The street shook as the third giant leapt. His weight left a crater in the pavement and tossed several hordemen and the large axe into the air. A hand closed around the axe, and the Pureblood spun, bisecting the bodies. Another hand grasped a retreating raider by his helmet and drew him nearer, as if the sword saint wanted to bite him, but at the last second he ripped the man's face off and then struck, cracking the cranium. Legs, looking too short, stomped, bursting bellies of the soldiers.
Not him. She. The escapee. The one who hurt my son… and spared my daughter. His lips parted in predatory glee. Janine wore a false insignia, but her battle style of carving a bloody path formed of mutilated bodies betrayed her undeniably as a black-furred. Not a hint of mercy and all the aggression a mind could hold.
What luck! Two warlords, a sword saint, and the main course had not yet arrived. He had time to partake in the storm of madness.
"Prepare to fire Sky's Wrath at Opul!" Iron Lord said to the behemoth's crew and opened a direct line to another great khan. "Brood Lord! Keep Phaser ready. His ass…" Why am I cursing? What is going on here? "… is to open a space rift on my command. Use the video feed of our troops to deduce the coordinates of our location."
"Some of us have a war to wage." Brood Lord yawned. "What are you up to, Rust Lord?"
"Correcting your mistakes, imbecile," Iron Lord answered, energized and frightened in equal measure. His implants kicked in, filling the bloodstream with chemicals, and it wasn't enough. His emotions joined in a maddening carnival, filling him with desires. "Gilded Horde!" He raised Patience. "To conquest and wealth! Devour the world!"
"Devour the world!" the bodyguard roared back.
The thunder bull trotted on, past the open-mouthed mayor, accelerated, and shattered the entrance, sending a rain of pebbles and iron beams harmlessly crashing into the Iron Lord's bulk. A field of disruption formed around the glaive's edge, ready to bring carnage.
They advanced like a flood, leveling everything in their path. Calming himself, Iron Lord paid attention to a coded message Brood Lord sent to one of the panicked lesser khans on the field. There was always the risk of betrayal, but he had taken precautions to ensure a positive outcome.
"Horkhudagh." Iron Lord contacted the Flame Whip. "Stay close for support."
****
Divide! The Taleteller came down, splitting a man into two unequal halves. Pierce. Her armored fingers struck, shattering a gorget and crumbling a trachea. Her jaws tried to open to catch the coughed blood and drink the vitae like water. Disgusted, Albert caught her desire and unsealed the helmet. Tear. Her head swung, closing her fangs on a fleeing raider, breaking his spine. She stepped on the paralyzed fool and heard the bones crack. Divide. Split. Divide!
"Isn't that why you came, morsels?!" she thundered. "Then come and face me, instead of scurrying away! I haven't even sent all of you into the Abyss!"
Janine broke the law. The understanding of the simple fact that she was feasting on the living and the dead did not even bother her, as the cold fury unleashed by the sight of yet another plundered sanctuary drove her to abandon any pretense of civility. She was a beast, a monster in the service of the state! Every move killed or maimed, and the warlord reveled in the terrified screams, embracing the savage nature of the Wolf Tribe.
Roars and howls reigned on the streets, choking the whispers and pleas of the dying and fear-struck. Impatient One tore a khan's limbs one by one, as if she were a cub toying with an insectoid. Then her claws plunged into the wide-open eyes. Anissa and her pack emerged from the smoke, denying a retreat to the enemy.
The Ice Fangs' shock was almost palpable; the warlord sensed that much. Bertruda joined the slaughter, but her occasional hesitation after hearing a scream of surrender betrayed that everything in her revolted against this way of waging war. The Twins and the Blessed Mother had established rules, adjusting them as the state grew. But now, at the zenith of the grievous strike aimed at civilization, its soldiers abandoned normality and snarled, participating in a brutality that surpassed even that of their enemies.
Janine didn't howl, too busy killing.
"You came to our lands as monsters!" Janine snarled, swatting away bullets with the Taleteller. A beam of her laser rifle toppled an enemy soldier. "Bringing woe to our families! Ruins to our dens!" A raider tried to ram her, only to find the butt of the axe tearing off a sizeable chunk of his throat and head. The blade slashed, severing the legs of three raiders at their knees. She kicked a Pureblood in the chest, denting his armor, but the fat underneath softened the blow and absorbed some of the impact. Still, his visor was suddenly covered in red from the inside.
"Please!" he pleaded as Janine turned her kick into a stomp, splattering the man against the ground. His armor held, but she saw the bastard's body balloon, the flesh pressing hard against the breastplate. "Mercy!" He yelled in desperation, trying to lift her leg. "I beg…"
"He is no longer a threat," Albert said.
"And monsters you have met." The body exploded under increased pressure. "Rip apart, Reclaimers!" Janine roared, sending an order for Kalaisa to eliminate the hordemen near the entrance doors. "There are no humans here! Retaliate and let them taste our righteous fury!" Anissa obeyed another command and halted their ambush, forming two firing lines that mowed down riders trying to get to the APCs.
The defenders slammed their shields into the ground, blocking the incoming grenades and shielding the precious transports. With a grunt of approval and no intention of staying put, the Wolfkins rode the blast and scattered. The knights raised their blades and unleashed ranged hell on the grenadiers.
Plasma from Bertruda's wrists immolated several brave hordemen trying to mount a defensive line. Martyshkina jumped down from the building, her cloak flapping in the gust of wind propelled by explosions. Two shots eliminated the last riders, and the last to arrive at the Academy's entrance was Janine, covered in blood and gore, her blue visor shining like a newborn star, and her leg kicked a head into the hordemen's ranks. That sight, and something about her, broke whatever morale the raiders had left, and they tried to scurry away and disappear into the streets of the town.
No respite was given to them. Shardguns pronounced their verdict, joined by the banshee screams of the APCs' rotating cannons, which sheared off entire body parts. Several civilians unsteadily poked their heads out of the ruins, shrieking in terror as black-clad paws unceremoniously grabbed them and shoved them into the transports.
"That was… intense," Albert mused.
"Wolf Tribe's way," Janine admitted. "See? Told you, no need to tarnish the Order with my shit."
"Let us not argue about it now, Sword Saint and Warlord. You talked about the minefield, but there is none. If…"
"No ifs! It is a trap," she interrupted him and pointed at the Academy. "Inside!"
The packs and knights charged toward the entrance and found it sealed shut by the tons of rubble merged. Albert helpfully informed the rescuers of a ventilation shaft, but unfortunately it was too narrow for any of them to enter, and sending a civilian inside might have been suicide. Janine waved the troops aside and brought the Taleteller high. She'll shatter the damn stones if…
"Prey!" Martyshkina cried out, and a moment later, the ground shook.