Micro Fiction: Warstriders

The glinting of weapons flash in the light of the three moons, wraith-like figures slowly approach a small clearing. A roaring flame is at the center, numerous serpentine horrors wielding cruel blades and spears hiss and speak with one another. Mezoar warriors. The men move slowly and carefully, drawing arrows and readying themselves for the attack. Gulnar of the Order of War stands grimly at the edge of the clearing, surveying the scene before him. A massive figure, wielding an axe as large as any of the men standing next to him.
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The soldiers waited, their eyes focused on Gulnar. Finally, he raised his axe high into the night air and let out a guttural, yawp that signaled their advance. Gulnar and his warriors burst from the forest and attacked without mercy.

GULNAR
"Leave none alive!”

A Mezoark warrior turns in time for a blade to slice through its upper neck. Arterial blood sprays freely over the ground and the soldiers begin to clash with the rest of the serpent-men, most of which are in utter shock due to the surprise attack. Gulnar frantically charges forward and swinging downward at another foe and takes its head with his strike. A serpent hisses and lunges at him, Gulnar shifts and backs away, the blow beating against his armor but finding no purchase of flesh. Bellowing another war cry, Gulnar raises his axe aloft as the serpent attempts to defend itself with a parry. The axe smashes aside its cowering defense, biting deep into the top of its head, brains, and gore bursting clear and drenching his armor.

LERIC
"Lord Gulnar. I count twelve, a scouting force. Light armor. Simple weapons."

GULNAR
"Then we ready ourselves, the serpents are a thr-"

Gulnar's words are cut short as the thunderous sounds of advancing columns of Mezoar warriors march towards their position. The knight raises his axe and orders his men to get into formation.