"Hold the fucking line!" Garth shouted as a brute effortlessly slapped aside one of his men. The unprepared guard's rib cracked against the tunnel's wall. The remaining men's courage wavered, each of them looking to escape from the beasts in front of them. Garth knew they were not prepared for something like this. A lone sorcerer was one thing, it is much easier to fight something your own size, but a half dozen crazed brutes were beyond what Garth's rusty and complacent men had trained for. Wild swings from his mens' polehammers were the only thing keeping the grizzled beasts at bay. Thwamp. Another out of position guard got slapped aside, his armour shattering from the blow. Garth was still behind his men, commanding them safely from the rear, but at the rate the brutes were taking out the guards, that wasn't going to last long.
Garth felt his polehammer being yanked from his hands. Zigarete had snatched it away from him. With a single motion she hurled the weapon through the air. The spike at the top of the polehammer plunged straight into the eye of the closest brute. It fell to the ground. It was an impressive display but Garth couldn't help but be pissed that his main weapon was now surrounded by five dangerous brutes.
"Holy goddess, when was the last time your men did your anti-brute drills?" Zigarete asked, exasperated. Their display was appalling.
"We don't do that anymore. No brutes near Cliffside." Garth defended his men's inadequate training out of habit. The sight of the Zigarete felling the brute gave Garth's troops a restored sense of confidence. They began to push forward as a team, striking hard against the lead unarmed beast.
Garth scanned around, hoping for support from the now missing Tracker but he was still nowhere to be found. When they entered the catacombs, the Tracker had run ahead, disappearing into the depths with an unnatural speed. He was much faster than any of them could keep up with, even Zigarete. By the time they reached the fork in the passageway they had completely lost him. Garth could really use the Faen's help right about now.
Two more brutes fell from their injuries. One of them collapsed forward onto Borris with a crunch. Zigarete broke through the ill-formed line that Garth's men were holding. With a flick of the arm and the sound of tearing flesh, the last two brutes were defeated. What were these things anyway? They weren't like anything Garth had seen in the Imperial Brute Legion. They were larger, and more unpredictable in their movements.
"Lieutenant Sten, report." Garth shouted as he watched the Inquisitor wipe the blood from her spear.
"We are down three men, Captain." Sten replied a few frantic moments later. Sten helped free Borris from beneath the brute. "I don't think any of them will be moving for a while." The lieutenant added as he inspected their injuries.
"Captain Garth, send three of your men back to the entrance with the wounded. They will make sure the sorcerer and his group do not slip past us. The rest of you will follow me and try not to get killed." Zigarete stepped over the haphazard pile of fallen brutes in front of her and continued down the tunnel. Garth really didn't like it when the uptight Inquisitor ordered him around but if things went badly here, at least he could blame the failure on her. He ordered Sten and two others to do as she requested while he retrieved his polehammer from the brute's head. It was really stuck in there, it took Garth several attempts to dislodge. This was going to be a long night.