For home and glory

Lucan took a side step, swinging his weight around and pulling his axe along with it. With a vicious crunch he brought it down onto a dented helm, worn by a man who might’ve never even seen the blow coming. Lucan’s axe sliced through the metal of his helm and drove its way down to somewhere in between his eyes. The man’s body went limp and Lucan, already eyeing his next target, grunted wildly and pulled his axe free from the deadman’s skull.

Blue fire burst from her fingertips and melted chainmail armor worn in vain to the smoldering flesh of the men who dared approach her. Althaea’s strength, though weakened, had been awoken when she had seen her home get burned down to ash and embers. An arrow wizzed past her, barely missing her cheek. Althaea’s black eyes fell on the man drawing his bow back, ready to let go another arrow. Through gritted teeth she cursed him and looked on in delight as the archer’s bow suddenly turned into a venomous snake and bit him right on the tip of his nose. All the time while she fought, seeing riled up soldiers streaming out from the behind the shadows of the trees, Althaea felt Lucan’s presence looming over her. Any step she took he followed her, his axe slicing through enemies, one after another. With him by her side, she felt safe.

Cormac barked an order and pointed at a group of his men forming a shield wall. It was shoddy work, some of the men stood on trembling knees. Cormac had no such problem. He hadn’t had the time to throw on his bronze breastplate, but his squire had ran and found his broadsword, which he now used to cut down a golden haired youth, pissing his pants in fear of him. Cormac had known this day was bound to come, Madoc’s men had gradually been becoming more and more daring, his scouts crept ever closer to the Western Army’s camp. Now they were here and they damn near outnumbered them, yet still there was something that they clearly lacked. Cormac turned on his heal to strike a man who had thought to sneak up behind him, he pierced him through his gut and felt his blood stream onto his hands. Slowly but surely the Eastern Army began to falter, thinning out and running around without order. Madoc’s dogs, for all their ferociousness, lacked a true leader and now it seemed as if this issue would mean their defeat. Cormac howled like a wolf, warming the blood of his men, who echoed his cry and fought fiercer still. **** encircled them, the smell of it hung heavy in the air, yet the fight was not yet over. ‘For home and glory’ Cormac thought, pressing onwards.