“You alright?”
“Yes,” Vahn coughed out a cloud of dust as he answered, and Poetschke reached down to help him up.
“We’ve got to keep going,” was all he said.
“But I’ll recommend Sepp put you on the honor roll for this…”
“Sir, what’s an honor roll?” Vahn said, dusting the soil off his ear.
“Heh. You’ll find out. Now come on.”
The snowy field was littered with death, mostly the Grimeskins. Poetschke demanded his wolves to attack like selfless ants, or bees. It was a different style than Vahn and the wolves knew, but no one could argue with the outcome. Packs of wolves that comprised Poetshcke’s Kompanie trudged through the pock-marked field and on towards Oxbane’s camp. Wherever that was.
Vahn’s ear flicked as he heard a faint snarl in the distance. Then another, then a whole line of them.
“Reinforcements?” He said to himself.
Soon he got his answer. A line of black wolftaurs appeared on the horizon and came charging toward them. Each mount was crowned with a Greenskin.
“Raiders…” A fellow chanted out.
“Raiders! Raiders! There has to be tens upon tens of them!” Another panicked.
Just nearby, the Sturmbannfuehrer picked up his field glass and shook his head. Sobriety had descended over him.
“We need to get out of here. Now.”
Blunt, pt. 2
Kasha picked the ten most able-bodied warriors, brought them out from the trench and looked at each one of them. Most were young like him. Many were afraid.
“We are going on the attack now.”
Kasha dug the butt of his spear into the snowy ground.
“Engage the Grimeskins in groups of three, stay in heavily-wooded areas. We won’t give them an advantage unless its necessary. Our goal is to head forward some 100 Terras, where we’ll await instruction from Master Sepp. The whole Kompanie is going with us. Be brave and fight with all the hate in your heart. Remember who this is for. We meet up with Kristiyan 100 terras from here.”
Kasha divided the platoon into three parties. They slipped into the woods next to Kristiyan’s platoon. The dark northern woods were no place to be a Greenskin, but even Kasha knew his warriors were outnumbered, and their attacking nature meant open battle would almost certainly happen.
He spotted five monsters treading side by side, through the snow, and ordered two of his groups into the woods flanking both sides. His nose told him there were other Greenskins right behind. This was likely a trap, but it was also the one chance they would have to actually preempt the Monsters. Kasha and three others charged the monsters head on, and already the two flanks knew what to do. They leaped out and surprised the party of Greenskins.
Kasha ducked a blow from the other side and rolled back to his footpaws. He could hear the snarls all around him. Two monsters fell and the others were now swinging at Kasha’s third group. They had the Greenskins outnumbered now, and Kasha’s faster wolves leaped and tore into the enemy, with only one of his men falling to a deadly axing to the chest and then the head.
Everyone hugged the ground waiting for the ax-throwing monsters to attack, but none came. Kasha looked out and picked up his field glass only to see the Greenskins departing.
“Everybody up.”
Eight stood up.
“Kristiyan’s platoon is in that forest. Chances are the enemy is already there and waiting for us, so beware. stay in groups.”
But in the forest, all that greeted them was the hooting of owls. If drawing the wolves into the forest was the Greenskins’ plan, it was a very subtle one. No axes flew at them and no Greenskins emerged from the trees.
They marched in tight triangles through the woods, their eyes darting around for the first sign of an attack which could have come from anywhere.
“Hey, there he is!”
One of them pointed to a wolf digging into the ground with a spade.
“Kristiyan must have cleared out the enemy already!”
“Come on,” Kasha said, leading them to Kristiyan’s platoon. Their estimations were right. Kristiyan’s group had already driven out the Greenskins. His wolves were at work setting up a perimeter.
“Kasha! Tell them to dig in.” Kristiyan instructed.
“Once we get the trenches up we’ll bring in the tripods. We hold up this place so that Master Sepp may advance without worrying about an attack from this end.”
Kasha joined in the task but then received a note from the courier. Things were going well. Both Master Sepp and Poetschke withstood the first onslaught, and now Poetschke’s group in the south was driving forward for Balaton. If Poetschke got through the lakes, there would be little between himself and Oxbane.
“No!” someone shouted. “Wolftaurs coming! Get out of there!”
The platoon scrambled out of their work and grabbed their spears. Kasha picked up his field glass and saw it for himself: Four ‘wolftaurs’ with another line of green stomping through the forest floor behind them. The enemy outnumbered wolves’ at least two-to-one. Kristiyan blew a whistle and lined up the dragoons. Kasha’s platoon had two, and Kristiyan’s had two including himself.
“Into positions, this line here! This line here!” Kasha shouted at his nine-strong Kompanie.
Kasha himself picked up a rope and got into position. This would have to go perfectly, and even then, the odds weren’t good. The Wolftaurs came fast, and when they did, Kasha roped one and his dragoon leaped through and took out the Greenskin.
A blood-curling scream then shot up. It from the other end. Kasha turned around to see Kristiyan in a wolftaur’s clutches, being dismembered and mangled right before them. His ripped-up body fell to the forest floor.
Hollers and screams surrounded Master Sepp in the trenches, but the weathered leader’s reflexes were well-honed. A quick shot of his crossbow chopped down a Greenskin as it went hand-to-hand with his guard.
“How many fallen?”
“Five, sir. And one tripod smashed.”
“Clear the trench of the dead. We’ll keep holding this line.”
“Master Sepp…” Rokura pointed off to the other end of the trench. Sepp lifted up his binoculars to see for himself.
He watched helplessly from a distance as the wolftaurs hopped over an empty trench behind his line. A small number of Greenskins ran by on foot as well. They had broken through one of Sepp’s lines. They were now crossing over.
“Rokura,”
“Yes sir?”
“Gather the platoon.”
Sepp’s wolf swallowed hard and went for the explosives box. He had no estimate, but Sepp was sure the monsters would send yet more fresh troops to attack his exhausted line and finish them all off.
The weathered Gruppenfuehrer gathered his company around him for a moment. All of them were exhausted, and stained with either blood or earth. Sometimes both. Now Sepp had to make a decision.
“The enemy has broken through and are likely going for a village. You know what they will do after that,” he said, pulling out the dynamite sticks.
“For the children and women behind the lines, it is an honor to die.”
Each of the company nervously drew a straw. The task of suicide fell onto Rokura and two others. Sepp quietly handed each one of them a boomstick.
“Remember that you are the innocent’s last line of defense. Find the wolftaurs and explode them with your dynamite sticks.”
The three of them stood by with dry throats as the others hurriedly strapped explosives to the wolves’ white belts.
“This is how it has to be,” Sepp shook each of their paws. Rokura looked down but said nothing.
“I’ll see you in heaven.”