As the dawn rises at the start of the third day of battle, Blaidd stood amongst his brethren that had survived the last two days. It was not much, in total, out of five hundred, half of that survived, which is in no condition to hold a line.
The soldiers here and the rest of the line is tired and battered, some scarred for life, physically and mentally from all the bombardments that the mages of the Nilfgaardians have been doing, through, Blaidd pitied the opponent, as he knew from observation that those black ones received a lot more bombardments, their lines uneven and botched because of it. Due to this, at first glance, it seems that the Northern Realms are the one who's winning right now, just a little more push, and the soldiers of the Nilfgaardians will rout.
While the Northern Realms seemed to have the upper hand, however, Blaidd knew better than to let his guard down, especially with the Nilfgaardian cavalry practically untouched in the distance.
"It feels… calmer than the last two days." Arturio commented besides Blaidd. "Something is coming."
"They're resting, regrouping." Blaidd stated. "Or preparing for something."
"No artillery attacks today, only some archers." Arturio further commented, looking at the centre line of the army, where some Nilfgaardians are clashing with the Dwarven infantry. "The rest seem… well, relaxing."
"What are ye two? Witchers?" Marek scoffed. "Investigating those black ones? Ye're not going to find anything."
"Just an observation, Marek. Save your breath for the battle to come." Arturio spoke.
The mercenary bands had been on edge for days now, constantly hearing the sounds of battle and the distant cries of the wounded and dying. But now, as they stood there waiting for the inevitable clash with the Nilfgaardian army, they heard something new - the sound of horns echoing from the right flank of the enemy's forces.
Blaidd quickly scanned the battlefield and spotted movement behind the enemy's infantry. His eyes focused in on the banners of the white sun under the black field, carried by horsemen decked in black plate armour, their hands tightly gripping their lances and shields. It was clear that the enemy had rarely used their cavalries before, and now he's seeing it move, undamaged and still fresh - a force to be reckoned with on any battlefield.
"Cavalries coming." Blaidd murmured.
"What? Where?" Arturio frowned, clenching his weapon. "We're doomed if that's the case. Only two hundred and fifty men left, holding against thousands of them? No chance."
The sound of the horns continued to grow louder, and the mercenary bands could feel their hearts pounding in their chests. They had never seen what the Nilfgaardian cavalry could do, but they knew that if they were targeted by these new arrivals, they would stand little chance of survival.
Blaidd's observations were soon confirmed by others as they witnessed the sight of the Nilfgaardian cavalry charging out of the back lines. The horses galloped through the scorched and bloodied field with great speed, their banners flapping wildly in the wind. The ground beneath them shook with the vibrations of the cavalry unit, sending tremors throughout the battlefield that seemed to intimidate the very earth itself. The sight of this caused fear to grip the hearts of the mercenaries, who knew they would stand no chance against a charge from such a powerful cavalry unit.
As the cavalry approached, the mercenaries stood their ground, unsure of what to do. They had not faced such a formidable force before, and the sheer number of horsemen bearing down on them was overwhelming. Blaidd knew that they needed to act quickly if they were to survive this onslaught.
"Boys! Hold steady!" Tomas shouted, he's now riding on his horse, which is not the case in the last two days, it seems he just came back from the command centre. He jumped away from the horse and entered the front line, where Blaidd is in. "Reinforcements are coming! The Temerian Landschneckt are coming!"
A sigh of relief could be heard around Blaidd, thankful that they don't have to face it alone. Even then, people still had some doubts in their mind, and had plans to escape, but they knew better that they'd just be run down by those horsemen anyway if they did so.
Soon enough, lines and lines of spear infantry of Temeria rearmed the ranks, they had weird hats and only wore breastplates for maximum mobility. The cavalry continued to gallop through the fields, and while men are nervous, they're still confident that they can hold it off using the pikes and spears.
But then, more dire situations came up.
Blaidd could see dusts of orange and red coming from the back lines of the Nilfgaardian infantry, where their mages were, they seemed to be gathering something, and soon enough, it had appeared.
It was a spell that is designed for total destruction. From the looks of it from afar, they used sacrifices to be able to fuel the spell, draining the magic from young sorcerers and sorceresses, and the leader of the group of mages is the one who casted the spell. A barrage of fire balls appeared above the left wing and Sodden hill, pouring fiery destruction that hadn't been seen ever in the span of three days. In between those fireballs, a gigantic one appears, larger than any have ever since in the war, and that spell of mass destruction is targeting only Sodden Hill, the mages on top of it specifically.
They were totally doomed.
"Scatter!" Tomas shouted in panic. He too had never seen these kinds of destruction before, and he didn't know what to do.
As the battle raged on, a barrage of fireballs slammed into the field, obliterating the left wing and creating numerous openings in the formation. Blaidd managed to evade the deadly magical projectiles, but he remained resolute despite the chaos that surrounded him. He watched in horror as Arturio desperately tried to dodge the incoming fire, only to be engulfed in flames and burned to a crisp.
Despite the devastation around him, Blaidd remained standing amidst the hail of fire and brimstone. Blaidd's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of approaching hooves. He looked up and saw the cavalry of the Nilfgaardians thundering towards him, their weapons glinting in the sunlight. He knew that he and his brethren had only two choices now: stand their ground and fight, or turn and run, only to be hunted down and killed by the ruthless Nilfgaardian soldiers.
"Men! With me!" Tomas shouted, who had been gravely injured, but still stood strong. A group of rugged and injured men formed a line, holding all manners of weapons as the cavalry in front of them charged mercilessly.
"Ah fuck." Blaidd murmured.
As they got closer, Blaidd could make out the individual details of their armour and weapons. They were well-equipped and well-trained, and he knew that they would not be easy to defeat for mercenaries like them. Nevertheless, he steeled himself and prepared for the coming fight. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest and the adrenaline coursing through his veins. But he did the unthinkable, he ran towards the back.
The first wave of the cavalry hit the defensive line like a battering ram, their horses' hooves striking the ground with tremendous force. As Blaidd ran towards the hill, he saw his fellow mercenaries instantly crumble from the force of the fireballs, their bodies trampled by the horses. But Blaidd did not falter; he was determined to make it to the foot of the hill, where he saw that the giant fireball was being held back by something, and eventually dissipated.
Finally, he reached a good position, standing at the foot of the hill, ready to face the approaching cavalry. His armour and clothing were torn apart, his muscles bulged, and his hair grew long and wild. His face twisted and contorted into that of a wolf, his already imposing height increasing further.
Now, a pitch-black werewolf with silver eyes that stood over three metres tall stood alone at the foot of the hill, facing the cavalry banners. Blaidd bared his claws, and a low growl escaped his throat, quickly escalating into a deafening roar that could pierce a normal human's ears. The horses reared and jumped in fear, throwing their riders off and creating chaos in the cavalry lines.
In his werewolf form, Blaidd gruffed and let out a foggy breath from his mouth and nose. He could feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins, the scent of blood and fear thick in the air. He knew what was about to happen - a slaughter was about to begin, and now that he was not constrained anymore, he was ready to meet those damned black ones head-on.
He approached the nearest group of soldiers, he used his powerful limbs to sprint towards the commanding officer, who was barking orders at his men to regroup. In a flash, Blaidd had grabbed the man by the stomach, his grip so strong that the man's face twisted in terror. With a roar, Blaidd crushed the officer's body with his bare hands, reducing it to a pile of bloody pulp.
Throwing the lifeless corpse aside, Blaidd turned towards the next group of soldiers, using his massive hands to fling one of the bodies at them with the force of a catapult. The soldier was smashed to pieces, his blood and gore splattering everywhere. In one swift movement, Blaidd swung his clawed hands, cutting through three men as though they were made of butter.
A soldier managed to stab him in the back with a spear, causing him to turn around with a grunt of slight pain. Enraged, Blaidd seized the man by the throat, his powerful grip squeezing until the soldier's bladder emptied and he fell limp. With a snarl, Blaidd bit off the man's head, spraying blood all over his fur.
Looking around at the remaining cavalry, Blaidd could smell the fear in the air. It was a heady aroma, better than any drug or alcohol he had ever tasted. With bloodlust in his eyes, the werewolf advanced slowly towards the rest of the unit, taunting them with his menacing presence. The slaughter was far from over.