After what felt like an eternity, the horde had finally began thinning. The defenders stood bloodied but strong their weapons slick with gore as the last of the beasts were either slain or driven back from whence they came.
Jareth leaned on his Warhammer, with his mouth hung open, drawing air in desperately but still, he had a wide grin plastered on his face.
Exhausted, Victor fell o the ground, his voice still brimming with exhilaration as he spoke.
"Now that's a fight!"
They had survived, if only barely and yet, all he could think about was the many times in this fight they had come close to breaking.
A little less so and feeling his pulse hammering in his throat, Kaleb stood on the corpse of one of a beast, the corpse of only two he had managed to kill, and even that was only with the help of the incomming attacks from the mages behind as well as interference from a few mercenaries.
