Frankie
Tharn Skorn
Burgh

The echoing wail of the battle horn roared down the valley and across the battlefield, momentarily startling both wolfman and soldier alike. There was a brief pause, where all the world seemed to stand still, while Tharn yanked on the reins, sending his horse reeling to face this new threat. 

At this distance, he couldn't make out any faces, obviously, but he recognized the insignia and livery immediately. His heart sunk a little. All his planning... All his work... His one mistake had been not killing both Roryk and Levi when he had the chance. He let his own ego—that desire to fight Roryk another day— get in the way, and now he and his men were trapped between two armies.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw John's men slaughtering any captors they managed to get. Not many, but enough. Widdling away at an already comparatively small force. The act seemed to snap Tharn out of the momentary stupor, and all at once, the world was out of slow motion. 

An ungodly roar echoed from his lips. "Charge!" He howled, spurring his horse up the hill towards Levi's army. Almost immediately, the wolfmen joined him, the entire force forsaking John's army and racing up the hill after their leader. One thing, they reacted much more swiftly than John's forces did, and that was perhaps what was most in their favor in this battle.

Yips and howls emanated from them; the sound of wolves on the hunt. It was enough to make the blood run cold.
Carol
Levi Cortez
Northwind

*It's cold.*

That was the only thought running through Levi's mind as Tharn turned to meet his men head on. As the two groups collided, the world seemed to freeze for Levi. He could see men dying almost before they died, and the trails of blood coming off of their blades creating showers of red that immediately coated the ground. A grin etched its way across Levi's face as he swung, his first kill coming quickly into the fight. It wasn't long before Levi fell into a repetitive motion of blocking and counter-attacking. He was keeping towards the middle of his men, preventing his own exhaustion from setting in just yet. 

—

Roryk was a terror. He didn't seem to slow down, striking down anyone who came close. His massive sword shattered bones if it didn't immediately slice through the men standing in front of him. It wasn't long, however, before he locked eyes with the man he had come here to fight. 

"*THARN!"* He bellowed, kicking the man in front of him into another and impaling them both by grabbing a nearby spear and hurling it at them. He ran forward, intending to lock blades with the only target he had eyes for.
John
Cornelius
The Sun Gate

Alas, after what seemed to be an unending age of boredom, monotony, and the ever-decreasing temperature, Cornelius had finally reached the Sun Gate. He sat up in the back of the cart he'd been brought in, and craned his neck which had since accumulated a great pain from sleeping on nothing but loose bits of straw and wood. He turned about in the wagon and reached for the last of his coin which would be handed over to the driver. The pale man exited the wagon and bid its owner farewell, watching him ride west before turning to face the Sun Gate. Cornelius had taken that straw he slept under for granted. At least it provided some semblance of warmth to his body. The tip of his note, his fingertips, and the tops of his ears reddened considerably in response to the cold. From his coat, he produced the letter by with which he'd been summoned and held it upwards to the men standing atop the gatehouse.

"I am Cornelius. I've been summoned by Lord Cyril de Lysse," He shouted between chattering teeth, "You wouldn't be so kind as to point me in the right direction, would you?"
Frankie
Tharn Skorn
Burgh

The thunder of horses, the metallic *Shing* Of clashing blades, and the sickening cries of the dead and dying filled the air as the two armies met. Both sides were filled with blood lust; both had a score to settle. The sound was as thunderous as the sea, a wave crashing against a cliff. Which side was which? Only time would tell.

Tharn was right in the thick of it, having led the charge. Unlike men like John, he joined his men in the thick of battle and was always at the front, and for that, his men would fall him anywhere, even to death. It was in this where Levi, Roryk, and John were not so different.

His face flecked with blood and earth, his horse white with lather, and yellow eyes gleaming, Tharn turned wheeled his horse to face Roryk. His lips curled into a vicious, maniacal smile. This was what he had hoped for. This was the man he had hoped to fight. 

In one swift move, he flung himself from the saddle of the horse, who galloped onward, rolled out of the fall, and landed on his feet, ready to face Roryk. Now on even ground, Tharn could face Roryk and have his final showdown. 
 
Plowing forwards through bodies, the two men barreled towards each other. Blood lust drove them onward, cutting down anyone that stood in their way.
Ronald
Sun Gate warden.
The aforementioned gate

One of the guards, dressed in a striped white and burgundy uniform, came down the black stairs. He was wearing a bronzed gold-like morion and chestplate: a flashy choice that had no functionality beyond aesthetics. By contrast, his cape was made of furs and looked worn in comparaison. He was unusually well-equipped for a frontier guard, but nothing in the man told Cornelius he was an exemplary warrior. If anthing, he looked lazy and tired of his vigil.

"Lord Cyril is in the tower!" Said the man as he pointed to the part of the runied wall that had been less afected by the passage of time. An immense watchtower stood proudly against the ice sky. "That being said, if I were you, I'd search first for Lady Elaine: she's the one who really runs things around here!"

The guard had to shout so Cornelius could hear him over the howling winds of winter. From the top of the black tower, he could spot a flickering orange light. His new employers awaited him.
Carol
Levi Cortez
Northwind

Minutes passed as the two sides clashed. Sweat mixed with blood and created a sea that flowed into the Earth. There was a subtle beauty in all of this violence. The bloodshed today would mark the birth of new vegetation around the area. As Levi pulled his sword out of a fresh corpse, he took a breath and looked around him. Men were tearing each other apart, using their fallen brothers' weapons to keep fighting. The screams of the dying were relentless, piercing the ears of everyone nearby. 


—

Roryk grinned widely as the pair circled each other. He was excited. Someone who could match his strength was finally in front of him, and he was going to have fun. 

"Where is your little pack now, oh *Mighty* Wolf?" Roryk said as men backed away from the pair. Fighting slowed around them as they locked swords, sparks flying in the air. They pushed for a moment, before the force of their swings repelled them away. Every second they spent fighting woke something within Roryk, and his rage built as they swung.
Frankie
Tharn Skorn
Northwind

Tharn met him blow for blow, laughing at Roryk's attempt at an insult. So pitiful. So... Childish! Clearly, he couldn't see that Tharn's pack was all around him! They were his brothers, standing at his side, while holding off Levi's men so that Tharn could handle Roryk all on his own. 

This was the most alive Tharn had felt in a long time! For the first time in a long time, he was against a man of his skill—of his strength! He actually had to exert himself to fend off Roryk! Yet Roryk's blows were wild and blinded by rage, whereas Tharn's were calculating, if still a bit... Unhinged.
Carol
Levi Cortez
Northwind 

Levi's men were slowly thinning Tharn's men. Some of John's soldiers had reached them and started fighting with Levi, recognizing Levi's men. 

"Damn it all." Levi said, wiping the sweat off of his face. Dirt and sweat and blood covered his body, but he kept trudging through the muck, fighting to stay in control.

—

Roryk roared as Tharn forced him to reopen a wound across his back. He caught Tharn's sword as it sliced through the air, blocking it before nicking Tharn's bicep with a stab of his own. They both were covered in small cuts, the worst being a gash on Roryk's arm where Tharn's sword had slid down Roryk's. 

Roryk began to laugh. They were at a standstill, parrying each other relentlessly. Neither could get a solid hit on the other. At this point, the fight would truly come down to who had the most endurance. Roryk's muscles were starting to ache, but he grit his teeth together and focused even harder.