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“Shields! Shields!” Screamed the Baron from the ramparts above as javelins came raining down from the sky above. Their origin was the numerous lines of Norsemen who had lined themselves up at the base of the hill. It was thanks to the height that the blows were manageable, the rods of wood coming at the defenders far weaker than they had left the hands of the attackers.
“Ready weapons!” Called out the Baron as numerous archers who were hiding underneath the shieldbearers laid bare their weapons to the sky. The battlefield was a soft greenish white as both moons hand in the sky at a half crest. It was just enough for the men of the battlefield to see each other, and Norscans did not really care for who they drew blood from.
“Fire!” Yelled the Baron and a rain of arrows were sent across the battlefield onto the advancing horde of maraders below. Their ranks were cut down effectively as the projectiles each dug into their lightly armored flesh. Where the Albion folk wore leather and some metal, there was barely anything upon the bare chests of the worshippers of Chaos.
After all, it did not matter what happened, all that did matter was that the blood flowed for The Hound.
For Lucian, who was upon the ground, was at the gates as the monsters behind them rattled against it. He had not seen them but it was said that wolf-men of some kind were currently slamming their claws into the gates trying to break them apart. To tear them apart so that the main force could easily breach them.
They were all prepared for battle, the Baron getting everyone here so that when the gates did give that they might repel what was to come through them. Many were praying, some where hoping, and others were simply thirsting for the potential battle that was to come.
Lucian could tell that Bok was of the later. The creature’s eyes focused wide as if keeping back the desire to simply throw himself at the gate and tear it apart. It knew what it needed to do, but those primal instincts were itching at it.
He could feel it himself, the rune now etched into his skin sparking a feeling of anger and wroth. It was ready to fight, but without seeing the enemy yet it would simply simmer
>Give a prayer
>Focus on containing the Rune
>Keep the Kroxigor calm
