The door slammed open.
A torch swung up—then dropped. Five armored figures stepped into the meeting hall, boots thudding on the old wooden floor. One of them shouted something—
Crack.
The first shot echoed like thunder. A flare of smoke from above, and one of the intruders fell back with a scream, clutching his chest. Blood hit the floorboards in a hot arc.
Then the hall exploded into motion.
“NOW!” someone bellowed.
From behind overturned tables and splintered chairs, Tanir’s men surged forward, axes raised, knives flashing. A second shot cracked down from above, grazing another soldier’s helmet and sending him stumbling. The Mountain Corps shouted, falling into formation, shields raised. But the hall was too cramped, too chaotic.
And then the players hit them from behind.
The side door slammed shut.
Steel screamed against steel. A work axe cleaved into a soldier’s side, sticking in his ribs. He spun, howling—only for the adrenaline junkie to tackle him from behind, driving the blade deeper.
The old soldier fought with silence and precision, stepping into a blow and breaking a man’s elbow with the flat of his hatchet. Blood sprayed. The soldier dropped.
“Behind you!” the researcher screamed. Karl turned just in time to parry a machete strike with the haft of his cleaver. His arms rang with the impact.
The pervert was screaming—not in pain, but in wild exhilaration. His sickle caught a man across the throat. Hot blood spilled onto his shirt. He stared down at it like he couldn’t believe it.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
Karl grunted, shoved his attacker back, and lunged. The blade hit soft flesh. He felt it. The crunch. The give. The warmth.
The enemy soldier fell.
Karl stared for half a second—then stumbled back, breathing hard.
> [Combat Confirmed – Kill Count: 1]
> [Leadership Sync: +6%]
---
Outside, Lieutenant Maric heard the gunshots, then the screaming.
“No.”
He watched as two of his men stumbled from the doorway—one already bleeding from the shoulder.
“This was supposed to be clean!”
But his hand was already drawing his blade. “With me!” he shouted.
The five remaining riders surged forward. Their boots kicked up dust as they charged the hall. A man tried to block them at the door. Maric bowled him over, leading the assault.
The door was barely half open when they met the wall of Tanir’s men.
A carbine roared again—one of the riders collapsed mid-charge.
Then came the clash.
Blades slammed into shields. Axes into bone. The hall was too small. Too loud. Too full of rage.
Karl drove his shoulder into a soldier’s chest, took a knife slash across his ribs, and slammed his cleaver into the man’s thigh.
Screams. Grunts. Curses. The smell of blood, sweat, gunpowder.
Tanir shouted orders from behind a broken table, his voice raw: “Don’t let them regroup! Press them!”
One of the players had taken a blade to the arm—but he kept swinging, his eyes wild, mouth open in a silent roar.
The old soldier slammed a knee into a man’s gut, yanked the helmet off, and drove his weapon into the exposed throat.
Maric reached the center of the hall, blade dripping, armor dented. He saw two of his men already down. Another fell as he watched.
He turned to run.
A crack from above.
The shot hit him clean through the thigh.
He collapsed, screaming.
---
Silence, eventually.
Broken only by the moans of the wounded. And the drip of blood from cracked floorboards.
Karl stood in the middle of it all, panting, holding a blade slick with gore. One of the players leaned against the wall, wheezing, a deep cut along his side.
Tanir limped forward, eyes still sharp.
“Get that officer bound,” he said, pointing to Maric.
Karl nodded, walked over, and crouched by the fallen lieutenant.
The young officer glared up at him, teeth clenched in fury.
“This isn’t over,” Maric hissed.
Karl met his eyes.
“No,” he said. “It’s just begun.”
> [Battle Complete – Ambush Success]
> [Enemy Commander Captured – Temporary Delay on Imperial Response]
> [Reputation Gained – Tanir’s Crew: +25]
