offending stomachs. He didn’t need to look far though, because the other 2, a couple of bearded men, gently held their bellies in that same manner.
GRRRUUUH-GRRRUUUH-GRRRUUUH! The corporal’s eyebrows rose up, and his eyes bulged. “It’s spreading...” he whispered. Then, momentarily stunned, he burst out into a shout. “IT’S THE CURSE OF MASS HUNGER! THE CURSE OF MASS HUNGER! MEN, WOMEN, ENBY – a powerful Tumi Promise is here. Do not fall prey to the goblin magic. The Curse is AN ILLUSION, a SPELL of TRICKERY! You ain’t hungry soldiers, your bellies are being fooled!”
GRRRUUUH-GRRRUUUH-GRRRUUUH-GRRRUUUH!
Corporal Steelstasche’s own stomach was among this next round of new and returning growlers, but like a character of steel, worthy of his stasche and name, the veteran infantrist showed no expression of it affecting him. Rather, he performed an effortless act of ignoring it, and, as one younger soldier clutched extra deeply at his belly, the corporal focused his eyes on him. With a stern expression, he speed-walked up to the man, and berated the subordinate at the top of his lungs. “YOU AIN’T HUNGRY SOLDIER! STAND TALL AND TAKE YOUR MIND OFF OF IT! ARE YOU NOT A GROWN MAN IN CHARGE OF YOUR OWN BODY!? ARE YOU NOT!?”
GRRRUUUH! The stomach only complained louder, and the soldier looked up at his leader with a deeply pained expression. “But, corporal... I’ve been hungry-marching for over 2 hours. I think I’m actually just very, very hungry.”
“Truly hungry, are you? In the middle of battle, you fancy yourself the luxury to think about DINNER!? SHUT YOUR COMPLAINTS AND FOCUS ON THE BATTLE, SOLDIER! You can bloody eat when you ain’t at the risk of your OWN SLAUGHTER!” The corporal sheath his own handaxe and then, with his free hand, slapped hard the hungry man’s face. “ANYBODY ELSE WANTS TO PLAY PICKNICK UNDER A RAIN OF ARROWS!? NO!? THEN STAND GODS-BE-DAMN TALL SOLDIERS! Straighten up your backs and look NOT to your belly, BUT! TO – THE – DAMNED – ENEMY!” With each word he thrust his shield in the direction of the shooting goblins.
To the corporal’s credit, the dwarves for the most part did exactly as he said. And even though it was clear on many of their faces that they were indeed pained by the effects of an illusory hunger, more or less mixed with the very real hunger coming from hours of marching on the road, the shouting at least got the soldiers to focus their attention on their tasks. Most soldiers now put considerably extra stress into protecting their comrades with their shields, while the latter exposed their backs and fronts to an ever intensifying projectile rain. They were trying to move the last wagons into place. Unfortunately, by the time this task was finishing up, this renewed discipline had not saved everyone. 1 dwarf was shot critically in the neck from a bolt. Meanwhile, 3 more dwarves had to be carried by their comrades to the safest spots behind the wagons anyone could find. The latter so covered with bolts that their bodies, dying slowly from the organ-piercing damage and non-stop bleeding, risked becoming trivial prey for that stream of deadly iron-tipped wood.
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“ALL WALLS IN PLACE, CORPORAL!” It was Private Gemcut who announced the completion of the objective, as their group finally lodged the last wagon in place.
“Good work, Private!” Steelstasch turned to look around at the awaiting crowd of dwarven soldiers, at the improvised militia of armed merchants and armed merchant assistants, at Evenin, and at those who had no weapons but were simply there to seek cover. “Now everyone get inside our fort, find yourself cover, and get yourself ready for the goblins to come swarming in through the cracks. At some point these cowards will run out of bolts and arrows, and then they will have to charge us!”
But it wouldn’t take long after the corporal had given his orders, and ordered an equal distribution of armed people around the inside of the octagonal fort, before the arrows and bolts stopped entirely. For all intents and purposes, their particular area ceased to have any combat activity whatsoever. Meanwhile, over the eery silence of their immediate surroundings, everyone could hear shouts and screams from afar. The distant sounds of metal against metal, the cracking of wood, and the faint wooosh! of distant arrows.
Evenin, perhaps most of all, felt that their silence was totally wrong; that it had to mean something, and something bad. What are the goblins’ plans? Why aren’t we being targeted for anything? Snowman pawed heavily over to Corporal Steelstasche’s cover spot, where the diplomat locked eyes with the veteran. “What is it, envoy?” animated the steel-color moustasche.
“I’m just wondering” she replied, eyes disconnecting and looking out over the wagons, “is this inaction we are facing from the enemy – while our comrades are obviously experiencing real fighting – is this perhaps the intent of the goblins?”
Steelstasche raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
“I’m just observing, that if Infantry Corporal Coalsniffer is defending the rear, like we defend the middle, and Infantry Corporal Rollingstone defends the front, have we not been dividing our forces into 3 parts, each of which is more vulnerable, than if everyone came together?”
Steelstasche squeezed his lips together and nodded. “Aye, it is so. But unfortunately envoy, I have my orders. And, orders aside, joining up isn’t much of an option right now.” He leaned in on his shield, eyes and face in thought.
“Why not?” she gave him a raised eyebrow in turn.
“Hmm.” He pursed his lips this time, and looked down for a bit. Something that caused his lips to altogether disappear under the magnificent stasche. “I do not think we can risk exposing ourselves to enemy fire by trying to join together our forts. The effort would take too long to achieve, and in the meantime, we’d be even more vulnerable. If that was to be our plan, we at least would’ve had to have done so from the start. And the alternative, that we all sprint over into their fort, I suspect then there wouldn’t be much room for proper cover. We’d be so packed together, envoy, the wagons would barely protect us all.”
“But shouldn’t we try joining up? Your comrades could be overwhelmed over there. And if that happens, they’ll simply overwhelm us next.“
The corporal, his face being just one kind of unsure expression after the other now, bit his teeth as he glanced towards the ground. “No – orders are orders!" He looked up and met her eyes. "We’ll tell Cavalry Sergeant Castiron this when he returns. In the meantime, trust the sergeant’s reasoning, envoy.”
Evenin did not retort. Instead, she just looked above the wagons with worry on her face, the distant sounds of ongoing fighting readily heard by everyone. And, quite disturbingly among these metallic and wooden sounds and the shouting and the yelling, there were also this: screams. And the uncertainty of what events were producing such primal exclamations of agony disturbed many a listener.
For minutes the corporal managed to play down these sounds in his head. To him, they were just the normal sounds of battle. He had, after all, been in several battles throughout his long life, and screams were common there. Screams of pain after suffering a hit, screams of sorrow after losing a comrade, in battle that was natural. However, the other present element was a little more difficult not to be affected by. He was trying very hard not to notice the envoy, who was staring worryingly into the beyond of their wagons, in the direction of that front-most fort. Maybe it was her huge charisma score at play here, but he find in that worried expression of hers something that challenged his very soul. Still, he was a hard soul, and if ignoring her was what he needed to do, then he would make an effort of it! As such, the old dwarf turned around and away from the woman, at first. Then he tried talking to his nearby comrades, about particular archers and crossbowyers over in the fields and in the trees. They could spot some of them through the cracks of their wagon walls and even some more from under the wagons. He exchanged some few sentences with these soldiers, as well as some pointings with fingers and hands. These pointings were also coupled with moments of peering at a particular bush, and then a second peering at a spot of grass. After a while though, Steelstasch ran out of effective looking to do. He was the infantry corporal in charge, after all. His job wasn’t to be a spotter. So he decided instead to organize the retrieval of the unit’s healing and stamina potions from a few cleverly hiddensacks inside the wagons, and got dwarves to start treating those who’d been initially wounded by the bolts and arrows. But, as he wasn’t a healer himself, soon there wasn’t much for him to do there either but deliver a little encouraging speech to the wounded, before delegating the rest. He managed to busy himself with some inspection and patrols after that, but every time he found himself done with any such little bit of battle-worthy activity – which was one of the utmost few things to do really while waiting inside the octagon in passive defence – he found himself turning around, surveying the fort’s interior, only to once more see that woman. For there, upon her great white bear, she sat, face worried, sad maybe even, eyes looking for something in the distance, maybe the telltale signs of what was going on, or perhaps she was following something from upon her higher position. Whatever it was, her gaze, her staring, it was really starting to get to him. It took several such repeated accidental noticings of her sitting there, but in the end, Infantry Corporal Steelstasch he had to admit that, he was starting to notice something. Something inside of himself. It was his heart, more precisely. Ever so slightly, he could feel it melting. He, the man with the beard of steel, he was losing his steel.
The man sighed. And paused some to think... It was time to act. The mood of worry was not just an eyesore to behold, it was also spreading fast amongst the soldiers and the merchants, many of whom were now also looking, with similar faces, out through the wagon cracks, out towards the other forts. He sighed again.
“Private Gemcut” he spoke, his body aimed at the dwarf so named, who was currently leaning against the middle of the wagon next over.
The enby straightened to attention immediately. “Corporal?”
Steelstasch stepped over and stopped in front of they. “I have a mission for you.”
“What is it?”
“I think that we should gather a little information about the ongoings of this battle. So, you are the most agile among us here on foot. Therefore, I want you get a couple of other fast ones together with you, and run up over to Corporal Rollingstone’s fort. Ask him how things are going if he’s not too occupied, and get back here quickly and safely.”
“Alright Corporal” Gemcut produced a swift nod, “I’ll get to it!”
The corporal walked back slowly, stopping next to Evenin on the way. The dwarf woman looked down towards the approaching man. “I’ve sent scouts.” He said. “We should know soon if anything of note is happening.” Evenin didn’t respond verbally, but merely bowed graciously on her great white one. Steelstasch continued walking over to the spot behind the wagon where he’d been seeking cover before. For a while he waited there, in thought and watching the arrows and bolts WOOOSH! by, mostly above him, but occassionally one also came through the cracks on the sides, or landed under the wagons.
After a while, he was starting to grow impatient at the never-endingness of the slow projectile rain. He decided to turn over towards another dwarf man some 2 meters away, who was peeking out at the enemy from behind the cover. “Private Keenstone?” The other dwarf, a ginger with an extra thick goatee for facial hair and some ginger sideburns, stopped peeking and turned to face his corporal.
“Hmm?”
“Seen anything?” Steelstach planted his shield in the ground and sheathed his handaxe. Leaning in on the shield, the man stroked his upper lip hair, then added: “Any ideas what they may be planning?”
“Hmm...” Private Keenstone cast eyes back beyond the cracks, and looked to be briefly thinking. “No corporal. There is lots of movement, and I’ve seen some large shapes crossing the field in the grass, but I can hardly discern what they are, or what is being planned. It might be possible–“
“CORPORAL!” It was the voice of Private Gemcut, and the corporal nearly swirled at the shout, surprised to see the enby back so soon. 2 jogging dwarf men followed at the first one’s heels.
“WE’RE HERE!” Gemcut exclaimed partially out of breath. The 2 others caught up within a few seconds, where they halted behind Gemcut rather abruptly. The 2 behind planted their shields into the ground, and leaned in, heaving heavily with massive breaths of air.
“Alright!” Steelstasch picked up his own shield and stepped up to the private. “Report?” He cast eyes to each of the soldiers in turn.
“WE’RE HERE!” Gemcut reiterated, less out-of-breath now, and with back straightened, as if the statement had been some complete and full explanation.
Corporal Steelstasch looked about, confused, and raised an eyebrow. “Yes... I can see that you are here, Private. Now, report!”
To Steelstasch’s yet more surprise, the private didn’t reply immediately, but instead quickly diverted their attention away from him as their eyes bulged at something. Meanwhile, Steelstach started to hear lots of shouting and yelling around the octagon.
“What is it?” He cast a glance towards the direction Gemcut had looked, but saw nothing. Then he looked around, hoping for someone to tell him. Nobody did. He looked back at Gemcut. “REPORT!” It came out like a demand. But Gemcut wasn’t looking at him at all, instead, walking up to him, they grabbed his left shoulder, and forcibly turned him on the spot.
“WEREHARE!” they pointed. Steelstasch followed the finger up and to the cloth-covered roof of a wagon. Atop there, a human-sized creature of fur, with ears the length of an elbow, and some nasty sharp protruding front teeth, crawled around with spying purpose, the creature’s crazed hare-like predatory eyes scouring the dwarves below.
“Werehare?” Corporal Steelstasch asked the air. Then, coming to his senses, his own heart jumped into a frenzy, and the man suddenly acutely aware of what he was now seeing, screamed out in a voice full of command. “WEREHARES! TO BATTLE EVERYONE, DEFEND THE FORT!”
The werebeast for its part acted almost like it it hadn’t been seen at all, or rather, like it didn’t care that it’d been seen. Instead, it rose into a crouch, as 2 other werebeast landed atop of the same wagon, and the scene went from 2 crazy predatory eyes watching them to 6.
“SHIELDS AND AXES READY!” Infantry Corporal Steelstasch unsheathed his own handaxe and jogged over to the wagon occupied by the werehares. Dwarves from all over the octagon came flocking over too, ready to kill the werebeast should any one of them dare to climb down.
But the werehares didn’t. Instead, other werehares started to land upon the roofs of another wagon, placed at a very different end of the octagon, and now many of the dwarves started flocking there too, leaving a sparser quantity of dwarves to guard the remaining directions.
As the furred kin continued to look down, and the metal-geared kin continued to look up, the former made few motions, while the latter started to grow agitated. Agitated, that is, with a nervous impatience bursting to come loose upon an enemy.
“COME DOWN AND FIGHT US YOU SCARED RABBITS!” one dwarf pointed challengingly with his handaxe.
“AYE-AYE!” another shouted, “have you only come to sit and watch us!? COME DOWN HERE AND FIGHT LIKE REAL WARRIORS!”
None of the werehares said anything in response. And as a dwarf with a crossbow fired a bolt in one of their’s direction, the werehare in question merely ducked, the bolt missing by quite a margin.
The mob of angry dwarf soldiers grew bigger, and louder, as the werehares, unarmed, but clad in leather armor with bits of connecting metal pieces, merely continued scouring any and all of the dwarves.
Then, one of the werehares, the first among them to have been spotted, jumped. It was a totally unexpected and incredible jump, the werebeast shooting through the air before landing several meters away, just outside of the largest concentration of dwarves. The landing itself came effortlessly and smooth, as 2 furry long, bare feet cushioned the contact with the ground. However, instead of merely stopping there, those same feet used their gathered momentum to continue going. Before anyone had even managed to fully register the new situation, the werehare sped past the few close by dwarves. And there, inside the octagon, started to run, fast, at a speed none present could even hope to remotely keep up with. For a moment, the whole octagon started joining in on one bi panicked chase. However, as circumstances would have it, the werehare wasn’t the one truly being chased. Because over the course of the next few seconds, it became clear to many that the creature wasn’t running at random, but had its eyes fixed and focused on one dwarf in particular. A sole male, shield in one hand, small axe in the other, and standing alone a few meters away from anyone else.
“What is it doing!?” Steelstasch asked as he watched the werehare race at the dwarf, who, understanding where the werehare was heading, merely put up his own large rectangular shield in defence. This though, would prove to be less than useful. For as the speeding werebeast closed in, its body full with visible and bulging muscles, the creature, in an instant, put both its legs together, and jumped once more. Like a huge catapulted projectile of its own, it aimed its whole self, feet going first, towards the top of the dwarf’s shield.
BONK!
The top of the shield connected with the soldier’s own head in a violent, sudden and crashing motion. The werehare meanwhile, having used both its feet in the collision with the shield, used the connection to the dwarf’s head to turn its own jump into a backwards flip. And so, as the dwarf came smashing into the ground, the werehare landed graciously and expertly in front of the soldier, whose fallen body didn’t move a muscle.
Dwarves who had already been running towards the werehare continued running, while the others tried to fully understand what had just happened. The werehare, though, lost no time standing around. Instead, with everyone’s eyes at it, it quickly ran over to the unconscious body, and bent down, lifting the dwarf’s seemingly unconscious body up, shield and axe slipping out of hands. The werehare, apparently very strong, seemed to have zero problem carrying the heavy body, but simply began running again, aiming for the first of the less guarded wagons in sight. Many dwarves ran as best they could to intercept the werehare now, but in its aim for an escape it curved around each and every one of them with ease, even dodging one dwarf who managed for a split second to interpose himself in the werebeast’s path. Soon, the furry creature had closed in on the wagon. There, in front of a small crowd of soldiers, blocking with their shields, and axes raised to cut it down, the werehare did not stop to think. Rather, it simply pushed extra hard at one step, putting both its feet together mid-air, before landing again and pulling its legs into a low position. From down there, it once again jumped, high above the dwarves, and onto the top of the wagon it had aimed for, this one filled and stacked tightly with barrels held together by rope.
As the creature subsequently vanished over the barrel-stack without looking back, Infantry Corporal Steelstasch came jogging over, a perplexed expression on his face.
“What just happened?” Private Gemcut, who was jogging next to him, asked. They both came to a halt, the corporal just looking at the vanishing spot where the werehare had just jumped away.
“I truly... don’t know...” He stood there for a few seconds, in thought, biting his own teeth. “This is new to me.” He turned to look at Gemstone, his face still in shock. Gemstone returned an expression only mildly less shocked. “They just abducted one of our privates. I have no idea what they’re planning, but we must adapt to this. There are more werehares watching us, and that one may be coming back for more of us. So, we must be ready, and not let it happen again!”
Private Gemstone nodded eagerly at him. But then: GRRRUUUH!
Infantry Corporal Steelstasch looked down at Private Gemstone’s belly. Private Gemstone looked down at their own belly. The enby looked back up at him, and grimaced, as their right hand touched the source of the pained sounds. “Corporal, I say this only because it is an unfortunate truth, but it might be slightly difficult to catch up to them, for all of us... on an empty belly.”