DestroyerHive
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The mass grave was just ahead, although one couldn’t tell by looking at it. The ground was covered in a thick layer of white, which was continuously blown about by strong glacial winds. A large column of allied forces trudged through the knee-high snow. At their head, Sergeant Drake Alexander thought only of how much he wished to be back down South. Hell, even the Eastern Front would be better than this wasteland.
Whether out of duty to his brothers in arms, gratitude to his savior Jandar, or vengeance for a past offense, Drake could not refuse his Archkyrie’s latest mission: Slay the vampire lord Cyprien Esenwein. Years ago, the fiend had bested the sergeant in battle, wounding his right arm. He would have died too, if not for Raelin’s timely intervention. Now Cyprien sailed to the tundra, intending to invoke old Feylund magic to raise the hundreds of frozen warriors who perished on this battleground in ages past. Should he succeed, a massive army of the dead would descend on Jandar’s weak Northern flank and bring untold devastation.
This reverie was disrupted by the fwoosh of a black arrow, soaring past Drake’s head and clanging off the armor of the Tarn Viking behind him. He spun with veteran instinct and spotted dark shapes moving about a small nearby patch of forest. “Archers in the trees!” Drake shouted, drawing the Katana of Thorian from its scabbard. He charged toward the tree line as fast as his legs could carry him through the snow. Arrows whizzed out to meet the US marine’s advance. Bolstered by supernatural speed bestowed upon the wielder of the magical blade, Drake dodged and weaved through the torrent of projectiles with expert grace.
The ground rumbled as Vikings boots hit the snow, Nordic war cries howling from their throats. Shadows scattered from the trees deeper into the woods in a panicked retreat. Pausing at the threshold of the forest, the sergeant looked back at the rest of his forces. They did not follow. The samurai commander in gold armor at the head of the group nodded and motioned that he would continue leading the army forward.
Kaemon Awa was an ambitious warrior. Hardened by years of battlefield experience both on Earth and Valhalla, he knew that diverting more forces to deal with the ambushers would only waste time and delay the mission. The sergeant and his barbarians would deal with the archers just fine. Kaemon’s goal was bigger – he had a vampire to kill. Claiming the head of this fierce and skilled warrior would bring great honor to his name.
At his back marched a group of blue armored warriors from his own time – samurai of the Kozuke dynasty. They were reckless and arrogant, but skilled with the sword. Behind them slithered a larger force of slimy snake-like creatures from another world. Their serpentine movements made his skin crawl, but they proved effective in traversing the snow without hindrance.
A moment passed when the blizzard gave way. Kaemon spied sight of the enemy force. Among them were dozens upon dozens of the spear wielding Drones of the Marro. They stood still as statues and were covered in snow, inactive until ordered otherwise. To the North of the group was the unmistakable red armor and cape of their leader, lord Esenwein himself. His hands were covered in dark red blood, which he drew from a barrel and scattered upon the snow about him. The ritual circle was being prepared and if Kaemon did not act quickly, it would be too late to stop.
The Tarn Vikings pounded ahead of Drake with berserker fury, shouting taunts at the fleeing enemy. Suddenly, flashes of movement caught them off guard. Many blue shapes jumped out from behind the trees, setting upon Jandar’s warriors with wicked blades. A few Vikings fell to the ground, taken unawares by the sudden and savage assault. The others raised shields and counter pushed into the ambushers, howling battle oaths as they hacked and stabbed. The orcs howled back, swinging with deft cuts of their own, dodging and weaving between the Vikings’ strikes with unnatural nimbleness. The battle appeared to be at a standstill, with the Vikings’ superior combat experience holding out against the numerically superior and more agile foes.
A Blade Grut with tattered leather amor and a jagged cleaver slipped past the guard of a spear-wielding Tarn warrior, just to find itself skewered on the blade of Thorian. It looked down at the length of steel protruding from its chest before keeling over. Drake drew his pistol in his offhand and ran to the defense of another Viking warrior who was beset by three orcs. He slashed through one and blasted the other with a point-blank shot to the heart. The Viking swiftly cut down the remaining opponent. “Thor guide you, brother,” he said before rushing into the fray.
A Grut leapt upon the back of a Tarn warrior, bearing him to the ground while another impaled him with its sword. Drake roared in anger and cut down both with swift strikes of his blade. Turning back to the swirling melee, he noticed a group of gangly orcs gathering in the distance, notching arrows into their bows. Without hesitation, he aimed his grapple arm at a distant tree and fired. They would not get a chance to loose.
Attacking the enemy force directly, despite the Kozuke’s insistence, would be unwise: Kaemon’s forces were greatly outnumbered. He instructed the Venoc Vipers to circle around the enemy force’s left flank, using the blizzard as cover. He would circle North to a rock outcrop that overlooked the valley and end their lord with one sure arrow strike. Then, the combined force of samurai and Vipers will descend on the leaderless enemy force and tear through their ranks, bringing about a decisive victory.
The minutes froze as sure as the ice beneath Kaemon’s feet. Sneaking past the dimwitted Marro through the blizzard was child’s play, and it wasn’t long before he found himself atop the vantage point. No sounds of battle could be heard, confirming that he did well to trust the Vipers’ stealth capabilities. The mark below seemed to have finished his inscriptions upon the snow and strode toward the center of the blood circle with calm elegance. This was Kaemon’s only chance. The bow string drew back as he sighted the target. Adjust for wind direction and… loose. The arrow sailed through the gale. For an eternal moment, Kaemon watched the missile plummet toward the red and black figure of the vampire lord. It impacted cleanly in the snow. Cyprien was gone.
Like an apparition, the enemy appeared at his left flank, silver swords flashing toward his throat. Kaemon dropped the bow and drew his katana just in time to deflect the strike with a resounding clang. “Your reflexes are fast, assassin, but I am faster,” the vampire purred through a thick accent, bearing a fanged grin. The samurai held his blade in a defensive stance, bracing for the next assault. The vampire dashed in again, and the combatants’ blades danced.
Sergeant Drake soared through the air and into the mass of Arrow Gruts. He disengaged the grapple and laid into the enemy with sword and pistol. Some of the braver orcs drew daggers and swiped at him clumsily, but the marine was too quick for their feeble strikes to land. He dispatched them with clinical ease. Many of the Gruts took off running into the blizzard. Drake grit his teeth and raised the sidearm, firing and downing several of the retreating foes. He resented shooting an enemy in the back but knew that he couldn’t risk them regrouping.
Wiping sweat from his brow, he turned back to the battle, pleased but unsurprised, to see that the Tarn Vikings were winning. Once the Blade Gruts’ initial surprise attack ended, the advantage went to the superior fighters. It wasn’t long until these orcs, too, ran into the white wasteland. “Come back and die a warrior’s death!” one of the Vikings shouted. “That’s enough – we’ve wasted enough time here already. Greater enemies wait to test your mettle. These scraps aren’t a worthy challenge,” the sergeant said calmly.
Arriving at the objective location, all hell had broken loose. To the South, the small group of samurai were locked in combat with a horde of corpulent Marro Drones, who surged against the pocket of resistance like an enraged swarm of hornets. To the West, a huge mass of green bodies waited. The Vipers received no orders to attack and could neither see nor hear the battle due to the violent winds. On a rock outcrop to the North, three blades flashed as two of the greatest warriors in Valhalla dueled in mortal combat. “Aw crap,” he cursed. He’d fought with the vampire before and knew that, despite Kaemon’s incredible skill, he would not win. Turning to the Vikings, Drake instructed them to assist the samurai. He had a score to settle.
Sergeant Drake Alexander ran as fast as he could when the snow-covered ground gave way to a thick sheet of clear blue ice. Below it, he could feel a deep rumbling. An enormous dark shape materialized beneath the surface, and he dove aside just in time. Ice exploded outward as a gigantic, fleshy serpent broke the surface, shrieking into the cold air. He rolled to his feet to see two orb-like black eyes fixing on him. The creature towered over twice his height and bore the trademark skeletal features of the Marro. It reared its head back in preparation to strike as Drake raised the Katana of Thorian.
Parry, strike, dodge, repeat. Kaemon Awa expertly deflected the vampire’s blows but could land none of his own. His opponent was lightning-fast and did not tire. Kaemon, on the other hand, was quick becoming aware of his human limitations. With both combatants possessing roughly equal skill, the victor would be decided by he who could outlast the other. With exhaustion setting in, it became painfully obvious who that would be.
He risked a glance at the state of the battlefield. His Kozuke warriors were fighting valiantly against a sea of enemies, their flashing blades the only thing holding back the corpulent tide. Jandar’s barbarians were charging toward the fray, but even their timely arrival may not be enough. Nearby, the American champion, and his only salvation, was about to become food for a monstrous creature. But wait… something was changing: Ullar’s Vipers were on the move…
Fury boiled deep within her chest. The wailing of dozens of hatchlings resounded in her mind. She remembered how, on Marr, her brood was slain with impunity by the invaders from the swamp. She’d seen their horrific creatures before, but this abomination… it burned the soul. Like an enormous Viper corpse, the serpentine Hivelord was a mockery of all her people. Made in their image but distorted and enlarged like a monument to the thousands who had been killed. Fire pulsing through her veins, the Viper surged across the snow as fast as her tail would carry her, screaming with bloodlust.
Sergeant Drake leapt to the side as the creature lunged, narrowly avoiding its extended, fanged jaws. He slashed at the creature’s head, cutting a gash across its brow and spilling rancid brown blood. The snake shrieked and bashed its head into Drake, knocking him over. The Katana of Thorian flew from his grasp and embedded into the snow. He cursed and drew for his sidearm, but the monstrosity was too quick, coiling its scaled bulk around the sergeant with incredible speed.
He struggled to free the pistol from its holster, but the enemy held him with crushing force. His arms were pinned as the beast constricted. He craned his neck to look at the predatory face above him, massive and hungry. In a few more seconds, his bones would be completely shattered. Drake’s vision darkened and a feeling of weightlessness began to take hold. So, this is how I die… he thought.
Suddenly, a rain of thin green forms leapt onto the creature, biting and tearing into its pale flesh. The creature screeched and uncoiled, rolling over to dislodge the clinging pests. It lunged into the oncoming horde, catching one in its jaws. Even in death, the Viper shredded at the Hivelord’s face with tooth and claw. As the color returned to Drake’s vision, he hastened to his gleaming blade.
The beast was covered in slippery green creatures, and by the ferocity of its thrashing, could not hold out much longer. Drake reached the magic sword and pulled it from the ground. Thorian’s speed flooded through him and time seemed to slow. For a long second, an enormous black eye appeared in front of the sergeant. Their gazes met and he stabbed with all his might. An ear-piercing shriek shook the ground. Still covered in biting Vipers, the creature threw itself back into the hole from which it emerged, returning to the depths. Now the way was clear. It was time to end this.
The clanging of blades grew louder, which meant that Kaemon was still alive. Drake aimed his grapple arm at the rock ledge and fired. He soared upward and disengaged the hook, coming to a rolling stop atop the outcrop. Both duelists threw him glances, but did not dare take their eyes off each other for too long. A moment’s hesitation could mean their end.
“I’m back to finish what we started, bloodsucker,” Drake taunted. “Indeed, you are. The wound has not healed completely, I see,” Cyprien retorted smoothly. Drake lunged with the enchanted blade in a downward thrust, which was knocked aside by one of the vampire’s swords while the other stabbed for his throat. A deft turn saw the thrust pass by a hair, leaving a thin line of red on his neck. The samurai champion wasted no time, swinging in with a series of blows, drawing the vampire’s attention. Drake capitalized on the distraction and lay in with a flurry of his own. Now beset by two foes of incredible skill and agility, the vampire seemed unsure of himself. Thorian’s blade bit under the vampire’s right pauldron and Kaemon’s katana scored a slash across his waist. Cyprien backed off with lightning speed. He stood with blades held out, but his stance betrayed weakness.
The two heroes looked at each other and nodded. Words were not needed to convey what had to be done. Both charged with battle cries and raised swords. The vampire fought like the devil possessed but could not fend off both katanas at once. More cuts got through his guard, scoring his chest and arms. Cyprien’s advantage was lost. A daring move was needed to put an end to this fight. He bared his fangs and howled in desperation, flying forward at the sergeant, blades poised for his sword arm.
Kaemon intercepted the charge with a swing, knocking the foe off balance and sending him sprawling to the ground. A painful gasp left his lips as a length of metal was plunged through his back where his heart was. Or would be, if he was human…
Kaemon Awa stood triumphantly over the vampire, drawing his blade out of the fallen enemy. “Watch out!” Drake warned, but it was too late. The vampire twisted around and grabbed the samurai’s arm, biting deep with enlarged fangs. Before the warrior could react, Cyprien was gone, much of his strength returned.
The fiend licked blood off his lips and grinned. “It seems that you have me at a disadvantage. I concede this fight, but we will meet again someday, and when we do, you will have my kin to answer to.” “I look forward to it,” Drake responded, not letting his guard down. The vampire lord turned and disappeared into the swirling blizzard.
The aftermath of the battle was a one-sided slaughter. Kaemon, angered by the cowardly retreat of his mark, unleashed his rage upon the dwindling force of Marro Drones, felling many with rapid arrow strikes. The Kozuke samurai, bolstered by the timely arrival of the Tarn Vikings, screamed war cries and laid into the foe with warrior spirit. Katanas, broadswords, and spears slashed and stabbed, carving through the Marro ranks with ease. The Venoc Vipers brought a conclusive end to the fight, charging into the mass of putrescent Drones with savagery, biting and tearing until the last one fell to the blood-drenched snow and the howling blizzard finally rested.
Whether out of duty to his brothers in arms, gratitude to his savior Jandar, or vengeance for a past offense, Drake could not refuse his Archkyrie’s latest mission: Slay the vampire lord Cyprien Esenwein. Years ago, the fiend had bested the sergeant in battle, wounding his right arm. He would have died too, if not for Raelin’s timely intervention. Now Cyprien sailed to the tundra, intending to invoke old Feylund magic to raise the hundreds of frozen warriors who perished on this battleground in ages past. Should he succeed, a massive army of the dead would descend on Jandar’s weak Northern flank and bring untold devastation.
This reverie was disrupted by the fwoosh of a black arrow, soaring past Drake’s head and clanging off the armor of the Tarn Viking behind him. He spun with veteran instinct and spotted dark shapes moving about a small nearby patch of forest. “Archers in the trees!” Drake shouted, drawing the Katana of Thorian from its scabbard. He charged toward the tree line as fast as his legs could carry him through the snow. Arrows whizzed out to meet the US marine’s advance. Bolstered by supernatural speed bestowed upon the wielder of the magical blade, Drake dodged and weaved through the torrent of projectiles with expert grace.
The ground rumbled as Vikings boots hit the snow, Nordic war cries howling from their throats. Shadows scattered from the trees deeper into the woods in a panicked retreat. Pausing at the threshold of the forest, the sergeant looked back at the rest of his forces. They did not follow. The samurai commander in gold armor at the head of the group nodded and motioned that he would continue leading the army forward.
Kaemon Awa was an ambitious warrior. Hardened by years of battlefield experience both on Earth and Valhalla, he knew that diverting more forces to deal with the ambushers would only waste time and delay the mission. The sergeant and his barbarians would deal with the archers just fine. Kaemon’s goal was bigger – he had a vampire to kill. Claiming the head of this fierce and skilled warrior would bring great honor to his name.
At his back marched a group of blue armored warriors from his own time – samurai of the Kozuke dynasty. They were reckless and arrogant, but skilled with the sword. Behind them slithered a larger force of slimy snake-like creatures from another world. Their serpentine movements made his skin crawl, but they proved effective in traversing the snow without hindrance.
A moment passed when the blizzard gave way. Kaemon spied sight of the enemy force. Among them were dozens upon dozens of the spear wielding Drones of the Marro. They stood still as statues and were covered in snow, inactive until ordered otherwise. To the North of the group was the unmistakable red armor and cape of their leader, lord Esenwein himself. His hands were covered in dark red blood, which he drew from a barrel and scattered upon the snow about him. The ritual circle was being prepared and if Kaemon did not act quickly, it would be too late to stop.
The Tarn Vikings pounded ahead of Drake with berserker fury, shouting taunts at the fleeing enemy. Suddenly, flashes of movement caught them off guard. Many blue shapes jumped out from behind the trees, setting upon Jandar’s warriors with wicked blades. A few Vikings fell to the ground, taken unawares by the sudden and savage assault. The others raised shields and counter pushed into the ambushers, howling battle oaths as they hacked and stabbed. The orcs howled back, swinging with deft cuts of their own, dodging and weaving between the Vikings’ strikes with unnatural nimbleness. The battle appeared to be at a standstill, with the Vikings’ superior combat experience holding out against the numerically superior and more agile foes.
A Blade Grut with tattered leather amor and a jagged cleaver slipped past the guard of a spear-wielding Tarn warrior, just to find itself skewered on the blade of Thorian. It looked down at the length of steel protruding from its chest before keeling over. Drake drew his pistol in his offhand and ran to the defense of another Viking warrior who was beset by three orcs. He slashed through one and blasted the other with a point-blank shot to the heart. The Viking swiftly cut down the remaining opponent. “Thor guide you, brother,” he said before rushing into the fray.
A Grut leapt upon the back of a Tarn warrior, bearing him to the ground while another impaled him with its sword. Drake roared in anger and cut down both with swift strikes of his blade. Turning back to the swirling melee, he noticed a group of gangly orcs gathering in the distance, notching arrows into their bows. Without hesitation, he aimed his grapple arm at a distant tree and fired. They would not get a chance to loose.
Attacking the enemy force directly, despite the Kozuke’s insistence, would be unwise: Kaemon’s forces were greatly outnumbered. He instructed the Venoc Vipers to circle around the enemy force’s left flank, using the blizzard as cover. He would circle North to a rock outcrop that overlooked the valley and end their lord with one sure arrow strike. Then, the combined force of samurai and Vipers will descend on the leaderless enemy force and tear through their ranks, bringing about a decisive victory.
The minutes froze as sure as the ice beneath Kaemon’s feet. Sneaking past the dimwitted Marro through the blizzard was child’s play, and it wasn’t long before he found himself atop the vantage point. No sounds of battle could be heard, confirming that he did well to trust the Vipers’ stealth capabilities. The mark below seemed to have finished his inscriptions upon the snow and strode toward the center of the blood circle with calm elegance. This was Kaemon’s only chance. The bow string drew back as he sighted the target. Adjust for wind direction and… loose. The arrow sailed through the gale. For an eternal moment, Kaemon watched the missile plummet toward the red and black figure of the vampire lord. It impacted cleanly in the snow. Cyprien was gone.
Like an apparition, the enemy appeared at his left flank, silver swords flashing toward his throat. Kaemon dropped the bow and drew his katana just in time to deflect the strike with a resounding clang. “Your reflexes are fast, assassin, but I am faster,” the vampire purred through a thick accent, bearing a fanged grin. The samurai held his blade in a defensive stance, bracing for the next assault. The vampire dashed in again, and the combatants’ blades danced.
Sergeant Drake soared through the air and into the mass of Arrow Gruts. He disengaged the grapple and laid into the enemy with sword and pistol. Some of the braver orcs drew daggers and swiped at him clumsily, but the marine was too quick for their feeble strikes to land. He dispatched them with clinical ease. Many of the Gruts took off running into the blizzard. Drake grit his teeth and raised the sidearm, firing and downing several of the retreating foes. He resented shooting an enemy in the back but knew that he couldn’t risk them regrouping.
Wiping sweat from his brow, he turned back to the battle, pleased but unsurprised, to see that the Tarn Vikings were winning. Once the Blade Gruts’ initial surprise attack ended, the advantage went to the superior fighters. It wasn’t long until these orcs, too, ran into the white wasteland. “Come back and die a warrior’s death!” one of the Vikings shouted. “That’s enough – we’ve wasted enough time here already. Greater enemies wait to test your mettle. These scraps aren’t a worthy challenge,” the sergeant said calmly.
Arriving at the objective location, all hell had broken loose. To the South, the small group of samurai were locked in combat with a horde of corpulent Marro Drones, who surged against the pocket of resistance like an enraged swarm of hornets. To the West, a huge mass of green bodies waited. The Vipers received no orders to attack and could neither see nor hear the battle due to the violent winds. On a rock outcrop to the North, three blades flashed as two of the greatest warriors in Valhalla dueled in mortal combat. “Aw crap,” he cursed. He’d fought with the vampire before and knew that, despite Kaemon’s incredible skill, he would not win. Turning to the Vikings, Drake instructed them to assist the samurai. He had a score to settle.
Sergeant Drake Alexander ran as fast as he could when the snow-covered ground gave way to a thick sheet of clear blue ice. Below it, he could feel a deep rumbling. An enormous dark shape materialized beneath the surface, and he dove aside just in time. Ice exploded outward as a gigantic, fleshy serpent broke the surface, shrieking into the cold air. He rolled to his feet to see two orb-like black eyes fixing on him. The creature towered over twice his height and bore the trademark skeletal features of the Marro. It reared its head back in preparation to strike as Drake raised the Katana of Thorian.
Parry, strike, dodge, repeat. Kaemon Awa expertly deflected the vampire’s blows but could land none of his own. His opponent was lightning-fast and did not tire. Kaemon, on the other hand, was quick becoming aware of his human limitations. With both combatants possessing roughly equal skill, the victor would be decided by he who could outlast the other. With exhaustion setting in, it became painfully obvious who that would be.
He risked a glance at the state of the battlefield. His Kozuke warriors were fighting valiantly against a sea of enemies, their flashing blades the only thing holding back the corpulent tide. Jandar’s barbarians were charging toward the fray, but even their timely arrival may not be enough. Nearby, the American champion, and his only salvation, was about to become food for a monstrous creature. But wait… something was changing: Ullar’s Vipers were on the move…
Fury boiled deep within her chest. The wailing of dozens of hatchlings resounded in her mind. She remembered how, on Marr, her brood was slain with impunity by the invaders from the swamp. She’d seen their horrific creatures before, but this abomination… it burned the soul. Like an enormous Viper corpse, the serpentine Hivelord was a mockery of all her people. Made in their image but distorted and enlarged like a monument to the thousands who had been killed. Fire pulsing through her veins, the Viper surged across the snow as fast as her tail would carry her, screaming with bloodlust.
Sergeant Drake leapt to the side as the creature lunged, narrowly avoiding its extended, fanged jaws. He slashed at the creature’s head, cutting a gash across its brow and spilling rancid brown blood. The snake shrieked and bashed its head into Drake, knocking him over. The Katana of Thorian flew from his grasp and embedded into the snow. He cursed and drew for his sidearm, but the monstrosity was too quick, coiling its scaled bulk around the sergeant with incredible speed.
He struggled to free the pistol from its holster, but the enemy held him with crushing force. His arms were pinned as the beast constricted. He craned his neck to look at the predatory face above him, massive and hungry. In a few more seconds, his bones would be completely shattered. Drake’s vision darkened and a feeling of weightlessness began to take hold. So, this is how I die… he thought.
Suddenly, a rain of thin green forms leapt onto the creature, biting and tearing into its pale flesh. The creature screeched and uncoiled, rolling over to dislodge the clinging pests. It lunged into the oncoming horde, catching one in its jaws. Even in death, the Viper shredded at the Hivelord’s face with tooth and claw. As the color returned to Drake’s vision, he hastened to his gleaming blade.
The beast was covered in slippery green creatures, and by the ferocity of its thrashing, could not hold out much longer. Drake reached the magic sword and pulled it from the ground. Thorian’s speed flooded through him and time seemed to slow. For a long second, an enormous black eye appeared in front of the sergeant. Their gazes met and he stabbed with all his might. An ear-piercing shriek shook the ground. Still covered in biting Vipers, the creature threw itself back into the hole from which it emerged, returning to the depths. Now the way was clear. It was time to end this.
The clanging of blades grew louder, which meant that Kaemon was still alive. Drake aimed his grapple arm at the rock ledge and fired. He soared upward and disengaged the hook, coming to a rolling stop atop the outcrop. Both duelists threw him glances, but did not dare take their eyes off each other for too long. A moment’s hesitation could mean their end.
“I’m back to finish what we started, bloodsucker,” Drake taunted. “Indeed, you are. The wound has not healed completely, I see,” Cyprien retorted smoothly. Drake lunged with the enchanted blade in a downward thrust, which was knocked aside by one of the vampire’s swords while the other stabbed for his throat. A deft turn saw the thrust pass by a hair, leaving a thin line of red on his neck. The samurai champion wasted no time, swinging in with a series of blows, drawing the vampire’s attention. Drake capitalized on the distraction and lay in with a flurry of his own. Now beset by two foes of incredible skill and agility, the vampire seemed unsure of himself. Thorian’s blade bit under the vampire’s right pauldron and Kaemon’s katana scored a slash across his waist. Cyprien backed off with lightning speed. He stood with blades held out, but his stance betrayed weakness.
The two heroes looked at each other and nodded. Words were not needed to convey what had to be done. Both charged with battle cries and raised swords. The vampire fought like the devil possessed but could not fend off both katanas at once. More cuts got through his guard, scoring his chest and arms. Cyprien’s advantage was lost. A daring move was needed to put an end to this fight. He bared his fangs and howled in desperation, flying forward at the sergeant, blades poised for his sword arm.
Kaemon intercepted the charge with a swing, knocking the foe off balance and sending him sprawling to the ground. A painful gasp left his lips as a length of metal was plunged through his back where his heart was. Or would be, if he was human…
Kaemon Awa stood triumphantly over the vampire, drawing his blade out of the fallen enemy. “Watch out!” Drake warned, but it was too late. The vampire twisted around and grabbed the samurai’s arm, biting deep with enlarged fangs. Before the warrior could react, Cyprien was gone, much of his strength returned.
The fiend licked blood off his lips and grinned. “It seems that you have me at a disadvantage. I concede this fight, but we will meet again someday, and when we do, you will have my kin to answer to.” “I look forward to it,” Drake responded, not letting his guard down. The vampire lord turned and disappeared into the swirling blizzard.
The aftermath of the battle was a one-sided slaughter. Kaemon, angered by the cowardly retreat of his mark, unleashed his rage upon the dwindling force of Marro Drones, felling many with rapid arrow strikes. The Kozuke samurai, bolstered by the timely arrival of the Tarn Vikings, screamed war cries and laid into the foe with warrior spirit. Katanas, broadswords, and spears slashed and stabbed, carving through the Marro ranks with ease. The Venoc Vipers brought a conclusive end to the fight, charging into the mass of putrescent Drones with savagery, biting and tearing until the last one fell to the blood-drenched snow and the howling blizzard finally rested.
