Monster Hunter
The locals are grateful for defeating the evil forces plaguing their region.
The routine of the early military career in Sirion had come at a bad time for Ehrendill. With the creation of a new colony and the traditional celebrations of Avamar, the young elf spent most of his days in the Academy and in training matches, trying to stop being so amateur with the swords. The general refit was near, but without experience he couldn’t recruit better troops or increase the numbers, it would be pure waste of gold and time. He needed some action, real action. So, the monsters came in good time.
With just over thirty still inexperienced Stormwalkers, he marched from Avamar to Limbar on his way to Flismar. This was not just a campaign of liberation and hunting, but it was also vital for him to introduce himself to Sirion, to the common people, as the true heir of the Serpentis’ legacy. Then he rode ahead in his finest armor, exhibiting himself mainly in Limbar, a region that had belonged to Avamar for a long time, an affront to Duke Ecthelion. With Trinbar under Dürion’s power, displease the Black Dragon was always a danger of being imprisoned in Sirion with the duchy isolated, prisoner of the dragons who guarded the front, just watching them expanding Avamar city after city.
In Flismar the local hunters had indicated where the monsters had taken refuge in a clearing after devouring some unfortunate villagers. Ehrendill knew immediately that these would not be customary battles. There would be no shield wall advancing in perfect lines following specific orders played by the banners, so he waited for the moment when the shadows loomed over the woods and separated the Stormwalkers into smaller units, as was customary in the Silver Legion rankings. Two vanguard groups would pass unnoticed by the monsters and set the path for the rest to advance along the flanks until they can form a circle closing around the glade. The soldiers' black robes helped and they were forced to remember life before training, but they were slowly closing the circle as planned. The smell was terrible and three huge, terrible monsters were tearing apart a poor dead villager, one sucking the marrow of a broken bone. It was easy to see why the elves called the ancient Oligarch people of Orcs at the sight of those monsters -- just as the humans used propaganda against the elves, so had they compared the Oligarchians to monsters, to demonize them and make the killing easier.
With a wave the soldiers began to advance, leaving the trees behind, slowly trying to put shield against shield on a circular wall. Ehrendill did not intend to let the monsters escape to hunt them down through the forest. Only three monsters, but taller than men. Their claws sharp like daggers and their fangs would make a wolf wince. When they noticed the soldiers surrounding them, a guttural scream echoed from their bestial throats and they advanced, each in a different direction trying to break the circle. Each blow was like that of a warhammer, but as the circle closed, the soldiers instinctively deepened the lines, some with two soldiers, some place with even three men of depth. When one was injured, the companion would pull him back and take the lead. Instead of swords, spears nudged the thick skin; like a pack of wolves, they would wound, bleed and exhaust the beasts before an effective attack was possible. That was a strenuous battle, Ehrendill sweated under the armor as he turned the spear into an extension of his arm. When the last beast finally fell causing the earth to tremble, he stepped forward and released the spear, unsheathed his sword and delivered a deadly blow to the monster's neck. It wasn't easy or beautiful to use the sword as an executioner, but he was not satisfied until he beheaded the beast and displayed his immense and grotesque head as a trophy. It was a moment of glory, the first one. His storm wolves howled in triumph while Dolmbar and Lissambar waited for them.
