The Harpy Queen's vast, iridescent wings unfurled, casting a monstrous shadow that seemed to drink the weak light, and the very air trembled in protest, shaking and bending as if it were a mere extension of her will. Her obsidian talons, each one longer than a dagger, flexed against the cursed pole, splintering the wood beneath her grip. Above, the remaining harpies circled in a frenzied, shrieking vortex, their cries harmonizing with the rising gale. The level of bloodlust, that could be felt, sent chills down Femi's spine.
He swallowed hard, the motion painful since he hadn't drank any drop of water since morning. His fingers tightening around the shaft of his spear. The flames that had once danced along its edge had died, leaving only a faint glow at the top.
Don't die, she says. Yeah, well, easier said than done when the enemy controls the damn sky.
Though, I plan on dying after sixty years, in my small house, close to a warm fire. Wait, how long does this rat body live for anyway? Despite the cold dread coiling in his gut, this strange, thought came to mind. I may need to ask someone later.
While Femi was distracted with his internal musings, the Harpy Queen's ember eyes locked onto them, burning with a cruel intelligence. Her full lips curled into a smile that was equal parts seductive and savage, a predator's expression, almost as if she was savoring the hunt, the anticipation of the kill. Then, with a single, thunderous beat of her wings that cracked like a whip, she summoned a burst of wind so violent it sent a tidal wave of snow, shattered debris, and loose weapons hurtling toward them like shrapnel from an invisible cannon.
"DOWN!"
Varga's voice sounded urgent as she slammed into Femi, tackling him hard to the snow just as the devastating gust slammed into everything around the queen. It shredded the pristine snow into a white mist and flipped heavy supply carts, splintered barrels, and even a half-buried spear into the air as if they were children's toys. The world became a disorienting whirlwind of deafening noise and sharp, biting pain as they were thrown back, skidding and tumbling across the snow until they came to a rough stop, half-buried in the deep, powdery drift.
Femi spat out a mouthful of cold snow, his ears ringing. "Okay, new plan," he wheezed, "we don't let her sneeze on us."
Then the Queen moved.
One second she was perched atop the pole, regal as a monarch surveying her domain; the next, she was a blur of iridescent feathers and razor-edged talons, slashing through the space toward Varga's throat with the speed of a striking viper.
Varga twisted with inhuman grace, but the Queen's claws still grazed her shoulder, drawing a thin line of crimson. She retaliated instantly, her Kuros-blessed blade carving a trail of emerald light. The Harpy Queen snorted, amused, as an unseen gust diverted the enchanted steel at the last second. She struck back with a movement too fast to follow, sending Varga hurtling through the air like a ragdoll.
Femi didn't wait for an invitation.
He lunged, driving his spear toward the Harpy Queen's exposed side with every ounce of strength he had. But her wing snapped out like a living shield, deflecting the strike with a metallic clang that sent vibrations up his arms. Before he could register the failure, her other wing backhanded him. He grunted in pain, skidding through the snow, his ribs screaming in protest.
"Garrrrr!"
Victim, the little pup, snarled at the Harpy Queen's feet, his fur bristling. She barely glanced down before flicking him away like a bothersome insect. The pup yelped, tumbling through the air before crashing into a snowdrift.
Femi's cursed.
"Victim, don't come back or you might become casualty!" Femi shouted.
At his side, Varga staggered back to her feet, her blade flaring anew with Kuros' eerie green light. "Distract her," she hissed through gritted teeth, her eyes never leaving the Queen. "I need an opening."
"An opening? We'd be lucky if she doesn't open me up," Femi grumbled, but he scrambled up anyway, ignoring the throbbing ache in his ribs. He charged again, this time zigzagging erratically through the snow, trying to flank her, or just being a irritating nuisance.
But the queen just smiled, a grin so wide it split her face unnaturally, revealing rows of needle-like teeth. She threw back her head and let out a deafening screech, a sound so piercing and vile it felt like hot daggers driving directly into Femi's skull. He buckled, his vision swimming, his hands clutching his ears in a futile attempt to block the assault.
What kind of terrible shouting is this?!
But before an answer came, he heard two more screeches to his side.
"Oh no."
He barely dodged forward as talons from one harpy whizzed past his head, close enough to slice a few strands of his fur. Another lunged from the opposite side, its crooked smile wide and dripping with blood, going straight for his throat. With one palm pressed to his ringing ear and the other gripping his spear, Femi let out a mental curse. He was suddenly surrounded.
Unknown to him, the Harpy Queen's form loomed overhead, her ember eyes fixed on him with cold calculation. She raised her talons, poised to gut him like a fish...
...Only for Varga to slam into her from the side, her shoulder driving into the Queen's ribs with enough force to crack stone. The Harpy Queen staggered, her wings flaring for balance, and Varga pounced, her sword carving a burning arc toward the creature's throat.
The Harpy Queen caught the blade in her talons.
Blood dripped from them as she held the enchanted steel, her muscles straining against Varga's strength. The two women locked in a brutal contest of power, emerald light hissing against dark talons, neither willing to yield.
Femi, still oblivious to how close death had been, continued to dodge and weave between the harpies. But before he was overwhelmed, a roar erupted from the side.
A Krag, massive and clad in battered armor, slammed into one harpy with a shield bash, sending it squawking to the ground. The other harpy shrieked, realizing its mistake too late as a second, younger Krag decapitated it with a swift slash of his short blade.
The two Krags stood tall, The elder was a mountain of scarred muscle, his wild grey hair and beard framing a face marked with yellowed tusks, a heavy mace in one hand and a strange, single-bladed axe hanging at his side. The younger had a lean, speedy frame, his dark hair tied in a tight braid, his eyes gleaming with a feral mischief as he wielded his twin short swords with ease. They both kept scanning the chaotic battlefield, probably searching for the next fight with the composure of people who had seen too many battles.
"That was a close one," the younger one said, flashing Femi a grin.
"Good to see you still alive, ratling," the elder rumbled. "There's no time for dying now, not with all the blood that still needs spilling."
"Oh, thanks for the help. I appreciate," Femi responded a little confused by the sudden turn of events.
These two Krags are strange. But allies were allies, and in a fight like this, he wasn't about to question the timing or the source of his salvation.
Hisssssss!
The sound came from above, a sibilant wave of hatred, as the remaining harpies, seeing their queen in a momentary stalemate, descended upon the battlefield like a swarm of shrieking locusts. But just as they were about to engulf the small group of defenders, another, figure emerged from the other side of the now ruined camp, his voice booming across the like a crack of thunder.
"MARCH, KRAGS! FOR WE ARE DESCENDANTS OF KRAGGOTHS, AND WE SHALL NOT FALL TO HARPIES TODAY! DEFEND OUR CAMP! SLAUGHTER THEM ALL!"
Tarlak's roar was answered by a unified, thunderous cry from the remaining Krags. They were battered, bleeding, but still unbroken, all raising their spears, swords and axes high, the glint of their steel giving them the appearance of heroes from the old tales. The diving harpies met them in a roaring frenzy of talons and steel, and the battlefield erupted once more into pure, unadulterated chaos.
The battlefield devolved into a messy, frenzied melee, with krags trying to kill Harpies and Harpies trying to kill krags. A swirling melee of screams, clashing metal, and the wet thud of blades finding flesh.
But amidst the chaos, Femi saw an opportunity. He realized that....
.....The Queen and Varga fight was forgotten for a moment by the larger battle.
The duel between Varga and the Queen was simply a display of terrifying skill. The Queen, protected by the very air itself, parried and riposted with elegant, effortless ease, a mischievous, knowing smile playing on her lips, while varga was constantly changing her attack pattern, spinning, feinting, and lunging, trying to catch the queen off guard as they moved slightly away from the rest of the fighting, carving their own private arena of death.
He turned to the old Krag, eyeing the strange, single-bladed axe at his side. As if reading his mind, the elder smirked, a glint in his old eyes, and unhooked it, tossing the weapon to him through the air.
"I think you'll be needing this more than me," he said with a deep chuckle. "I can still smash a few harpy skulls well enough with my trusty head splitter." He then turned to the younger warrior. "Boy! Let's go find our own kills! This flock won't thin itself!"
"What about the fight with the queen." He said with a slight grin.
"I said fight not suicide there are easier preys to hunt, we will leave the queen to varga."
After saying that, the old Krag let loosed a ground-shaking roar, and charged into the thick of the fray, his large shield deflecting a diving harpy with a loud crash before he crushed its skull with a single, brutal swing of his mace. The younger one lingered just long enough to flash Femi a final, reckless smirk.
"Well too bad....See you later, ratling...if you survive, that is."
Then he was gone, vanishing into the seething mob of combatants.
"Yep, very strange Krags," Femi muttered to the empty air where they had stood.
Femi hefted the unfamiliar axe, feeling its solid, balanced weight in his arm. It looked like a hatchet with a straight, unadorned shaft. The strange-looking axe seemed faintly familiar, but he couldn't quite place it.
"Okay, let's do this," he said to himself, gripping the axe tightly, its cold metal felt reassuring.
He began to move, with a careful stalk towards the direction of their fight, using the chaos, the mounds of snow, and the wreckage of the camp as cover, avoiding drawing any attention to himself.
The fight was still going, a breathtaking and terrifying spectacle, with the queen exchanging fast, precise blows with her opponent varga. Sparks of green and black flew each time talons and blade clashed, both combatants moving with a preternatural speed as they dodged and weaved in their deadly ballet.
The Harpy Queen was a vision of murderous elegance, her movements fluid and precise as she switched and dodged, staying effortlessly airborne, her wings making minute adjustments. Her eyes blazed with fierce intensity, but her face remained a calm, as if she were merely playing a challenging game.
Varga's blade was constantly slicing through the air, cutting and tilting in complex, unpredictable patterns in an attempt to bypass the queen's defenses and land a single, decisive hit. But it seemed as though the queen was protected by the very air, her defenses a swirling, invisible wall that was impenetrable as she parried and riposted with infuriating ease, her talons ringing against the enchanted steel.
The fight was a beautiful, a true display of apex predators where both combatants wanted for nothing less than complete and utter victory.
Femi sighed. Allowing the weary exhalation to leave his body.
"Well time to get back to work, unfortunately."