The tent stank of oiled leather, wet fur, and something older, like dried blood sunken too deep into the wood to scrub clean.

A broad strategy table dominated the center, a slab of dark, grainy oak veined with burn marks and shallow knife grooves. Lines were scratched into the surface (crudely carved topographies of cliff, marsh, and trench), each labeled in charcoal or scratched bone.

Over the battle map stood miniature effigies: lead knights without faces, carved wooden beasts with overlong teeth, and black marbles that represented unknown forces.

A few knights had been knocked over. No one had bothered to raise them, in a span of five days, their numbers had increased.

Surrounding the table stood commanders and sub-commanders, each draped in cloaks of wet wool and silent ambition.

At the head was Knight-Arcanists Holdo, arms folded, expression stone. Beside her stood Scioness Sophia, not in armor, but silk wrapped over scars, her green eyes calm, unreadable.

Seated to Holdo's right was Commander Olga, her face calm as she stared at the map.

There were other soldiers in the room, standing. One of these men was Cerberus, easily notable because of the distinction of his armor.

"What do we do then," Sophia suddenly spoke, her eyes narrowed as she expanded. "We can't be sure that these soldiers were killed by Skilions, maybe they were attacked by the surrounding clans."

"It's unlikely, High Scioness," Holdo said, pointing to the map. "You see this, this, and this, they are the only villages in the surrounding area, HUMAN villages, we can't have them feeding any of the Skilion-"

"Did you take into account the underground villages?" Olga interrupted, her tone grim.

"We searched, we're still searching, but we've found nothing so far. What course would you suggest we take, Legion Commander?" Holdo spoke with a sneer.

"You don't expect to understand the terrain more than the locals, monster attack is more likely, Knight-Arcanist," Olga responded calmly.

"And the Skilions would know where the humans are hiding more than our hounds? We stormed the place, there were no humans," Holdo retorted, his brows raised.

"It is common knowledge that Skilions are better at hunting humans, maybe it found a tribe," Olga mused.

"Normally, I would agree with your reasoning, it's sound," Holdo said, leaning into his chair. "But we have soldiers dead at two east and west of the Misty Marsh."

At the sound of Holdo's voice, Sophia remembered the events that had happened in the Misty Marsh, how she had almost been disgraced before being saved by...

"We should probably focus on the east side," Sophia suddenly called out, gaining attention.

"May I ask why you thought of such a proposition High Scioness?" Holdo asked, his eyes squinted.

"I-"

Before Sophia could speak, Olga interrupted. "The soldiers who could not report back from the Misty Marsh were killed defending the High Scioness, thereby granting the High Scioness time to escape."

'It's for the best if he knows nothing of the infernal Warlord,' she thought to herself.

In the face of such a lie, Holdo rose from his seat, his eyes locked on Olga who sat calmly. "And why did you only speak of this now?"

"It slipped my mind considering the amount of disrespect you've shown my title," Olga scoffed.

"I could-" the Knight-Arcanist stopped himself and took a breath before saying. "The riders from the Royalian Empire should be arriving today-"

"HONK!!!!!!"

The sound of a mighty war horn prompted Holdo to stop whatever he was doing and storm out of the tent, with everyone else following behind him.

Cerberus did stop to recover a large umbrella, the canopy made from oil treated leather, the frame of iron and the handle of wood.

He used this umbrella to cover Sophia so she didn't get wet in the ever-present drizzle of black rain.

Upon exiting the tent, one would notice how rowdy things were, soldiers heaving large barrels of oil, some donning their armor, others taking their battle stations.

"What's happening?" Sophia asked with furrowed brows, her arms shaking slightly at the thought of being invaded by enemies.

"We're under attack by a wave of Skilion," Holdo said with a grunt while looking into the distance, his eyes narrowed.

"My God," Olga muttered, gazing into the distance, observing as a large number of Skilions of about 50 to 60 stood there, in the open field, watching, waiting.

"You should head back, High Scioness. This is no place for you." Cerberus spoke grimly while unsheathing his blade.

Sophia, who had never seen such beasts before, failed to answer on time. Of course, she had seen them in books, but never in real life.

They had humanoid appearances, but their postures were hunched (almost predatory), their limbs thick and sinewy.

These beings possessed long webbed arms that dragged slightly when they swayed ending in razor-sharp silver claws.

Black, slick fur covered most of their bodies, but it was wet, soaked even, a result of the unending rain.

They all had long fins on their backs. Fins that glowed faintly and rippled like some sort of jellyfish, (their purpose unknown).

The top half of their face seemed bat-like, and they possessed huge black bulging eyes with no pupils that made it seem as though they were staring beyond you.

Their pointed ears twitched and turned as though looking for a certain sound, while the bottom half of their faces was skull-like with jagged outward-facing teeth visible to any observer.

"We hold until the commander arrives. Rashness serves only the enemy," Olga mouthed, her tone grim, and for once, Holdo did not protest; rather, he nodded, his eyes narrowed to slits.

Sophia, on the other hand, was led by Cerberus to the ends of the camp where he stood beside her, his form alert.

Everyone was in place, ten or so normal humans in front holding in place large barrels of oil, ready to push them down the sloping terrain towards the Whisper Stalkers.

Behind them were more men (red-eyed men) numbering about thirty, but these men wore no armor.

They looked malnourished, a firm metal collar bound to their neck, the other end firmly embedded into the ground. Their ankles were connected via another chain ensuring that they stayed put.

Even in their enslaved state, one could still feel the power that seemed out of their bulging muscles as they held their shields like statues, their eyes soulless, lacking the luster of free will.

Behind these men stood the real forces of the stronghold, sixty armored green-eyed soldiers, their swords upright as they braced themselves.

Above, stationed atop wooden watchtowers, were more soldiers garbed in light armor as they readied their bows.

The air was tense, it smelled of wet dog, oil, and iron, the kind that had begun to rust. Everyone waited, even the beasts seemed to be waiting for something.

Suddenly, a shrill could be heard from all directions, the sound deafening like a nail clawing at chalkboards.

The Skilion didn't seem to think so, though; rather, they lowered their already hunched frame, their glowing fins vibrating, (their eyes widening).

"Woooh!" A Skilion lunged forward, clawing at the ground with insane speed, but Holdo was ready; he had waited for this exact moment.

"RELEASE!" He yelled, his decisive command echoing throughout the battlefield.

The human slaves felt their hearts pounding against their chests as they saw the approaching beasts. They wanted to run, but they knew the men behind them would kill them if they did.

One particular slave, a dark-haired youth with brown eyes, ran back as soon as he released his barrel but grunted as he was pushed back into place by the red-eyed slave, his form hitting the wet stone with a violent roll down the slope.

"Swoosh!"

As he tumbled down the brown-haired youth heard the sound of the air tearing. Time seemed to slow as he saw long streaks of green in the air, deadly arrows streaking towards him.

"Argh, ohh God no," he cried, struggled, clawing at the ground and rocks, but he slipped. He could not regain his footing; murky oil from the barrel he had rolled down prevented him from doing so.

Then he suddenly saw a shadow above him, a Skilion had jumped past the rolling barrels and towards him.

"Bang!" The sound of an explosion cut the experience short the brown haired youth screaming in agony as he was engulfed by green flames, but his fate was irrelevant.

"Bang!"

"Bang!"

Looking up one would find that the archers atop the wooden watchtowers were firing arrow after arrow, each one engulfed in emerald green flames.

One particular archer, a woman with blonde hair tied in a ponytail, let out a misty breath.

She planted her feet, nocked the arrow, and raised the bow, the rolling barrels and the wave of beastial Skilion in her sight.

She took a deep breath, drew the string to her cheek, muscles straining against the heavy yew stave.

The glow in her emerald eyes intensified, and just as she released, she chanted: "Accendere!"

"Swoosh!

The arrowhead ignited in flames, as the string snapped forward, launching the arrow with a sharp hiss, the bow shuddering in her grip.

She followed its flight, already reaching for the next shaft, watching as the flaming arrow met with the rolling barrels of oil causing a large explosion.

Down below, the Skilions were upon them, after dismembering and eating the human slaves up front, few Skilions had perished from the exploding barrels.

"Brace! BRACE!" Knight-Arcanists Holdo grunted, his eyes narrowed, and his form alert; he did not panic despite being in such close proximity to the action.

Commander Olga, who was behind him, though, narrowed her eyes.

The red-eyed slaves up front lowered their form, their muscles tensing with adrenaline as they grunted. They had watched the humans before them become Skilion food.

But they had to prevent the same fate for themselves.

Rust-choked chains clanked as the slaves hefted their shields, a fleshy thunk sounding out as the Skilions collided with them.

One of these red-eyed slaves, a man with his chest bare, watched as one of the Skilions peeked through the gaps of his heavy shield, its abyss eyes narrowing.

"Clang!"

The sound of metal hitting metal could be heard as its silver claws slid through said gaps, piercing the skin in his forearm, but he just stood his ground.

It would seem that these men were unmovable, but as more Skilions approached, five, six, twenty. The force became too much.

Suddenly, one of the Skilions could be seen speeding through the slope on all fours, dodging arrow after arrow.

With a growl, it used one of its companions as a stepping stone and lunged over the shield formation, its maws snapping at one of the red-eyed men chained to the ground.

"Argh," a short gargle could be heard as a headless figure slumped to the ground, his shield leaving a dangerous space.

Skilions began to squeeze through, and the bare-chested man, watched as his companion got devoured one by one until-

"Growl," A Skilion caught his arm and clawed at his head riding his face of flesh (his sockets of eyes), the pain was abysmal.

As his world faded imperceptibly to black, all he could feel were the maws of the thing ripping out his organs.

Meanwhile, Knight-Arcanists Holdo braced himself, turning to Olga. "Think you can survive?"

"Ohh please I'm long past the level of fearing Skilions," She retorted as she unsheathed her blade.

"Triage man formation, advance!" Holdo suddenly yelled pointing his sword forward.

The soldiers wasted no time at his orders rushing to meet the wave of Skilions

"Blood for the Empire!" Olga also yelled rushing forward with Holdo following soon after.

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