Hruodland opened his eyes and gazed out at the carnage. Hundreds of his men lay dead, ripped to shreds by large claws. The smell of blood hung in the air like the miasma of a slaughter house. Mixed in with the bodies were horse carcasses, upturned carts, and the corpses of monsters. The creatures looked mostly human, but for their dog-like faces and blotchy yellow skin.

He leaned forward and struggled to get his feet underneath him, his panic dulled by pain and exhaustion. His armor dragged down at him. He wanted to take it off, but he reckoned it was the only thing that had kept him alive. In a daze, he patted himself to make certain he had all of his equipment.

"It is a relief to see that someone lives," someone called out in thickly accented Latin.

Hruodland stumbled away from...

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