Men screamed into the night, their voices amazingly audible over the roars, clashing metal and maniacal laughter.
The only light was that of the burning crimson fires scattered the battlefield; inhumane black figures, like nightmare shadows come to life, tearing down brave men like rag dolls. Things were not going well for the Alliance Army, in the darkness the werewolf horde had split into three sectors. Two of the three had moved into flank the waiting army, while the third had simply rushed the front line.
After that, Chaos had broken loose. From what Ateal could tell, one of the flanks had broken, but the second had held. His spear was slipping in his sweaty hands, jumping down from his vantage point on the corpse of an old grey werewolf he landed in the middle of a tight circle of men, his men, all facing outwards with their knuckles white on the dark wood of their spears.
He whistled as loud as he could manage, to bring their attention back to him. He lifted his spear and pointed back towards the front of the army, where he knew the shield wall would still be standing.
The shield wall never broke.
He vaulted over the spear ridden corpse of a werewolf and broke into a full sprint. Mud, blood and other filth coating his lower half with the frantic pace of his leather boots.
He didn't realize what'd happened until all he could taste was his own blood and the mud of the battle-field, pulling himself back to his feet, and readjusting his hold on his spear he charged the rampaging wolf. Several of his men surrounded the beast, spearheads down and ready, but just as many of them lay in the mud, already rent by the beasts great claws.
With terrifying speed, the beast pounced, crushing one of the soldiers chests, his spear barely causing a scratch on the thick hide of the beast. It roared, with it's victory over him assured before tearing his head from his shoulders with its great jaws.
Two of the remaining men charged the beast, and if they'd been quick enough, they may have landed a fatal hit, but they weren't. It saw them coming and with a great swipe of its paws tore them down. Standing up on its hind legs, it roared again, it's sights set on Ateal.
Snapping his spear into his ready stance, he whispered a prayer to his gods, before the beast launched itself, smothering him with its tremendous weight, knocking him to the ground with the force of the tackle. Kicking with both his legs into the beasts soft underbelly, he managed to push it just enough to escape and was rewarded with the sight of his broken-off spear head, buried into the monsters body. He grinned with the spray of warm blood on his face.
Rolling out the rest of the way from under the beast, his grin faded- the wound was crippling, but not fatal. And now, all he had was the long dagger in his belt.
Unsheathing it slowly, the two began to circle, eyes locked. Man and Beast doing the dance of war. It roared again, and pounced slower, and weaker than before and Ateal easily dodged the poor attack. It growled in frustration, and he laughed at it. It pounced again, faster this time, catching him off guard. It closed its jaws around his torso, its large canines easily piercing the thin leather armor and all Ateal could do was ram the hilt of his dagger futilely against the beasts skull.
"Rok'Tan! Allro farah!" A huge metal broadsword flashed past his vision, burying itself into the exposed neck of the wounded wolf. Three Lok'Ratheans entered his blurred vision, the leader of them hacking away at the things neck, the other two making short work of its exposed back and ribs.
"Lek'tan, Spearman. You don't look in such good shape." the bearded man laughed. Ateal could only cough in response. "Here, lay still, I'll get him off you." He pulled the heavy blade out of the beasts semi-dismembered head. Stepping back a fraction, and sucking in a deep breath he swung the blade in an uppercut fashion, shattering the jaw of the dead beast. Stabbing it into the ground, he then came back over to Ateal, resting his hands around two large teeth, he pulled suddenly, snapping the jaw away from the rest of the skull.
"You fight well, Lek, for a Carthean. We saw you, from the far side. Ha! You did well, we tried to come sooner, but were cut off." Ateal couldn't hold his own weight any longer, and collapsed into the muscular arms of the Wolf-Warrior. "Come, friend. We must get you back to the line. These Rok'Aleks have cut our army in half. Only the shield wall and the Retharian deployment remain. But come, we must find a healer!"
He threw Ateal up over one shoulder, while barking at his companions in their native tongue. The rest of his vision, his life, becomes a blur of black and red. The only thing that stands out is the voice of his savior.
"Come now, Lek, my name is Rokhan. You are to brave to die now, you do not give up on us now, eh Lek? Eh?"