| Marc Pelzer | Lorys Germany
The prisoner had not held back. Frightened by the rage of the axe fighter and the magic of Tirion, he had revealed everything he knew. He was a member of a cult called the Soul Catchers. They had attacked the village because it was lonly in the plains and had intended to sacrifice the villagers to the god of death Gron, who feeds on their souls and would have ruled over them in the afterlife. The statements seemed plausible, even if they sounded like nonsense to the interrogators' ears. In addition, the Soul Catcher had revealed that some special cultists with magical abilities were among the attackers in the west, but their powers were by no means equal to those of the all-powerful fire mage. After hearing this information, Tirion ran. No matter how embellished the prisoner had made it sound, magic meant a great danger. The tribal warrior would kill the prisoner as soon as he was gone. He couldn't prevent it. If enemy mages were on the battlefield, the rules of the game were changning dramatically, and a massacre was almost unavoidable. Although he didn't know which way to go, he ran towards the west, jumping over fences and walls, hoping not to be too late.
K'sar Guthun roared. His sword whirled through the air in powerful strikes, blocking thrusts, blows, and effortlessly cutting through the leather armor of his enemies. Almost all the warriors in his group had already succumbed to the sheer force of the attackers. Only a few were still fighting, surrounded by Soul Catchers. Most of the animal companions lay motionless on the ground, struck down by spear thrusts. It quickly became clear to him who he was fighting against here. Some of the Soul Catchers unexpectedly emerged from the shadows and attacked him from behind. Without knowing how this kind of deception worked, K'sar had to constantly watch his back, which was incredibly exhausting. A spear was approaching from the right, hurtling through the air. He jumped to the side, his bear lunged forward and buried the attacker under its powerful paw. Instead of hitting its target, however, the bear's paw passed through the body, which dissolved into black smoke. This was what the Soul Catcher had been waiting for; K'sar Guthun's left and now unprotected side was free. He appeared out of nowhere and aimed the steel tip of his spear at his enemy's shoulder blade. Hearing the attack, the tribal fighter turned his head, but could not defend himself further. An arrow saved his life. It shot across the plain and deeply embedded itself in the hip of the leaping Soul Catcher, who fell to the ground in pain. K'sar looked in the direction from which the arrow had come and saw one of the archers with his faithful falcon on his shoulder. He glanced briefly at his leader, nodded, and then turned to his next target.
When Tirion arrived on the battlefield, following the loud sounds of combat, his eyes widened. Although mist covered the ground, the moonlight revealed an incredible number of corpses and wounded. The scene was terrible. He had never seen anything so repulsive. His emotions only lasted a moment, because instinctively he had to dodge an approaching soul catcher. She was equipped with a short blackened sword with which she struck at him. Such a simple attack could not overwhelm him. The potential gathered as he ran sideways past the sword towards her, and then let a whirlwind of fire shoot up around the mage. The flames engulfed the attacker and burned her. Tirion stepped further onto the battlefield. A large man with a sword had noticed him and roared a rhythmic war cry. The other tribal fighters answered him, not many but loud. But it was not only allies who had noticed the fire. Through the mist, Tirion saw shadows coming towards him. These would be the combat mages of the soul collectors. From the eddies in the mist, Tirion could count three. Three opponents, he had already done that in his training. As poor as his healing art was, he had internalized magical combat so well.
He struck both hands flat on the ground and let a high wall of flames divide the plain. It cost him incredibly much energy to maintain something so large, even if the wall was not specially constructed in form or intensity. The advantage that resulted from this, however, was that Tirion had separated one of the shadows rushing towards him from his comrades and could now attack him alone. And he did: fireballs shot towards his opponent. To Tirion's surprise, he did not hit him, but sliced straight through him, dissolved and appeared in a new shadow next to him. In addition, the fire displaced the mist, making it difficult for Tirion to see the attacker. He had to come up with something quickly. Then, when the soul collector was almost upon him, he had an idea. He stood still and emitted heat in a circular pattern around him. His power was not enough for everything, so he let the wall of fire fall. The attacker did not suspect that the fire mage could perceive him in this way, because as soon as he had penetrated the heat field, the firemage felt the disturbance. The invisibility was thus useless at short range.
Tirion was able to dodge the soul collector's attack and caught him by the arm. Although the attacker had a much stronger build, he was so confused by his exposed disguise that he could not break free and fell victim to the fireball fired from close range. The same thing happened to the second combat mage who jumped in thoughtlessly. However, the third was smart enough to hide at a safe distance. To Tirion's disadvantage, this magical release had cost him so much strength that the heat shield soon dissolved. Now it was the fire mage who was defenseless. He had to recover. Falling to his trembling knee, Tirion breathed heavily. Five steps in front of him, he saw the combat mage abandon his disguise. He grinned evilly at him. The fanatical expression made the trembling even worse. "Listen to me, Gron, my God, my Master! Accept this sacrifice and do not forget that I, your most faithful servant, dedicate it to you!" With these words, the soul collector approached him and lifted a kind of priest's staff with a long iron tip. Tirion saw no way to dodge. He shot a tiny fire beam towards the attacker with his last reserves. Laughter and ridicule answered this desperate rescue attempt. Then the soul collector stood in front of him and stared into his eyes. "Now you will die." Bravely, Tirion wrenched his eyes open to at least accept the thrust with honour. But he was forestalled by a dull thud. An arrow protruded from the belly of the battle mage. The hit man, however, laughed and set about repeating his interrupted death blow. Suddenly a furry wolf yanked him aside and tore him apart. This gave Tirion a clear view of the figure that had shot the arrow. Twenty paces, in a bush, stood Ja'nemeri. She managed a smile, tortured by pain, but then dropped the bow and doubled over so much that she disappeared from view.
The shadow fighters had been defeated, the fire mage had turned them into ashes. K'sar had clearly seen that. A huge wall of fire had divided the battlefield and fireballs had been shooting around. This gave him new motivation. The remaining soul catchers were just ordinary fighters and not even really good ones. He had also seen fighters from the other groups, so it seemed that the final battle was taking place here. He felt new hope. Again he roared with all his might the battle cry that had frightened enemies for generations: "Raztrga'la!" Over and over again he roared into the night, sweeping through the remaining enemies and striking down everything that stood in his way. He entered a frenzy and it didn't take long for the soul catchers to start fleeing, but on this day not a single one escaped the wrath of the Angry Bear of the Northern Tribe.
K'sar Guthun roared. His sword whirled through the air in powerful strikes, blocking thrusts, blows, and effortlessly cutting through the leather armor of his enemies. Almost all the warriors in his group had already succumbed to the sheer force of the attackers. Only a few were still fighting, surrounded by Soul Catchers. Most of the animal companions lay motionless on the ground, struck down by spear thrusts. It quickly became clear to him who he was fighting against here. Some of the Soul Catchers unexpectedly emerged from the shadows and attacked him from behind. Without knowing how this kind of deception worked, K'sar had to constantly watch his back, which was incredibly exhausting. A spear was approaching from the right, hurtling through the air. He jumped to the side, his bear lunged forward and buried the attacker under its powerful paw. Instead of hitting its target, however, the bear's paw passed through the body, which dissolved into black smoke. This was what the Soul Catcher had been waiting for; K'sar Guthun's left and now unprotected side was free. He appeared out of nowhere and aimed the steel tip of his spear at his enemy's shoulder blade. Hearing the attack, the tribal fighter turned his head, but could not defend himself further. An arrow saved his life. It shot across the plain and deeply embedded itself in the hip of the leaping Soul Catcher, who fell to the ground in pain. K'sar looked in the direction from which the arrow had come and saw one of the archers with his faithful falcon on his shoulder. He glanced briefly at his leader, nodded, and then turned to his next target.
When Tirion arrived on the battlefield, following the loud sounds of combat, his eyes widened. Although mist covered the ground, the moonlight revealed an incredible number of corpses and wounded. The scene was terrible. He had never seen anything so repulsive. His emotions only lasted a moment, because instinctively he had to dodge an approaching soul catcher. She was equipped with a short blackened sword with which she struck at him. Such a simple attack could not overwhelm him. The potential gathered as he ran sideways past the sword towards her, and then let a whirlwind of fire shoot up around the mage. The flames engulfed the attacker and burned her. Tirion stepped further onto the battlefield. A large man with a sword had noticed him and roared a rhythmic war cry. The other tribal fighters answered him, not many but loud. But it was not only allies who had noticed the fire. Through the mist, Tirion saw shadows coming towards him. These would be the combat mages of the soul collectors. From the eddies in the mist, Tirion could count three. Three opponents, he had already done that in his training. As poor as his healing art was, he had internalized magical combat so well.
He struck both hands flat on the ground and let a high wall of flames divide the plain. It cost him incredibly much energy to maintain something so large, even if the wall was not specially constructed in form or intensity. The advantage that resulted from this, however, was that Tirion had separated one of the shadows rushing towards him from his comrades and could now attack him alone. And he did: fireballs shot towards his opponent. To Tirion's surprise, he did not hit him, but sliced straight through him, dissolved and appeared in a new shadow next to him. In addition, the fire displaced the mist, making it difficult for Tirion to see the attacker. He had to come up with something quickly. Then, when the soul collector was almost upon him, he had an idea. He stood still and emitted heat in a circular pattern around him. His power was not enough for everything, so he let the wall of fire fall. The attacker did not suspect that the fire mage could perceive him in this way, because as soon as he had penetrated the heat field, the firemage felt the disturbance. The invisibility was thus useless at short range.
Tirion was able to dodge the soul collector's attack and caught him by the arm. Although the attacker had a much stronger build, he was so confused by his exposed disguise that he could not break free and fell victim to the fireball fired from close range. The same thing happened to the second combat mage who jumped in thoughtlessly. However, the third was smart enough to hide at a safe distance. To Tirion's disadvantage, this magical release had cost him so much strength that the heat shield soon dissolved. Now it was the fire mage who was defenseless. He had to recover. Falling to his trembling knee, Tirion breathed heavily. Five steps in front of him, he saw the combat mage abandon his disguise. He grinned evilly at him. The fanatical expression made the trembling even worse. "Listen to me, Gron, my God, my Master! Accept this sacrifice and do not forget that I, your most faithful servant, dedicate it to you!" With these words, the soul collector approached him and lifted a kind of priest's staff with a long iron tip. Tirion saw no way to dodge. He shot a tiny fire beam towards the attacker with his last reserves. Laughter and ridicule answered this desperate rescue attempt. Then the soul collector stood in front of him and stared into his eyes. "Now you will die." Bravely, Tirion wrenched his eyes open to at least accept the thrust with honour. But he was forestalled by a dull thud. An arrow protruded from the belly of the battle mage. The hit man, however, laughed and set about repeating his interrupted death blow. Suddenly a furry wolf yanked him aside and tore him apart. This gave Tirion a clear view of the figure that had shot the arrow. Twenty paces, in a bush, stood Ja'nemeri. She managed a smile, tortured by pain, but then dropped the bow and doubled over so much that she disappeared from view.
The shadow fighters had been defeated, the fire mage had turned them into ashes. K'sar had clearly seen that. A huge wall of fire had divided the battlefield and fireballs had been shooting around. This gave him new motivation. The remaining soul catchers were just ordinary fighters and not even really good ones. He had also seen fighters from the other groups, so it seemed that the final battle was taking place here. He felt new hope. Again he roared with all his might the battle cry that had frightened enemies for generations: "Raztrga'la!" Over and over again he roared into the night, sweeping through the remaining enemies and striking down everything that stood in his way. He entered a frenzy and it didn't take long for the soul catchers to start fleeing, but on this day not a single one escaped the wrath of the Angry Bear of the Northern Tribe.