Gudbrand watched as razor-sharp appendages sliced through armor and flesh with gruesome efficiency, and their malevolent eyes gleamed with a sinister hunger. The battle was a nightmare, a relentless onslaught that left the soldiers with no respite.
As the beasts advanced, the soldiers fell, their valiant efforts proving futile. The snow was painted with blood, and the air was thick with the sounds of agony and death. When the dust settled, only ten soldiers remained, standing amidst the carnage, their faces etched with shock and grief.
Gudbrand, the commander of the Aesirheim Castle, was among the survivors, expressing relief and sorrow. The survivors braced themselves, expecting a grim fate, but to their surprise, a sinister chuckle pierced the air.
