A Bloody Battle

It would be a bloody battle.

Lords Ettore, Gaspare, and Dario gather their horses and they mount themselves up to lead the charge. Werewolves trail behind them, and together, they storm out of the palace and into the Obice Forest. The autumn leaves fall over their heads, and the gray skies float above, high in the sky.

The vampire lords are silent as they lead the men. Silently, they know that they are walking before their deaths and there is nothing they can do about it. They keep their heads down as if they are in a funeral march towards the human village. Soon enough, they reach the top hill that overlooks the little peaceful life of a village that is oblivious to the Silenda Kingdom.

It was not the same village. Still, the Undead ravages the whole town in search for fresh meat. Lord Ettore nods to the other lords and they urge their horses to forward silently to the village.

The horses march softly across the streets where tumbleweeds roll along as if in search of life. It was a perfect time, as it seems, for the Undead went forth their way. In caution, the lords draw their swords at their sides and the werewolves unleash their sharp claws.

One. . . Two. . . Three. . .

The wooden homes in the villages explode into bits of dust in the air, leaving no traces of fire or ash. Somehow, it merely explodes into dust and leaves a sharp boom enough to deafen the men all around. In one swift blast, the compressed formation of the army is scattered all about, leaving them vulnerable to attacks.

Through the fading dust, the enemy arrives. As it fades, the Undead stands from the fallen homes, revealing their numbers greater than the army. From a distance, a piercing whistle is blown. No more words need to be said. The Undead began ravishing them to their deaths, but this time, they are equipped with weapons.

They unsheathe their swords and promptly cut the heads of the frontline werewolves in unison. Thousands of Undead men began attacking madly without considering who or what their enemy is. Their speed is not a problem. They walk placidly but act brashly. Their numbers are the problem. It is a hundred men from the army against thousands of men that rose from the grave. The vampire lords unmount themselves hurriedly and unsheathe their swords as well. As the werewolves fall one by one and eaten upon by the merciless undead. The werewolves use their claws as makeshift swords against the Undead, but even that proves to be futile for the silver sword is stronger than claws.

"Men, charge!" Lord Ettore exclaims to the remaining werewolves.

With little determination, they storm against the Undead. Werewolves began slitting the Undead's throats one by one. For a while, the tides turn in favor of them, but in just glimpse of an eye, they began rising from their fall, stronger and faster. The war is against them once more, and soon, the streets are filled with werewolf blood.

The lords fight with swords of iron while the other fights with silver. Lord Ettore, Gaspare, and Dario are scattered all over as they fight their way through. In his stance, Lord Dario beheads the Undead with a sweep of his sword. He is careful not to look into the sword itself for the rays of the sun would pierce through soul and petrify him to his death.

Little by little, the streets grow silent by the minute. Screams of agony during death are fading away like dust. Still, Lord Dario fights and fights for his life. He slits the throats of tens of hundreds of the Undead while keeping his stand. As the bleeding werewolves see Lord Dario's fight, they began standing up, unleashing their wrath for the Undead.

They began gathering the silver swords on the streets and madly sliced the life out of the undead. The tides are turning once more, and this time, it would never turn again. The numbers of the other hordes grow little by the minute as the werewolves use the swords to slit their throats or use their piercing claws to quarter them whole. Some run quickly and slice while they circle the streets. As the sun begins to take her rests, so are the bodies of the Undead – a victory indeed.

As Lord Gaspare slits the throat of the last surviving Undead, the streets grow silent again. The army looks about as if in horror of what they have done. Their paws are covered with blood and their furs all over their body are filled with sweat, but not their own. It is from another.

Not long after, Lord Dario joins his fellow lords and together, they sheathed their swords once more.

"A victory for the House of Llelewyn!" Lord Dario exclaims to the exhausted army. "Another rebellion yet quelled and honor for us all!"

"Honor for us all!" the army repeats in unison.

Though many died in the battle, at least a two dozens of men live enough to tell the tale. The vampire lords mount themselves on the horse once more, and with the werewolf army, they hastily run back into the palace where they await good food and drinks.

As they begin to leave, a hand creeps at a sword. The man rises up and sheathes his sword mindlessly. Soon, the corpses begin to rise one by one, as if the life taken has returned.

Things are not yet over.