“Form a line! Those with shields and armor to the front now!” Iphiclus roared out commands, a valiant attempt to get the soldiers in a proper position to fight off the beasts. With the biggest cause of concern, the Direwolves which reports from the front had stated as around the size of a horse. If that were to be believed, then it was bound to be the alpha of the pack, an ancient monster like that would have needed many kills to get that size while possessing a considerable level of cunning to have survived for so long.

This ability, this almost human level of cunning could be noticed in the way that the pack reacted to the soldiers. After their initial breach of the camp, they hadn’t attacked. Instead, they dispersed their numbers, their shadows could be seen fanning out to both the right and left, refusing to charge directly into the waiting line of spears.

The normal wolves stood at the forefront, baring their teeth at the human soldiers across from them, snouts bloody, pieces of torn flesh hanging. This sight and the sight of the beasts tearing apart their comrades’ lifeless bodies before their eyes caused the soldiers to waver, even worse were the pony or horse sized wolves at the rear, pacing back and forth while eying the front line, their lack of aggression far more nerve wracking than that of the regular wolves. Worse still for the defenders was that their commander was nowhere to be seen, Iphiclus could keep their formation firm for now, but Menos was nowhere to be found.

“Hold the line men! Do not allow these beasts to breach our line… prepare to cut them down!” As if Iphiclus’s roar was a signal the two sides clashed once again, not anywhere near as lopsidedly as before. Though their knees may have been shaking, it was clear that death alone awaited those who fled, so they held the line, spears angled upward to skewer any charging beast.

Unable to contain themselves any longer the wolves charged forward, lines of ravenous beasts smashing into the shields of the force arrayed against them. Some crying out in pain as they were impaled upon the end of a spear, the combined force of the charge helping to press the bronze tips deep into their flesh. Others in the line were less fortunate, the mass of the wolves bowling them over, opening holes in their sparse shield wall formation, with those thrown to the ground having their heads snapped up in the waiting jaws.

The beasts were attacking in a frenzy, giving no care for their own losses, using the corpses of their packmates to dive deeper within the center of the formation arrayed against them. Focused instead on ripping apart the bipedal creatures surrounding them.

Iphiclus and his forces had been unaware of the infiltrators who had snuck into their camp, doubly so of the items planted within their camp, the very presence of which drove the pack into a frenzied rage. Blood soiled the earth, limbs of men and beast strewn across the blood-soaked grounds, the screams, and howls of the dead and dying could be heard in all directions. Yet the tide did turn, possessing the numerical advantage and with the element of surprise having worn off the beasts began to lose steam. Groups of three soldiers armed with swords or spears would pile on and hack at the large creatures, taking some losses in the process but quickly moving to assist in taking down another.

At this moment, the moment the tides shifted, and the humans had begun to push against the horde of fur and claws their front line collapsed. Five breaches in their line were created, men thrown left and right, with those standing in the rear crushed underfoot or having their bodies ripped in half, blood spurting like a fountain into the air. The pack leaders had entered the fray, soaking in the lifeblood of their prey the Direwolves had punched through the shoddily assembled ranks, and like foxes released into a hen house they went to work.

“HOLD THE LINE! DO NOT FALTER! SPEARMEN SURROUND THE BEASTS!” Iphiclus who was in the center of the fighting thrusted his spear into an unguarded flank, bringing down another wolf and stabilizing his area. Yet the rest of the areas were descending into complete chaos. The monstrous Direwolves caused panic and death wherever they went, ten men working together would have been capable of bringing such a beast down, but in the chaos of battle there was opportunity for the men to encircle and whittle down the monstrosities.

“COMMANDER WATCH OUT!” One of the nearby soldiers rushed forward, pushing Iphiclus to the ground just as an arrow whistled overhead penetrating the skull of another soldier standing at the front.

“ENEMY ARCHERS!” Almost as soon Iphiclus yelled out his warning, the whistling of dozens of arrows cutting through the night sky could be heard. The ranged attacks came down indiscriminately, falling into the quagmire of combat, both soldiers and beasts receiving the downpour of serrated arrow tips.

This first attack was rapidly followed by another, this time coated in oiled rags, the flaming tips briefly illuminating the squad of riders perched upon a minor hillock at the rear of the camp. The raiders wasting no time before unleashing their barrage on several structures, specifically the supplies, command tent, and stable grounds. Fires began to smolder, forcing soldiers to break away from the fighting in an attempt to stamp out the growing flames, and to save the horses and supplies from destruction.

A shift in the ebb and flow of the battle that did not go unnoticed, like the tip of a spear the wolves tore through the weakened defensive lines, throwing everything into chaos once again. Only death and the screams of the dying could be heard over the din of battle, gnashing jaws met metal as the two sides struggled for survival and dominance.

A struggle further muddied by the raiders; the ten riders were aware of the inability of the soldiers below to engage them. Dismounting from their mounts, the men and women plunged their handful of arrows into the ground before taking up a firing position at the top of the hillock. Possessing both the high ground and a boxed in enemy force, the archers let loose, continuing their rain of concentrated arrow fire. With every shot they would dislodge one of the arrows from the earth and fire again in rapid succession.

“Captain! How should we deal with the men on the hill! We can’t just leave them to fire at our backs!” One of the command staff soldiers yelled to Iphiclus, his voice barely able to be heard over the sound of battle. “We don’t have a choice, if we break off any more from the enemy in front we will be overwhelmed. Even if we did charge them, they would just mount their horses and ride away. Without our cavalry prepared we have no means of forcing a favorable engagement… Focus on what…” Iphiclus was caught unawares as something came barreling into their formation. Men were tossed left and right, as if struck by a tumbling wagon, the young soldier who had spoken first was gone, his bottom half dangling from half closed jaws.

“SHIELDS AND SPEARS TO THE FRONT NOW!” One of the Direwolf pack leaders had arrived, its body covered in hundreds of tiny cuts and scars, even a spear or two buried in its flanks. Fur matted with blood and jaws coated in the entrails of the deceased, the creature was the image of bestial ferocity. Thrashing its head side to side the beast finished tearing its unfortunate victim in half before turning towards the handful of men, Iphiclus included arrayed against it.

It was one thing to order the men to stand firm against such a creature, and it was another to stand before it yourself in all its primal glory. The men, well trained elites though they might be could not help but shiver under the gaze of such a predatory monster. Its steely eyed gaze promising a vicious and painful end, yet the command staff held firm, slowly moving into position, spears held parallel to the earth in a thrusting motion.

However, before they could close the encirclement one of the soldiers acted prematurely, stabbing his spear into the thigh of the daunting beast while it was focused on consuming its victim. The creature wasted no time, its front left paw coming around in a powerful swipe, slamming into the soldier’s undefended right flank. Even if he had been able to get his shield into position in time, he alone did not have the strength to stop the full force of the blow.

First his arm shattered upon impact, then the forearm sized claws tore open his flesh almost amputating that arm in five sections. Last was the impact with other soldiers as his head impacted their shields, snapping his neck and smashing his head down into his collar. He would not have even had the time to scream as the attack happened so fast, the man had died without fully realizing what had happened. Worse still, his premature action had focused the creature on the soldier’s actions, and with a portion of the encirclement broken, they would be unable to restrict its movements.

“QUICK, GO FOR THE EYES AND FACE!” Understanding the danger posed, Iphiclus was quick to relay new orders. The men who had their javelins responded immediately, dropping their spears and without awaiting confirmation tossed them towards the beast while it was still rooted in place.

The Direwolf roared in pain as one of the javelins penetrated its left eye, a lucky shot that left the beast reeling in agony. Half the wooden shaft was jutting out from the grievous wound swaying back and forth, each swing further increasing the internal damage as the embedded tip shaved away at the soft tissue inside. Sensing an opportunity, Iphiclus and his men surged forward, pouncing onto the beast, or sticking to the sides before thrusting their spears in and out, puncturing whatever they could as the beast continued roaring in agony.

Victory, at least in this small engagement was in sight, and yet it was in these moments, when all appears right that things may go wrong. The first notification was the shrill whistle from above, but before the men could act, raise their shields, or move to the sides, the arrows came down. Dozens of serrated arrow heads eviscerated the lightly armored men, undefended backs easily penetrated causing many bleeding wounds. With the pressure on it relieved, the Direwolf broke free, kicking away some, mauling others and taking one unfortunate soul into its jaws to be crushed into pieces.

Injured, bleeding, and blind in one eye, the creature was still a force to be reckoned with, and with the men scattered or injured Iphiclus was left isolated and exposed. A pair of wolves had broken free from another stretch of the battlefield, the addition engaging the soldiers on the left flank, leaving the mainly wounded soldiers of the right flank to deal with the injured beast. The situation was clear, although the Direwolf was hobbled, it remained extremely dangerous. An enemy Iphiclus would have to deal with or resign his injured men to death while fleeing himself, an action that he would never take.

Readying his spear and shield, the captain took the field himself, no longer in his prime, Iphiclus had still retained decades of experience and was a capable fighter. Whether that would be enough to deal with the wounded monster before him would have to be seen. For the moment the monster wolf had taken notice of the enemy before it, the pain from the injuries clearing its mind, deterring its more animalistic urges from forgetting the danger the prey before it posed.