The firelight brought the monsters plainly into view. They were long and not at all lean. Their bodies were thick and muscular with powerful limbs to attack and low centers of gravity to maintain balance in any encounter. Linvin’s memory had been correct, but had not done justice to the horror of their 180 degree double line of teeth. They glistened in the light and looked impossible to fit together considering the serrated row in the front.
Their fur was a combination of black and grey with a narrow mane of hair running from the tops of their heads down their spines. The oily nature of their skin made the fur mat down and clump in odd places where presumably another Trogo had nipped the other for some reason. Two Trogos climbed onto the wagon and produced claws the size of Linvin’s hand to begin shredding the wooden door to the barn.
They were a ghastly sight to Linvin who felt fear creeping into his stomach and tying his innards in knots. Then the bloodthirsty essence of Falconfeather poured like a waterfall into his being, erasing all doubt and replacing it with a wanton urge to slaughter every Trogoandras in sight. He felt self-assured and ready to fight.
The general in Linvin took center stage as he viewed the scene and quickly devised a strategy. He grinned as he thought about it and looked closely at his landing spot.
I love the plan, Master. Just remember your footing and to protect your feet. These things are close to the ground and love to attack low. And do not worry about putting enough force behind your blows. Between your strength and my might the most delicate slash will cause a most fatal effect.
Linvin had not moved his eyes. There are too many Trogos standing there with nothing to do. Wait for it. As if on cue the alpha let out a growling howl and two wolves ran around each side of the barn toward the northern entrance. Once they were well gone, Linvin smiled and the image of white flames appeared on Falconfeather. Old Friend, it is time to slaughter this scum.
Linvin leapt off the roof and headed for the edge of the wagon closest to the fire. The two Trogos on the wagon were on their hind legs scratching with their front claws. As Linvin descended he stabbed Falconfeather into the side of the nearest Trogo right behind the neck and let his momentum slice deep into the creature all the way to its hindquarters. Linvin landed on the edge of the wagon and pulled his sword back from the barn. The dying beast fell upon his comrades who were stunned by the turn of events. Clinging to the element of surprise, Linvin stabbed completely through the mid-section of the other Trogo on the wagon. Again he discarded the carcass on the crowd below.
By that point the other Trogoandras were enraged and urged on by the alpha. They jumped at Linvin’s feet and attempted to pull him down into the mass of wolves. Linvin slashed at them as they made their modest jumps, but knew his time on the wagon was short lived. His plan was to jump to the clear zone between the barn and the fire and make his stand there. As he prepared to jump, a Trogo leaning on the wagon reached up and wrapped its teeth around Linvin’s left calf.
Stab it in the chest. Stab it in the chest, Falconfeather quickly called. Linvin did as ordered and the Trogo released its grip as it was mortally wounded in the heart and fell back.
Wasting no time, Linvin jumped to the open spot by the fire. A Trogo immediately attacked him. Linvin fended him off with his shield and used the beast’s momentum to raise it up. The action exposed the belly of the beast and Linvin did not think twice about slashing deep into its underbelly and dropping it for good. Another Trogo was right there to take its place as the fighting continued.
It’s only a matter of time until they come ‘round the fire and attack from two sides, Falconfeather warned.
I expect as much, Linvin thought between attacks. Even so, with every kill the odds swing more in our favor, Old Friend.
Their fur was a combination of black and grey with a narrow mane of hair running from the tops of their heads down their spines. The oily nature of their skin made the fur mat down and clump in odd places where presumably another Trogo had nipped the other for some reason. Two Trogos climbed onto the wagon and produced claws the size of Linvin’s hand to begin shredding the wooden door to the barn.
They were a ghastly sight to Linvin who felt fear creeping into his stomach and tying his innards in knots. Then the bloodthirsty essence of Falconfeather poured like a waterfall into his being, erasing all doubt and replacing it with a wanton urge to slaughter every Trogoandras in sight. He felt self-assured and ready to fight.
The general in Linvin took center stage as he viewed the scene and quickly devised a strategy. He grinned as he thought about it and looked closely at his landing spot.
I love the plan, Master. Just remember your footing and to protect your feet. These things are close to the ground and love to attack low. And do not worry about putting enough force behind your blows. Between your strength and my might the most delicate slash will cause a most fatal effect.
Linvin had not moved his eyes. There are too many Trogos standing there with nothing to do. Wait for it. As if on cue the alpha let out a growling howl and two wolves ran around each side of the barn toward the northern entrance. Once they were well gone, Linvin smiled and the image of white flames appeared on Falconfeather. Old Friend, it is time to slaughter this scum.
Linvin leapt off the roof and headed for the edge of the wagon closest to the fire. The two Trogos on the wagon were on their hind legs scratching with their front claws. As Linvin descended he stabbed Falconfeather into the side of the nearest Trogo right behind the neck and let his momentum slice deep into the creature all the way to its hindquarters. Linvin landed on the edge of the wagon and pulled his sword back from the barn. The dying beast fell upon his comrades who were stunned by the turn of events. Clinging to the element of surprise, Linvin stabbed completely through the mid-section of the other Trogo on the wagon. Again he discarded the carcass on the crowd below.
By that point the other Trogoandras were enraged and urged on by the alpha. They jumped at Linvin’s feet and attempted to pull him down into the mass of wolves. Linvin slashed at them as they made their modest jumps, but knew his time on the wagon was short lived. His plan was to jump to the clear zone between the barn and the fire and make his stand there. As he prepared to jump, a Trogo leaning on the wagon reached up and wrapped its teeth around Linvin’s left calf.
Stab it in the chest. Stab it in the chest, Falconfeather quickly called. Linvin did as ordered and the Trogo released its grip as it was mortally wounded in the heart and fell back.
Wasting no time, Linvin jumped to the open spot by the fire. A Trogo immediately attacked him. Linvin fended him off with his shield and used the beast’s momentum to raise it up. The action exposed the belly of the beast and Linvin did not think twice about slashing deep into its underbelly and dropping it for good. Another Trogo was right there to take its place as the fighting continued.
It’s only a matter of time until they come ‘round the fire and attack from two sides, Falconfeather warned.
I expect as much, Linvin thought between attacks. Even so, with every kill the odds swing more in our favor, Old Friend.
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