In honor of Friday the 13th...

Sir Duncan clutched the sacred Templar banner and stared down at the scene of horror that spread out before him. Pouring out from the Black Forest was an army of foul beasts, their glowing eyes and wicked fangs gleaming in the morning light. Never before had so many wolves united in a single force.

"Can we hold out until reinforcements arrive?" Sir Berit's voice held little hope.

"We must." Duncan clapped Berit on his mailed shoulder. "Else the sacred relic fall into the hands of Utgar." He shuddered inwardly at the thought.

"Sir, my men and I shall meet them on the field of battle and, should fate smile upon us, drive them away." On any other man, Sir Dupuis' smile would have bordered on crazed, but the Knight had led his cavalry to many an improbable victory.

Duncan nodded and barked out orders, organizing what might be the final defense...